He learned to move quietly, to step where the rock was solid, to trust his horse's instincts when his own failed him. And in the evenings, he started teaching. It began with Kael and two other young men, barely old enough to fight. Ethan showed them how to clean and maintain the captured rifles, how to sight properly, how to control their breathing. He taught them the basics of cover and concealment, how to use terrain to their advantage, how to think three moves ahead.
Word spread. Soon he had eight students, then 12. Even some of the older warriors showed up, skeptical at first, but willing to learn. Nashoba watched from a distance, his face unreadable. One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Ayla sat beside Ethan while he cleaned his rifle.
You're good at this. At what? Teaching, leading. The young men respect you. They respect the rifle.
I'm just the guy holding it. No, they respect you because you do not treat them like children. You treat them like warriors. That matters. Ethan thought about that.
I keep thinking about what Nashoba said, about how this is a war they can't win. Teaching them to fight feels like preparing them to die. It is. But it is also giving them a choice. They can die running or they can die standing.
You are teaching them to stand. And that's supposed to make it better? It does not make it better. It makes it bearable. She looked at him.
You know this. You have been standing your whole life, even when you wanted to run. Ethan set down the rifle. I ran after Kansas. I ran for 5 years.
No, you survived. There is a difference. They sat in silence for a while watching the fire burn down to embers. Around them, the camp was settling in for the night, voices fading, children being tucked into bedrolls, guards taking up positions on the high ground. Ayla, Ethan said quietly, about your original request, the 90 days, the child.
She stiffened slightly. What about it? I just wanted to say I don't think that's why I'm here anymore or why you wanted me to stay. No, she agreed, it is not. "So, what is this?"
She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the firelight. I do not know, but I think we are building something and I think that is enough for now. Ethan nodded. Yeah, I think so, too. 3 weeks later, the scouts brought word of soldiers, a patrol, maybe 30 men, moving through the southern canyons, asking questions, looking for the missing militia unit.
They were 2 days away, moving slow, being careful. The camp went quiet when Nashoba announced it. Not panicked, just quiet. The kind of quiet that comes when bad news is expected but still unwelcome. That night, Nashoba called a council.
The elders gathered along with Ethan, Ayla, and the senior warriors. They sat in a circle, a small fire burning in the center, and talked strategy. We cannot fight them, one of the elders said. Not head-on. 30 soldiers with repeating rifles and cannon?