A Little Resolve

Dear Mother,
I’m sorry. Remind Mim that I love her. Don’t tell Father that I’ve gone. I love you, I will return when Halmisteck is safe.
Lyra

         Mother would find it in her shoe in the morning before the sun rose. The shoes she’d worn each day for the past eight years. The ones painted brown with layers of dirt, mud, and fertilizer. She might cry. But she would heed my request. Mother wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Father. He wouldn’t know I was gone until he discovered it himself. He’d be out in the fields all morning; it could be hours, hours that I would normally spend tending the animals. That was more time than I needed.
         I stepped carefully through the twisted brush and broken limbs. I had never ventured this far into the forest. The unknown ground stuck to my shoes and the green air filled my lungs. Everyone in town spent their days working hard in the fields and their nights resting for the next days work; no one had time to explore the forest. And even now, as I stepped carefully through the darkness, I couldn’t explore. I had a purpose here. The rustling leaves whispered in my ears and the trees groaned softly as I passed. I was glad; anything was better than silence.
         I adjusted the pack on my shoulder. My blade knocked against my knees as I walked, clumsily attached to my belt with the leather laces from one of my shoes. I tried not to think about how unprepared I was; I had learned swordsmanship with Nam from his father for a few years, but that was it. I’d only ever practiced with them in the forest just beyond the view of the street. This was not practice.
         The brush of my shoes against the leaf-flattened ground was steady and comforting. The only sounds in the forest were that of the solitary earth: rustling leaves as it slept, heaving a sigh in its dreams, gently shivering under the glow of the stars. The only living sound was of me breathing; the pillagers that lived in these woods had hunted all the other animals down. Once the forest was cleared of life, they took to attacking our village. They didn’t grow food of their own; instead they took from the people who couldn’t protect themselves. Our farms were our lives; we spent all our time on them to support ourselves. It wasn’t fair that they could just steal from us. My resolve hardened with my anger, I would find the resistance. I was convinced they existed even if my father wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t the only one who wanted to fight back. There’d been talk about the resistance for a long time, that they lived in the forest as well but they weren’t strong enough to go against the pillagers yet, they need more people, more soldiers. I was ready to be one of those soldiers.
         It was peaceful here, but I couldn’t embrace it. I was on edge. The darkness swallowed too much of my vision; the earth sounds concealed too many other sounds. I had to listen. I had to see.
         I tried not to think of what was to come. I was positive that the resistance existed, but I wasn’t positive I could find them. Pillagers lived in this same forest; they could find me just as easily as the resistance could. What would they do to me if they found me? I had already lost so much to them.
         I remembered clearly the first time they attacked our village. Nam, my childhood friend, was walking with me from the town well back to our family’s fields. Our battered, soil-covered clothes swished between our legs. At thirteen years old, Nam was no bigger than I, just as skinny-legged and noodle-armed. We lugged our buckets of water through the dry streets of Halmisteck, kicking up dust with each dragging step of our weary feet.
         Nam and I were both breathing heavily in the summer heat. He spoke, “Some day—“ he breathed, “—I won’t live in this crap town anymore. I’ll make it to the King’s Land, I swear it to heaven above.”
         “Yeah?” I replied, trying to sound skeptical with what little air I could use to speak. I switched hands on my bucket, leaning over to compensate for the weight. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
         Nam grunted as he readjusted his grip. “I’m gonna enter their ranks, join the King’s Forces. That’s what Pop’s been training me for, don’tcha know?”
         I gaped. The King’s Forces? The ones who protected the kingdom and the city around from harm? That’s what he’d been training for all this time? What have I been training for then? “Nam, that’s no better life than this. You’ll be in danger.”
         “No Lyra, it’s so much better. They’re always lookin’ for recruits so you get paid well. You could work for ‘em for just a couple ‘a years and be fit the rest of your life.”
         I glared over at him. “Well great, Berdinam.” I huffed. “You can run off and get all rich and I’ll be stuck here delivering water to the farmers and the cattle the rest of my life.” He met my gaze but I stubbornly looked away. I was hurt and I didn’t want him to see. But it came out in my voice as I said, “Girls can’t join the King’s Forces.”
         He adjusted his bucket again; I could feel his eyes on me. “I’ll just have to come back for you then.” He said firmly. “You, and Mim too.”
         A bubble of heat formed in my chest and the aching went away. I still didn’t look at him.
         Suddenly, Nam’s bucket hit the ground.
         “Nam!” I cried, looking at his overturned bucket and the water that was quickly spreading and soaking into the thirsty ground. “You big fool, now—“
         But he was off running. “Nam? Nam!” I started after him, my water sloshing too and fro over the rim of my bucket. I set it down in the road carefully, though I was sure if I ever got back to it, it would be gone. Then I rushed towards our fields, following the flailing limbs of Nam’s quickly shrinking body.
         That’s when I heard the screaming.
