From what Evie gathers listening to the chatter among the taskers and the soldiers, they’re now at the absolute vanguard of the conflict. The Skrain have pushed the Sicclunan armies farther back into their own lands than they have in decades, and they intend to press the effort until they reach the closest Sicclunan city.

“If they… we… win this war, what do you think will happen to the Savages?” Evie asks Mother Manai, who’s in the middle of sharpening the blades that have replaced half her fingers.

The older woman laughs. “Girlie, the reason you never hear about this ‘war’ in the Capitol is there ain’t no war. That’s not what this is.”

Evie has only just begun to grasp the idea that such consuming violence and all-out conflict can exist just beyond the borders of Crache. What she has witnessed and taken part in is bigger and bloodier than anything she had envisioned, even during the process of becoming a Savage. What’s coming can be nothing other than open warfare.

“If it’s not a war… what is it?”

“Something… vastly more dangerous. Expansion. Crache isn’t a country, it’s a great scythe cuttin’ down everything around it. That’s how it feeds its cities and keeps ’em so clean and free of woe. And it’ll never stop. It don’t know how. When it eats Siccluna it’ll move on to the next people, the next realm, the next meal.”

Evie falls silent after that, thinking again of the Professor, remembering what he said about Crache and history.

It’s south of a freezing midnight when Evie spots firelight from the back of their wagon. They’re spread out for half a mile, and unlike the journey to the front, this is no cold camp. They’re greeted with small bowls of hot broth with noodles and sprigs of winegrass and even a few slices of dried pork. There’s rice wine, too, though they’re each given scarcely a sip apiece.

Evie can see the smoke and flame rising from a giant bonfire at the center of the camp, but the Savages never get near it. Most of the encampment is reserved for the Skrain’s revelry and comfort. Evie can smell the meat and wine. She can hear the music and the celebratory laughter. The Savages, meanwhile, are herded into one small corner with much smaller fires.

Apparently, their celebration is over.

Rather than stake out a spot around one of the emaciated fires, Evie chooses to keep warm by searching the Savage quarter of the camp, careful to make it look like aimless wandering. She uses the barest corner of her eyes to examine every face she passes, never looking at anyone directly. None of those faces register even the slightest spark of recognition from her.