"Well, that's the border", Thatcher stopped in front of a ramshackle fence constructed out of rusted corrugated iron and loose bits of wood sticking out at random.
It looked as if it could collapse at any moment, but nonetheless, it stood strong.
It was twelve feet tall, minimum, and seemed to go on forever in either direction.
"Can we stop now? Maybe take a minute to catch our breath?", Rena asked the group.
"No, we'd best keep moving", Thatcher spoke over her shoulder.
"We've been at it all night", Rena argued back.
"And we're probably going to be at it all day, too, so it's best if we keep going and keep the momentum up", Thatcher rebuffed, taking a glance at the border and trying to find a weak spot.
"I agree, babe", Magnus clutched Renas' hand, "if we stop now, it'll be harder to get moving again".
"All right then", Rena spoke.
Ruataupare tightened her feathered cloak, the air was chilly - the sun hadn't touched the ground in what seemed like forever.
"The sky's blacker here", she noted aloud.
"Indeed", Thatcher replied without paying too much attention.
"Whatever's causing it has to be somewhere around here", Magnus released her hand from Renas and took a few steps forward, standing directly next to Thatcher.
"We're going to have to climb over", Ruataupare piped up.
"Seems that way", Thatcher concurred.
"How? We've no rope, no nothing", Rena replied coolly, "is it not worth looking for a breach in the wall?".
"This thing, to my knowledge, is at least a hundred kilometers in either direction", Magnus pointed out, "it's not worth it".
"We've got horses", Rena pointed to the pair of brumbies behind them.
"And given that they're wild, we're lucky they've not bucked us off yet; I don't fancy pushing them too much further", Thatcher spoke lazily.
"Okay, so then what?", Rena asked with disdain.
Vaguely, Thatcher ripped a sliver of fabric from the bottom of her cloak. From there, she tore it into two equal slits and wrapped each hand with them.
The others watched on curiously. Thatcher approached the wall and placed a foot inside a small rust hole. From there, she heaved herself upward, poking a fist-sized bore into a second patch of rust.
With absolute care not to cut herself, she pulled upward, finding a third hole on which she could place a second hand.
Finally, she was up high enough so that she could reach the top. As the others watched with morbid fascination, Thatcher heaved herself over the top and fell with a thump on the other side of the fence.
Unwrapping her hands, she searched the ground for a small rock. Once she'd found it, she balled it inside the wrappings and tossed them over the fence.
"Ow!", Magnus yelped, the rock striking her wrist.
"SORRY!", Thatcher yelled back over the fence.
Within two minutes, the four of them were standing on the other side of the Waikatoan Southern Border.
There was nothing but yellow, dying, grass in all directions in front of them.
"Waikato", Thatcher spoke to herself.
"I s'pose I won't be mapping anything", Magnus scrunched her face, remembering the loss sustained when she and Thatcher lost their canoe the night prior.
"No, I guess you won't be", Thatcher focussed on the endless grass spread out in front of them, "come on, ladies, it's gonna be a hell of a walk".
With that, they set off north, towards an unknown country, an unknown future.
*
"Wolesley!", Grayson shouted, bolting past Aspers' home and towards the rest of the work.
"What?!", Wolesley spun on his heel with alarm, completely cutting off the Guardsman he was speaking to.
Grayson was out of breath, huffing heavily as he spoke, "boat... Harbor... People...".
Grayson pointed towards the ocean to their right. True, Wolesley noted, there was a schooner in the harbor, one that belonged to neither Gossfordshire nor Motueka.
"You sure it's not Zedeylia or Rebury?", Wolesley asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Neither... Have... Boats", Grayson puffed out, his face red, splotchy, and sweaty.
"GUARDS!", Wolesley shouted abruptly, startling the Guardsman behind him.
With his command, a handful of Guardsman surrounded him - "there's an unknown oceancraft arrived beyond the Citadel, get your horses, line the rooves with archers. I need two men to accompany myself and Grayson in canoes and offer suppression if we need it", Wolesley instructed them.
