Page 108 of War

“I couldn’t save them,” she weeps, bowing her head over the toddler’s body. “I couldn’t save any of them.”

My stomach turns at the sight of the wounded toddler in her arms; he must be her nephew. Someone did this to a little boy. They shot him in the chest like his life meant nothing.

“They’d already come through by the time I arrived,” she sobs.

We’re coming from the east,leaving civilians only true escape to the west,one of War’s soldiers said when they were strategizing their attackIt might be best to split the army and come at it from both ends.

War’s soldiers must’ve done exactly that.

“I’m so sorry, Zara.” I hadn’t even thought to warn her of this—not that it would’ve done much good. I’m sure she rode as fast as she could to get to her family. If she was too late, there was never a chance for them to begin with.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I glance down at the toddler. I slept with the horseman, and for what gain? It didn’t save Zara’s sister, or her brother-in-law, or her nephew.

I place a hand on the boy. I almost jolt at the warmth of his skin. I stare down at him, and I see his chest rise and fall just the slightest.

“He’s still alive,” I say, shocked.

She’s openly weeping as she shakes her head. “He’s not going to make it—how can he possibly make it?”

I glance down at where the arrow is embedded in his chest. Already, the clothing around it is coated in slick blood. It surely is a mortal wound, and yet …

Maybe there still is something to gain from this.

“There’s a chance—a small chance …”

What am I even thinking, saying these words and giving Zara hope? It’s such a doomed idea.

Zara blinks up at me, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me—that she has been disappointed too many timestobelieve me.

I glance around. Where would the horseman be right about now?

“War!” I shout uselessly. “War!”

“What are you doing?” my friend says, looking aghast that I’d call for the horseman.

“He can help.”

Zara stares at me like I’ve gone mad. “He’s the oneresponsiblefor this,” she snaps.

“Do you want his help or not?” I snap back.

She presses her lips together.

I stand. “I need to find him. It’s a longshot …” I say, backing away.

It’s more than a long shot, Miriam.

I don’t let the insidious thought creep any deeper than that.

“I’ll be back.” I run the way I came, feeling the futility of the situation. I’m not possibly going to find him in time. And even if I do, convincing him to help another human is even less likely. That doesn’t stop me from tearing down street after street, shouting War’s name, asking anyone I can if they’ve seen him.

I run up two blocks then hook a right, then a left, and there he is, charging down the road, his sword brandished, his body strewn with blood.

He’s not going to help.

It’s so laughably obvious. I mean, why would he?

And just when I managed the first impossible task too—finding him.

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