Page 170 of Seasons of War
Hakym rose, all eyes turning to him. “I knew a young girl once.” His deep voice carried a soothing tone.
A teenager stood up from the fire pit next to him. “What's her story, Takja?”
“She lived in a world where everyone walked in lines.”
A boy around the same age spoke from across the gravel road. “Why did they walk in lines, Takja?”
“If they stepped out of line, they'd be punished,” Hakym said. “This girl wanted to leave the line. So she took the first step.”
A younger child rose. “Did they follow her, Takja?”
“They did, child. One at a time, until eventually, they were free, and their line was no more.”
“What happened then, Takja?” Gabe asked beside Lance.
Hakym tucked his hands inside his robe, meeting Miya’s eyes. “They all stepped into a new line.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Why do you think they did that, children?”
Everything was silent until the first girl rose once more. “Maybe she saw the whole world walking in lines and didn’t know she didn't have to.”
Hakym returned to the ground, leaving his story unfinished.
“Be careful,” Amelia whispered. “We don’t need trouble while we have a guest.”
“I learned my lesson about waiting and doing nothing,” Hakym said. “There’s no time to spare.”
Amelia shook her head and gathered her children close.
But Hakym stared at the fire, face tense. He looked at Lance. “Remember that, my boy.”
Lance nodded.
“There comes a time when we're no longer fighting to save our home, but to rebuild what we already lost. In the old days, when I was unwilling to sacrifice our comfort, I was asking our grandchildren to sacrifice their lives.” He bent. “The young always pay the price of our apathy.”
“Enough,” Amelia whispered. “I mean it. The kids can hear you.”
“Good.” Hakym held the mother's eyes. “May they follow the thread of justice better than we have.”
Around them, the people at the other fires dug into their baskets and their pots, the cracks of quietly brewing dissent showing. No wonder Bale relied on threats to keep Lance in line. Hakym had the power to turn even the children against him.
“I’ll remember,” Lance said to himself.
“You have to protect yourself too.” Miya cut a look to him. “Otherwise, you won't last.”
“She's right,” Hakym said. “Rest and wisdom are as important as courage.”
Charlotte passed a thin wafer with saucy diced apples oozing over the edges to each person, and then hopped to her mother, lifting it to the woman’s mouth. Giving her the kind of smile a daughter reserves for her parent alone. “Mahzi, Mama.”
“Mahzi.”
Lance faced Miya now, holding his own wafer. She almost said no until he slid closer, holding the gift between them. Against her better judgment, she opened her mouth, letting him slide the wafer onto her tongue. The sauce smeared, and he drew his thumb along her bottom lip, catching it.
In a quiet voice only for her to hear, he said, “Mahzi, my friend.”
“Mahzi,” Miya said.