         My feet picked up. Something’s wrong. I listened now, and unnatural noises were coming from the far east reach of town—where Nam’s house was, and mine.
         I could see people in the fields; they were small and far away, but I could tell they weren’t meant to be there. They moved different from the people who worked the earth. An ominous feeling crept through my skin.
         Mim. Mother.
         The road stretched on too long as I tried to reach our home, my shoes scratched endlessly across the pressed dirt. As I ran past the Herter’s house, someone kicked in the door. More yells came. Slinking men in suits that looked like leaves cluttered this end of town. They ran past me like I was nothing, nothing more than one of the dirty rats skittering away in fear. No more of a threat than them. I suppose I should have been glad to be left alone, but it made me angry. I could do nothing to them. They knew it, and worse, I knew it too.
         My door gaped open when I arrived, like the hole of an abandoned cave. “Mother?” I called in. A man appeared instead; I didn’t have time to be afraid. With a fierce grip, he grabbed me by the arm—his fingers fitting all the way around it—and pulled me inside.
         “What are you doing here?” He demanded, shaking me. “You should’ve stayed away. Haven’t I always told you—“
         “But Father, Nam ran here—I just—“ My tongue fumbled like it always does when I talk to him.
         “Get out.” He threw me towards the back door. “Find your mother. Take the outskirts and stay out of sight.” He left through the front door, his chopping axe held tightly in one well-worked hand. He didn’t wait for my reply; he knew I would do what I was told.
         But first—I hurried to my room, my entire body shaking with anxiety, and reached under the wood plank of my bed. The hilt of my sword was calming and exhilarating all in the same moment; I held it tight and unsheathed the worn blade before running out of my room and through the back door of my house.
         The noise hit me as soon as I got outside and my legs didn’t quite want to work. A scream came from ahead, and then a yell. “Mom!” I whirled around, gripping my sword more tightly than necessary. I nearly cried at the familiarity of that voice. No, please no.
         Somehow, I managed to run. I kept between the forest and the houses, passing fields and bales and barrels. Some men in green were running back into the forest now carrying things that didn’t belong to them. Two men appeared from Nam’s family’s field dragging a woman. She cried and struggled and Nam yelled after her again. “Mom, no!” The men rushed into the forest with the others, and Nam followed right after them. I watched him run, stricken with fear. His mother. They’re taking his mother. Nam…It’s no use, you’re not strong enough. Where’s my mother? Is she safe? And Mim, did they take her too? I didn’t step into the forest. I didn’t move to help Nam. I watched him disappear into the leaves, telling myself that there was nothing I could do, until he was out of sight. Then, broken inside, I turned back to my path. Find mother. Father told me to find mother, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Nam will be fine. He’s a boy. He’s strong. He’ll be okay.
         He wasn’t. I came back to the dark forest, shivering not from the chill. Nam never came back after that, and neither did his mother. I would never forgive those thieving pillagers. And I would never forget the sight of Nam disappearing into the forest; he was so young, he never had a chance.
         I heard a rustling in the trees and slowed; another sound came from the ground. Quiet, but obviously breaking the sleeping rhythm of the earth sounds.
         My heartbeat quickened, but I controlled my breathing. Slowly in and out, nice and quiet so I could focus and listen. I brought out my knife and bore my eyes into the darkness. Nothing could be seen but five feet in front of me. I held my ground, listening.
         Quiet, slow-moving—it could have been the wind, but these sounds were solid: the sounds of feet against the earth. I knew immediately that I was outnumbered. One or two and I could have held my ground, but…
         Without a word, I bent down and set my weapon on the chilled ground. Then I stood back up, horribly empty-handed, and raised my fingers to the dark sky. The hairs on my arms stood; I gritted my teeth to stop their trembling. I looked around, but no one emerged from the darkness. No one came down from the trees above.
         “I’m not here to fight. Come out.” I said, feeling foolish speaking to the trees. An eerie quiet settled as I waited and I had to keep reassuring myself: I knew they were there.
         I listened for whispers, movement: the ting of metal, the shuffling of feet. Instead there came a voice, unconcealed and sharp after the quiet night, addressing me directly. “Step into the light.” Then came a rustle, like all the hidden bodies were shifting to see me.
         I stepped forward, out of the shadows and into a bright patch of moonlight. It sank into my skin and seemed to make me glow. I was shining like the moon in the middle of this empty forest with only a small group of hidden strangers to see me. But they saw me perfectly. I was utterly exposed.
         I wished they would just come out and talk with me. I only wanted to join them. A twinge of fear reawakened in me and I became alert again. Remember, this could be the pillagers. There’s no guarantee that this is the resistance I’ve been searching for. I tried to remember where I had set my sword. It was only a few steps behind me.
