When it came to weapons, Silvie preferred a knife to a sword because she’d learned how to throw them from a good distance. With a sword you had to get in close, she said. She showed Johnis how to throw one of the four she carried and was impressed by his quick learning. A natural, she said. Unusual.

They talked about a hundred things, and all the while Johnis became more and more aware that they were slowly but surely abandoning themselves to this unexplored desert. An afternoon wind scattered their tracks, making it impossible to retrace them.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” Johnis asked as the afternoon turned red.

Silvie looked at him and winked. “Once. When I was fifteen. You?”

Talk of love was common and encouraged among the Forest Dwellers. Their religion, the Great Romance, had started when Tanis, the firstborn, had given his love to Teeleh, they said. Now the greatest reminder of Elyon’s love was found between a man and a woman, though a father or mother’s love for a child came a close second.

“Yes,” Johnis said. “I loved a girl named Mirim last year. She was a very . . . nice girl.”

“Was she? But you no longer love her?”

“My father says that I’m too young to really know love. Maybe he’s right.”

“Bah! Don’t you believe it,” she said. “If you’re old enough to die in battle, you’re old enough to understand the love you die for.”

Johnis nodded. “The love of Elyon. But that’s not the same.”

“No? That’s not what the elders teach. It may not have always been like this, but when we fight for our lives, we should also be allowed to love for our lives.”

“So then, do you love this boy of yours?” he asked.

“I do.”

Johnis felt his heart sink. She was in love with another boy? He realized then how much hope he’d unconsciously put in her.

“Well, that’s nice.”

“It is and it isn’t,” she said. Then she winked at him again, and Johnis cursed his heart for its impulsive leap. He didn’t have the time or the mind or the heart to love a woman at this moment. He was committing himself to death, for the sake of Elyon.

“You’re disappointed?” she asked with a smile.

“Why should I be? He must be a very happy boy.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”

“I was rather hoping you’d be disappointed. It’s always nice to be loved.”

Johnis didn’t know what to make of that. Women could be quite crafty, he knew that much. His father said it often. Smarter than men, too, most of the time. You had to know your way around if you wanted to fall in love with a woman. “Best to wait, lad. Just take your time. No rush.”