He found Aela 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." Aela 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 Aela'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. "You are out of shape," NaShoBa observed. "Yeah, well, I've been busy." "Not busy enough if you cannot keep up with an old man." NaShoBa pulled out a waterskin and took a long drink, then passed it to Ethan. "Look.
Tell me what you see." Ethan looked. He saw mountains and canyons and the thin silver line of a river cutting through the valley floor. He saw clouds building on the western horizon, promising more snow. He saw empty land that went on forever. "I see wilderness," he said.
"Wrong. You see home. Our home. Every rock, every tree, every shadow. We know it.
We are part of it. That is what you must teach the young men. Not how to fight on this land, how to become this land." "I don't understand." "A soldier fights to take ground, to hold it, to claim it." NaShoBa gestured at the expanse below. "We do not claim it. We belong to it.
And when the enemy comes, we do not stand and defend. We fade into the rocks and the trees and the wind. We become impossible to find, impossible to kill. That is how we survive." "With guerrilla tactics?" "I do not know that word. But if it means we refuse to fight on their terms, then yes." NaShoBa stood, his knees cracking.