The Last of Arrows

Rebels

The leader met us at the same platform where just a couple of hours ago I was going to die.

His cold eyes lingered on my weapons. I didn't dare bring my guns that I had collected from the soldiers. Esmeralda stood quietly beside me, not talking much. The whole way to the meeting point she barely spoke.

She was probably still shocked from the death of the man in our house. The leader didn't even spare Esmeralda a second look. He pressed his lips into a thin line, saying, "this way, Nomad. We have nurses over here."

I nodded, following the boulder of a man. We walked through the deserted streets of Polis. I spotted a couple of teenagers milling around with weapons in the hands. They shot me and Esmeralda a nonchalant look as if they didn't want to kill us a couple of hours before.

We kept walking through maze like neighborhoods. The leader spoke to Esmeralda about the directions where to go from where to where. I hung behind them, not in the mood to talk.
The leader kept walking, pointing out some architectural cites.

I didn't bother paying attention, most of it I had already read. Esmeralda nodded and said very few words. As we rounded a corner, the street gave away to open markets and people. Lots of them.

The leader glanced at me over his shoulder. "We're not as heartless as you think we are." He said. I pursed my lips. We passed by a few tents, Rebels yelling at us to buy their food or clothes.

Questions kept bubbling in my mind. "How would you people buy things if you destroyed all the banking systems?" I asked. Esmeralda didn't even give me a glance. She was too busy looking around with wide eyes.

Lanterns hung between the tents, probably in the night they would look like stars. The leader didn't look back. "How about you, Nomad? We pay just like you would, we trade. Clothes, trinkets, gold, you name it. But what's really pricey is fresh meat." He answered, waving away a woman offering him necklaces.

I stared at the back of the leader's neck. "Trade? I thought Plebs and Elites used the coin system." I said. The leader chuckled. "We're not either one of them."

My eyes traveled back on the last couple of tents. Fresh meat? That was really easy to come by, but it sounded like the Rebels were running out of any fresh food.

The realization crept on me slowly. They didn't know how to hunt. Of course they didn't, they would be rich in goods and trade with other towns. I wondered why didn't the few Nomads in the Rebels group hadn't taught them how to do so.

I shook my head. The Rebels were going to lose the war without realizing it. They needed to act, or else their people would die. As we walked down the last set of tents, I spotted a few kids chasing each other around.

My throat closed up as I noticed their unmarked arms. They were all younger than the age thirteen, their skins unfamiliar with the burn of iron. A few mothers shouted at them, calling them over. Like a heard of sheep, they all ran back.

I picked up my pace to walk beside the leader. "The Rebels aren't a group of wannabe assassins. They're a community." I murmured. The leader nodded. "Glad you noticed," he drawled. "We are trying to make ourselves our own people."

The leader stopped at the last tent. There was no merchandise, only an old woman sitting on a chair who was apparently sleeping. The leader poked her shoulder, startling her awake. Her almond eyes slowly opened.

Her copper wrinkled skin reminded me of the dried prunes my mother use to make me eat. Her midnight black hair was pulled into a long braid. Her dark brown eyes trailed from the leader to me. She blinked at me.