Within twenty minutes, they were in canoes paddling towards the schooner in the harbor.
"You're in your element, doing this", Grayson called over the waves.
"As opposed to?", Wolesley asked as they drew closer.
"The political shit", Grayson replied.
"Yeah, well", Wolesley waved him down, "at the ready, gentlemen!".
The men in the rears of the canoes took aim with their bows, pointing them at the deck of the schooner.
"COME OUT, OR WE'LL FIRE!", Wolesley shouted upwards.
Nothing seemed to happen for a few moments, giving them the impression the boat was abandoned.
Atua poked his head over the side of the craft, "no need for that, we're seeking Ruataupare".
"What for?", Wolesley gritted his teeth and asked.
"Motueka has fallen".
"What?", Wolesleys tension had been replaced with confusion.
"We are survivors of an attack on Pa. There are five hundred of us aboard. Men, women, children", Atua replied.
Wolesley looked at Grayson, then back to Atua.
Looking back to Grayson, he knew this was no joke, "tell the archers to stand down, I'm gonna dock 'em".
Grayson turned, paddling back to the Citadel shoreline. The Guardsman behind Wolesley turned his bow away, pulling the arrow out from the drawstring and tucking it back into its holster on his back.
"I'm coming up to board, I'm going to dock the ship over at the wharves", Wolesley spoke gently.
Atua tossed down a slimy rope.
"Harreina", Sirene shook Harreinas shoulder, attempting to wake her.
"Sirene?", Harreina opened her eyes, "Sirene".
"Harreina I've got some news", Sirene spoke grimly, sitting on the bed.
"I can see you", Harreina spoke with a wry smile.
"Harreina, Motueka has fallen", Sirene ignored her and spoke with urgency.
"Fucking what?", Harreina shot upright.
"The mailboy, Rosley, he witnessed it", Sirene relayed.
"Fallen?".
"Fences burning, bodies, screaming".
"You don't think it's some kind of... Internal thing?", Harreina asked fearfully.
"No... He said there were two different styles of clothing - you know what the Motuekans wear; feathery frills and basic things like that... Rosley said there were two styles, Motuekan style, and Cold Country style".
"No... Thatcher and Eldore have dealt with them", Harreina spoke insistently.
"They haven't, Harreina, they've dragged them North and have brought it onto our doorstep", Sirene replied coldly.
"No, I'm sorry but you're wrong, whatever this is has nothing to do with Thatcher or Eldore".
"Harreina, you need to pull your head out of Thatchers' arsehole and look at the reality", Sirene chucked back.
"Watch your tongue".
"Absolutely not. Rosley has told dozens of people already, making out that he barely escaped. The people are riled, scared!", Sirene returned forcefully.
"Then it's your job to ease them!", Harreina pushed back.
"Not anymore! I'm contesting with the others. I'm no longer sitting back and allowing you to do things I don't agree with!", Sirene informed her.
"You're contesting?", Harriend placed a hand over her heart.
"Correct, as the one with the most time in the main office, I think I'm best placed to do it", Sirene allowed a drop of her anger to subside.
"Is that right?", Harreinas nostrils flared, her eyes widened.
"Yes, Harreina. I've only ever known a world with you at the helm. I know Rebury, I know you", Sirene allowed herself to soften entirely, "and I've learned how to run this place".
Harreina nodded, her lip trembled dangerously.
"I wish you all the best, now get the fuck out of my bedroom", Harreina thrust a finger towards the door.
"Harreina...", Sirene pleaded.
"GO! SIRENE. NOW!", Harreina yelled shakily.
Sirene stood, sauntered over to the door, and opened it. With a sad glance back, she closed the door, leaving Harreina sobbing on the bed.
"There's a farm up ahead", Magnus pointed out.
Between the four of them, none had moisture in their mouths.
