And you won because we had the high ground and surprise. But what happens the next time? When there is no high ground, no surprise? When it is just tired men with empty rifles against an army? You run.
Yes. We run. And we keep running. And we teach the next generation to run faster and hide better. That is how we survive."
He turned back to Ethan. "So I am asking you, can you teach that? Or can you only teach them to stand and die?" The words hit harder than Ethan expected. He thought about the past weeks, about the pride he'd felt watching Kael improve, about the satisfaction of seeing the young men become more disciplined, more deadly.
And he realized Nashoba was right. He'd been training them to fight his war, not theirs. "I can learn," Ethan said quietly, "if you'll teach me." Nashoba studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"Good. We start tomorrow." They walked back to camp in silence. Ethan's mind was churning, re-thinking everything he'd been doing, everything he thought he understood about this place and these people. He found Ayla near the cookfire, grinding corn into meal with two other women.
She looked up when he approached, reading something in his face. "What happened?" "Nashoba just reminded me that I don't know everything." "That must have been painful." "It was."
Ethan sat down beside her. "He's right, though. I've been teaching them to fight like soldiers. That's not what they need." ""What do they need?"" "I don't know yet, but I'm going to figure it out." Ayla set down the grinding stone and wiped her hands on her skirt.
"You are trying too hard to fix everything, to save everyone. Some things cannot be fixed. Some people cannot be saved. All you can do is stand beside them while they fight their own battles." "Is that what I'm doing, standing beside you?"
"I think so. I hope so." She looked at him, her dark eyes serious. ""The 90 days are over, you know." They have been for weeks. You do not owe me anything."
"I know." ""Then why are you still here?"" Ethan thought about it, really thought about it. "Because I don't have anywhere else to be. And because for the first time in 5 years, I don't want to be anywhere else." Something shifted in Ayla's expression. Surprise, maybe, or something deeper.
She reached out and took his hand, her grip warm and calloused. "Then stay," she said simply. And that was that. The next morning, Nashoba woke Ethan before dawn. They left the camp on foot, climbing into the high country where the air was thin and cold, and the only sound was wind moving through the pines.
They walked for hours, Nashoba setting a brutal pace, never looking back to see if Ethan was keeping up. By midday, they'd climbed high enough that Ethan could see three different valleys spread out below, the landscape vast and empty and beautiful in a way that hurt to look at. Nashoba finally stopped at the edge of a cliff. He sat down, his legs dangling over the drop, and waited for Ethan to catch up. Ethan collapsed beside him, breathing hard, his lungs burning.