She hoped she wouldn’t need Coral.

Impulsively, she reached out, throwing her arms around Coral the way her sister had once thrown her arms around her. The hug was brief, and the woman didn’t smell of juniper. But Coral had been there for her since the beginning. “Stay safe,” Nisong said.

“You too,” Coral responded.

Nisong turned away, her throat tight, and made her way back to the construct encampment. By the time she arrived, the sun had set, the surrounding plains a dark sea punctuated by fire and lamplight. She had to focus. She had to be the leader they needed – a leader who won battles and crushed her opponents.

Constructs had begun to stoke the fires for the evening, sparks and smoke rising into the sky. They’d brought some supplies and had pillaged the rest from the surrounding countryside. Gaelung was ripe for plucking, and the more intelligent of her constructs seemed to take great pleasure in the richness of the food they’d found.

The guards she’d placed around the perimeter only nodded to her as she passed. Leaf would have looked to her, waiting for some encouraging word. Frond would have been passing the time by carving and would have shown her what he’d been working on. But these constructs didn’t really know her. She spoke and they obeyed. That was what she was to them.

She chose a spot by one of the fires, the stump of a tree making a decent enough seat. Through the flames she could make out the distant hill where the governor’s palace waited. Her cheeks warmed and she held out her hands to feel the heat. When she’d first started this campaign, she’d only imagined herself at the palace, the people bowing before her. Maybe it was fitting, that she should now be alone this near to the end. Still, when she closed her eyes she could imagine Leaf at her side, Grass and Frond bickering over whether a fish should be fried or steamed and Shell sharpening his spear.

It was a pointless exercise. All it did was make her ache. She’d made her choices and she was still convinced they were the right ones.

Something caught the edge of her gaze. She squinted into the camp, scanning between the tents. Constructs ate their evening meals, a few speaking in low voices to one another. One shaped like a wolf idly scratched at an ear. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nisong shook her head. Had she imagined things?

And then she saw it again, and knew why the movement had caught her eye. It was one of the shamblers, slipping between tents, nearly out of view. Nisong frowned. The last command she’d given them had been to wait. She was constantly having to reissue commands to them since their shards were so unsophisticated. But this still seemed too soon.

She rose from her place by the fire.