Even with the relative chill, they were still sweaty and thirsty.
"Let's check it out", Thatcher choked.
"They mightn't be friendly", Rena side-eyed her. Magnus' influence on Renas' speaking patterns was glaringly obvious to Thatcher, who couldn't help but smile.
"They might have water, come on", Thatcher half-ran toward the ramshackle cabin.
The others followed, struggling to keep up.
With a gentle knock on the door, Thatcher stood back on the rotted veranda.
The corrugated iron awning flecked rust on their heads in the breeze.
A beat passed before a smiling old man opened the door.
With bowl cut black hair and green ink covering his leathered skin in intricate tattoos, not dissimilar to the ones on Ruataupares chin, he looked them over.
"I saw you approaching", he spoke in a language that sounded fairly close to Maori.
Thatcher and Magnus cast expecting glances at Rena and Ruataupare.
"Did you get that?", Ruataupare asked Rena.
"No, did you?", Rena returned.
"No".
"What's going on?", Thatcher asked Rena.
"It's not... It's not the same", Rena shrugged.
"What'd'ya mean?", Thatcher furrowed her brow.
The old man watched them, amused as Ruataupare chirped up - "I understood 'I saw you', but the rest isn't a word I get".
"I've heard you speak it fluently hundreds of times", Magnus chucked in.
"You're not getting it - what he speaks and what we speak isn't the same", Ruataupare used her hands for emphasis.
"Right - what'da we do, then?", Thatcher asked, just now noticing that the old man was watching them. She couldn't help but smile.
Whether it was the chat with Magnus, regarding Asper, or the fact that she was somewhere new again (seemingly the best place for her to be in her element, she noted internally), she felt happy - genuinely happy. She was on an adventure with her friends. The grimmer edges were simply brushed to the side, as Thatcher just took a second to look at the old man smile.
"May we come inside?", Ruataupare spoke slowly, enunciating clearly.
"Yes", the man waved them into his home.
Stepping through the door and into the home, Thatcher took stock.
It was small, no more than two rooms, and had been built using a mixture of concrete bricks, corrugated iron, and handmade wood pellets.
It had a slight odor of rotting fruit, owing to the stack of moldy oranges on the wooden benchtop to the direct left of the front door.
They sat around a small table in the living room, the old man taking his place on a small seat carved out of a tree trunk.
"Are you from the city?", he asked.
"No, Gossfordshire", Ruataupare established.
"South?", he asked back.
"Yes".
"Why are you here?", he enquired.
"We need to speak to the person in charge", Ruataupare answered.
"King Tama?", he asked back.
"Yes", she tried to keep her words short and sweet.
"It will take hours to walk, would you like some lunch?", he asked, surveying his guests.
"Yes, that would be nice. Could you help us find our way?", Ruataupare asked.
"I do not understand".
"Where does the king live?".
The old man shuffled as he tried to think of the best way to phrase it so as not to get lost in translation.
"North, till dawn, there lays another wall, inside is a city. Find Keru, he is the healer. He will take you to King Tama", the man explained. Rena listened intently, taking in as much as she could.
"Now, we eat", he finished, standing and trodding into the small kitchenette.
He fiddled about, pulling bread and small wooden plates from an ad-hoc cupboard crafted from the same iron used on his walls.
"It is not much, but it is all I can spare", he called out to Ruataupare, turning the corner and entering the lounge.
"It is more than enough, we are grateful", Ruataupare replied as he placed the plates in the center of their small circle.
Turning on his heel, the man re-entered the kitchen and grabbed a ceramic jug of water.
Holding it tightly, he walked back into the lounge, placed the jug down, and sat back in his place.
One by one, the women drank from the jug, each taking a hefty swig before passing it to their right.
"You said till dawn - is that only by foot? How long by horse?", Ruataupare asked.
"By foot, it will take till dawn two days from now", he replied.
