SHATTERED ALLIANCES

Daniel's POV Although I never imagined I would experience both relief and anxiety at once, when we return to camp that is exactly what is building inside of me. Every step weighs me; I can still feel the betrayal stinging. The face of our old friend stays with me, particularly the one he showed us before he disappeared into the darkness. I wonder if that flutter of uncertainty we observed meant he regretted it or if he was simply trying our endurance. The fire we left blazing when we arrived at the camp is now only a feeble glow, hardly lighting the strain on everyone's face. Lena's stare on me makes me turn, and when I turn she is staring with the same intensity as if she could see straight through the barriers I keep attempting to surround myself with. "You good?" Her voice is soft but solid as she asks. I nod, not sure that's the truth exactly. I want to claim I'm good to let her know nothing has bothered me. To be honest though, it is separating me. So instead of responding, I grab a flask from my bag and take a lengthy gulp, thinking the warmth would chase the chill running into my bones. "What should we do now?" Marcus breaks the stillness by asking. One hand is absently tracing the scars on his forearm, from wars we believed would be our last. He is sitting on a rock. He has been with us through it all; I know he experiences this betrayal just as strongly as I do. "Stay on course," I advise at last. Right now, we cannot afford to lose concentration. We are too close. "But what about him?" though? Not allowing me to sidestep the actual problem, Lena asks "He knows everything about us and is still out there". The issue looms large and highly uncertain. Maintaining his continual menace looming in the background runs the danger of dragging you forward. He is aware of our shortcomings, our plans, even the things we would much prefer keep hidden. Though the words feel hollow, I say, "We cannot waste energy worrying about him." "We keep traveling; should he show up once more, we will be ready." Lena shook her head, obviously unhappy with my response. "That's not sufficient, Daniel. We have to act ahead of time. If he is ready to go this far, it is unknown what he will do next. She's right, hence her comments really strike home. I know this. But there's a part of me that refuses to accept it—that someone we used to refer to as family could absolutely change. I refuse to accept that someone who used to be one of us is now at war with us. Marcus gets up, his face stern. "Perhaps it's time we identify supporters who can be of use. Those he doesn't know who might surprise him. Though dangerous, the concept makes sense. We have always stayed to ourselves, keeping our circle small to prevent allowing any possible dangers into our path. Perhaps, though, that is precisely what he relied on. He understands our inclination to hold things close and that we do not trust readily. And right now he is exploiting that against us. Lena looks at me with the equal parts of defiance and will. Daniel, we have to consider more broadly. These days, this goes beyond us personally. He poses a threat to anyone we come across if he keeps chasing after us. Her comments land in my chest like weight. She's accurate. We cannot afford to let our personal anxieties control us. We have to start thinking differently and be ready to form alliances with those who can help us to intensify our campaign. At last I nod, embracing the reality I had been striving away from. "Alright. We'll begin tomorrow. Look for someone eager to assist and get them on board. We headed to separate places the next morning, each assigned to locate supporters. Though I'm ready to try to overcome the mistrust that has defined us for so long, I'm not sure how many others we will persuade to join us. Perhaps it is time we at last allowed others in. My road leads to the brink of a little town, one we had avoided in order to remain under low profile. Now, as I enter the center of the hamlet, I sense the curious but cautious gaze of the residents upon me. Hoping the close quarters would make it simpler to determine who would be ready to listen, I decided to start at a little pub on the outskirts of town. Inside, it's dark and smoky—the kind of place where people mix into the background. I walk up to the bar and get the attention of the tall man with an effortless smile that falls short of his eyes. Keeping a quiet but clear voice, "I'm looking for people who can handle themselves in a fight," I say. He arches an eyebrow and looks about as though he were looking for someone else listening. And what makes you believe everyone present here is interested in trouble? I get closer and whisper less. "I'm willing to pay. And it's not only an inconvenience; it's an opportunity to oppose someone who has greatly harmed a lot of decent people. Someone who has to be stopped. He looks at me for a time then gestures toward a corner of the room where some men and women are seated observing with subdued curiosity. You ought to speak with them. They taste adventure, or so I have heard. Following his nod, I approach the gathering and see the tension building as I introduce myself. I do not blame them since they seem dubious. I do, however, tell them my narrative, omitting the finer points but plenty to convey my seriousness. Fortunately, a few of them appear interested; by the end of the evening, I have a tiny collection of possible friends. Lena and Marcus have had similar results back at camp, and by the sun sets we have a small but committed gathering around the fire. Seeing so many fresh faces and knowing we are handing our fight to them seems odd. But there's also an odd sensation of hope—that perhaps, just maybe, we will at last take the front stage. I see Lena staring at me as we gather around the fire debating tactics and ideas. Her look suggests approval, a quiet acknowledgement that she values this action I have done. Though I hate to confess it, I also feel glad that we are at last rebuffing and that we are no more alone. I experienced peace that evening among the stars that I have not felt in months. But there is also an undercurrent of expectation, a sense that the actual struggle is only just starting. We have allies now, but we also drew a line in the sand—a statement we will not waver from. In stillness, I consider our erstwhile friend—the one who turned on us. I question whether he is out there someplace planning his next action or whether he understands what we are doing. I ignore the idea, though, and concentrate on the individuals around me—the allies we have assembled. Though we are battle-worn and damaged, we are not alone now. And I know we can meet whatever comes next as long as we have one other. I find fresh direction as morning breaks. We have a team, a strategy, and a goal. And for the first time, I sense that we are prepared to win as much as to survive.