She’d been fighting for years. She knew how to pick her battles and keep her people safe. But this wasn’t going to be a battle. This was going to be a war. And people were going to die.

The morning was still dim and cold, the sun not yet burning on the horizon when Caledonia rolled out of her bunk and laced into her boots. She pulled her cabin door shut behind her, waved to the crew on dead watch, and snatched a few strips of dried meat and a small block of cheese from the kitchen. Then she strode down the dusty path toward the cherry orchard.

Her mood constricted slightly as she passed beneath a stand of tall pines. The forest always made the world feel so small and close. She was overwhelmed by the desire to get out.

Balling her fists, she began to run, kicking her heels up and pumping her arms as hard as she possibly could. Soon, sweat kissed her neck and brow, and her muscles began to burn with effort. She followed the road as it curved this way and that, leaping over the occasional fallen branch and letting herself breathe loudly.

Finally, she burst from the cover of trees, skidding to a stop on the crest of a hill that overlooked the sleeping cherry orchard. She pressed her eyes closed and tipped her head back. Her heart was wild in her chest, and she relished the feel of it knocking against her ribs, reminding her that she had not yet drowned.

“Caledonia?”

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. She’d assumed she was alone. She hadn’t even taken a moment to glance around.

Reckless girl, she snarled inwardly.

“Oran.”

His pants were dusty from sitting and his shirt damp from his own run. Behind him, cherry trees extended toward the horizon in long rows, their winter brown branches bare and twisting coarsely in every direction. Hesperus said in the spring they erupted with blossoms of the softest pink that rained down like snow when the wind blew. It was hard to imagine such distressed-looking trees could produce something so beautiful.

“Good morning,” Oran said.

Caledonia nodded, swallowing her annoyance at not being alone. It wasn’t his fault. And he’d clearly been here before her. He didn’t deserve her anger simply by virtue of proximity.

“I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

A dry smile turned one corner of his lips. “I’ll go.”

Every time she looked at him, she recognized herself less. Her heart fluttered and her lips warmed with the memory of their long-ago kiss, while her mind screamed, Bullet, Fiveson, Steelhand.

He’d done so much for her and her crew. But there were things in his past she still didn’t know. And there was no more time for secrets.