War Paint

A. Marina

When no one moves, Hawk goes on. "By now, I am sure you have all heard the hearsay about the Others that are approaching. They have advanced into Hallie Territory. As a unified force, you will be defending your legion and Nation."

Women all around share worried looks. My ears strain to make out the words, since Hawk and the soldiers are still yards away.

The Woodson recruits only got here a week or two ago, they can't possibly expect us to be ready so soon. My confidence plummets, the training does not seem like enough.

No one is ever prepared enough for war.

"We leave at four o'clock tomorrow. You are dismissed." Hawk's voice is harsh, but sure as stone, which is why no one dares to ask any questions.

Yet upon the soldiers' dismissal, wives close the distance between the hospital tent and their husbands, running across the field and into the crowd. And because I am younger and faster than the others, I make it there first, searching for my Andres.

"Humph," I huff, bumping into several large bodies.

I push through people of all ages and sizes, some even a full foot taller than me, who spit out rude comments to watch where I am going.

Unfortunate for them, however, is that I haven't the slightest bit of care - I only stop when I see Andres' back walking away from me, shoulders slumped.

Jogging up to him, I tap on his arm and bear hug him as he turns around, not noticing that other people are staring.

"Adeline," he says, with a voice full of relief.

In the hug, Andres' arms swallow me, and I ask myself, when did he get so tall?

This might be the last time I see my brother before he goes off into battle tomorrow, and all I can imagine is him as a little boy, walking home from school with mud on his boots.

The both of us humming to our small radio in the rain.

"Andres," I sigh, taking his face in my hands before deciding to give him a half-hearted ruffle in his hair.

His friend Ari joins us before my brother can return the gesture.

"Hey, Adeline." The boy greets me politely, nodding his head.

By now, the rest of the crowd outside is diminishing save for a few strays, because the sky is getting dark and we ought to have dinner soon. I shiver with the lack of a jacket, and watch my brother closely as the evening shadows start to reflect on his freckled face.

On the surface, Andres seems fine maintaining a casual conversation with Ari off to the side of the field, but I can tell by his demeanor that something is a little bit off.

It's a blessing and a curse to know him so well.

He's scared, I say to myself, noticing his hands fidget with his clothes.

If anything happens to my brother tomorrow... I'd blame it on myself. He is like both my son and my brother, as strange as it sounds.

I practically raised him when my mother had passed, and my father was too grief-stricken to even come out of his room.

I was there when twelve year old Andres had come out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, when he had bad dreams and wanted me to sing him to sleep. I was there the first time he laughed after our mother died, because I accidentally tripped in the dirt outside while planting food in our garden.

And so, I was there when he laughed and he cried, but what will Andres do once he is out on the battlefield tomorrow, afraid but all alone?

"Will you be okay?" I ask my brother abruptly, taking a step closer to him and his friend Ari on the side.

I realize I cut their conversation short, but time is running short now. The fires are turning to ash, leaving only the stars as a source of light.

This may be my last chance to say goodbye.

"Hey, Adeline. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You know that."

I nod, pressing a hand to my chest.

As well as I know my brother, he knows me too.

"I love you," I state.

"I love you too."

We stand there looking at each other, deep in thought.

He knows it's his last chance to say goodbye, too.

Does he see that I am struggling with my own thoughts, memories, emotions?

Swallowing hard, Andres speaks up. "I'll see you soon, sister."

The optimism in his voice almost makes me laugh in irony, but I know that this is his way of reassuring himself that he will be fine.

As cynical as I am, his unwavering assurance of the good that is in the world is something I like to think that I taught him to do when he was smaller - maybe too small to remember.

Look on the bright side, I'd hum in his ear as he laid his head on my lap.

He couldn't have been older than twelve years old when mother was sick.

There's so much out there, you just got to look up.

"Take care of yourself, Andres."

I kiss him on the forehead gently, and my baby brother's eyes water a bit.

Aware that his friend is in need of space, Ari steps back as Andres pulls me in for another tight hug that makes me want to run away and forget everything just to enjoy this moment.

I close my eyes to savor it.

"I will," he whispers faintly into my ear so that it tickles.

Eyes open now, I let my brother go as my hands reach into my dress pockets to reveal two little sewn pieces of fabric each the size of a finger.

"Wait, Andres." I say as he stops his walk away from me. "One more thing. Take this."

I hand him one piece of cloth, tucking the other away into the pocket of my own clothes.

"It reads, A. Marina." I speak quietly.

A. Marina. The initials of each of our family's names.

Antonio, Alina, Adeline, and Andres Marina.

I had sewn our family into twin pieces of fabric, so that Andres and I can take them anywhere.

"'I love you." he repeats.

"I know." I say, backing away. "I have a piece of fabric too, and mine says the same thing."

But really what I meant to say is that we'll always be with you. The cloth momento is my one way of saying goodbye just in case one of us doesn't make it back.

"See you," He replies weakly.

"See you."

Not willing to be the first one to look away, I watch my brother and his friend walk away from me and into the woods, the men's camp awaiting.

There is no doubt that all of us here are contemplating what our world will be like tomorrow, but somehow I can't bring myself to contemplate a place where I lose my brother.

My brother, my rock, my family's safe space.

If I died, things would be okay.

Life would go on as it always did in Woodson - the ladies would be at the well, Andres would go to school, and my father would stay holed up in his room tinkering.

But if Andres were to be gone... my father would not only be losing one soul, but two.

I would be broken.

Father would be broken.

God keep Andres safe.