Suddenly, a shadow stretched out from the rest, like the forest darkness was stepping towards me. I took an involuntary step back and swallowed hard trying to keep my heart out of my throat. A second shadow flanked the first. Their movements smeared with the background of the forest. The only skin visible on them was their lower jaw; their mouths were thin lines across their moon-paled skin. The rest of their faces were concealed with masks and their skin was clothed in black. Their garb was unlike that of the pillagers and my heart raced as I began to believe: this really was the resistance; I had found them.
         They were two men, both much taller than I, and for some reason it made me think of my little sister—Mimary—so small, holding to my leg with her head barely reaching my hip. I would always pat her soft blonde curls. It crossed my mind then that I might never be able to do that again.
         The sadness of that thought overwhelmed my fright for a moment so that when the first man asked for my name I didn’t think before replying, “Lyra.”
         “Lyra.” The first man said; the second shifted on his feet. “This is no safe place for a young girl. Tell me, why are you wandering about so late at night? Lost?”
         It would have been so easy to nod. Just nod and be treated like a child. Maybe even taken safely home. But I had decided long ago that I was no longer a child. After Nam disappeared…I couldn’t afford to be a child anymore. I breathed firmly out my nose before answering. “I’m here to join you.” Then, to clarify: “The resistance.”
         The second man grabbed the first one by the arm but he didn’t react, he merely pointed behind me and said. “Grab your weapon. Lets go.”
         Surprised at his promptness, I paused before hurrying over to pick up my blade from the leaves. I then followed them into the darkness of the forest, the others filing in around me, and they led me away from my last chance of turning back.

***
It was a lot smaller than I had imagined…and worn out. Hastily assembled fabric tents hung about in the trees looking more like an alley for the poor than an avenging rebellion camp.
         It took us till dawn to arrive, though I felt like we had wandered around the entire forest before making our way here—the moon circling around us as we went. I was usually fairly good with direction, but after a sleepless night trekking through an unfamiliar forest, I had no idea where I was.
         I sat gratefully now on a worn log outside of a thick, dirt-covered tent. One of the shadows from last night sat with me, though now I could tell she was a girl. She still wore her mask—made out of a mixture of bark and leaves—and sat up straight. Her hair was black and long and knotted in a braid down her back. We listened to the two men inside, the same ones who had approached me in the forest; they were arguing and every once in a while the younger one raised his voice enough for me to hear.
         “She’s too young!”
         There was a mumbled reply.
         More whispers—a pause. “—that’s not the point—“
         Frustration ate at my chest as I tried to listen.
         “—please, you have to send her back.”
         I won’t go back. I thought, almost offended by the stranger in the tent. And I’m not that young. There have been plenty of girls younger than me that have married off and left home. What’s the difference?
         “You’re from Halmisteck, aren’t you.” The girl next to me spoke up.
         I nodded. Of course. Where else would I be from? The King’s Land? No one from there would be here to help.
Just then, one of the men left the tent, the younger one. I couldn’t see his face as he walked away—body rigid. The girl next to me stood, so I stood as well and she led me into the weathered tent. She removed her mask in front of the older man sitting behind a makeshift desk of lopsided wood. I watched her as she sat down, cross-legged, in the corner. I had never seen her before in my life.
         I looked at the man before me: disheveled brown hair, older—maybe in his forties—eyes that were worn by the sun and skin that was dyed by it. “Lyra, correct?” He asked in a gravelly voice, but I hardly heard him. I’d expected a familiar face—someone from Halmisteck. Everyone knows everyone else in Halmisteck, or has at least seen them before. But no, I looked between the two people sharing the tent with me and I didn’t recognize them at all.
         “You’re not from Halmisteck.”
         “I’m not.” The man confirmed.
         “Then where?” I asked, genuinely confused. They couldn’t be from the King’s Land, why would they live in the forest, why wouldn’t they have the King’s Forces? There are no other towns around, only farmland and empty fields for miles.
         “Oper, west of here—straight through the forest from the town of Halmisteck.” He replied; he watched me as I thought.
         “That means…we’re not the only ones being attacked by the plunderers.” I looked into his calm eyes with shock. “Your town too? I never knew…no one did.”
         He nodded, understanding. “That’s how they want it. Your town is much larger than ours, harder to control. The plunderers took Oper, they have it surrounded. No one in, no one out. We haven’t gotten recruits from our town for over three years. We don’t know the conditions on the inside…” A worry entered his eyes. “Halmisteck is our only hope, but young, strong warriors are few. That’s why we need you, Lyra.”
         “That’s why I came: to fight.”
         He smiled ever so slightly. “Very well. Training begins now. Follow Aster, she’ll teach you the ropes around here.”
         “Thank you.” I said. The girl—Aster—stood up from where she sat in the corner and I followed her out of the tent and into the warm morning. The leaves rustled gently from the wind, stray hairs tickled my cheeks. The sun shone with a hope I hadn’t seen in years and I let it soak into my skin, warming the cold anger and fear I’d been holding in for so long. Things were finally going to change, and I was going to help change them.