"He says it will take two days to walk, dawn tomorrow by horse", Ruataupare spoke to Thatcher and Magnus.
"Where can we find a horse?", Rena asked.
The old man smiled, a mischievous smile, the kind of smile that showed the cogs of his brain spinning.
"I have two", he remarked wryly, "but not to gift".
"Not to gift", Ruataupare allowed herself to be amused.
"No", he laughed, "I see something nice".
"Do tell", Ruataupare beckoned.
"I like that cloak", He pointed to the lengthy red, white, and black-feathered cloak draped around Ruataupares' torso.
Ruataupare shuffled uncomfortable, wearing a nervous grin.
"What?", Magnus noted Rautaupares' discomfort and asked.
"He wants her cloak", Rena said without dropping her focus on the pair speaking in front of them.
Thatcher swallowed a lump of bread, she knew how the conversation was going to go.
"I can't do that", Ruataupare shook her head likely.
"I thought you'd say that", he smiled gently, "no bother. You may finish eating, and rest your feet before you go".
Grayson blustered through the door to Thatchers' office, startling both Agnes and Pimly.
The slinky black cat bolted from Agnes' lap and sprinted from the room.
"Agnes", Grayson puffed - his chubby cheeks a violent shade of red.
"Wolesley", Agnes stood, her brows touching on the bridge of her nose, "what's happened?".
"You need to come down to the refugee village", Grayson exhaled.
"Grayson, what's happened?", Agnes repeated, stepping around from behind the oak desk.
"Motueka has fallen".
Agnes could hear the chatter from the Huttson to Citadel motorway. Turning left at the old debris pile, she was greeted by hundreds of standing people.
People climbed out of her way as she and Grayson rode their horses through the crowd.
Agnes was taken aback by the sheer number of people.
Wolesley waited for them at the head of the crowd. Standing with him was Atua, Ngeru, Asper, and Ikime. Agnes recognized only Asper.
Sliding from her horse, she hobbled over to Wolesley, "what's happened?".
"I'll let him explain", Wolesley pointed to Atua.
"Atua", he greeted.
"Agnes", she responded in kind. Neither quite knew whether or not to physically greet, both stood awkwardly for a second.
"Cold Country", Atua responded simply.
"Not us", Asper chimed in, "Noxas' lot".
"The Settled?", Agnes looked Asper up and down.
Ikime nodded before Asper had the chance to reply.
"I thought the point to getting you lot out of Cold Country was to focus our excision on the Settled", Agnes replied dryly.
"Seems they've made moves after us before that happened", Asper replied with a hint of genuineness.
"So what happened?", Agnes refocussed her attention on Atua.
"Dunno, exactly, they had explosives", Atua spoke pensively.
"Fuck", Asper felt her mouth dry.
"What?", Wolesley and Agnes responded in unison.
"They were ours", Asper said hollowly, "Thatcher told us to leave them at the camp... They've taken them and are using them against us".
"What the fuck are you talking about?", Agnes bore down on Asper, "How many are there?".
"At least twenty... If not more", Asper felt her voice thicken.
"You fucking idiot, you total fucking idiot!", Agnes shouted, "Twenty?! Twenty explosives?".
With a heavy heart, Asper sprinted away from the crowd, leaving Ikime glaring at Agnes and Ngeru following after her.
Agnes was huffing sweatily, her heart facing and her usually pale face glowing red.
"Cheers for that", Ikime sniped, walking back towards the village.
Agnes glowered at Wolesley, "what?!", she snapped.
"Was that necessary?", Wolesley groaned.
"Motueka has been wiped off the map from an enemy seeking to move north!", Agnes reminded them all.
"She did the right thing leaving them behind, you're acting as if she did it on purpose!", Grayson barrelled down.
"How do we know she didn't?", Agnes stood and cast her eye between the men surrounding her.
Wolesley shook her head and moved back to the crowd.
"What's the plans?", Grayson sighed.
"Guess we've got no choice, do we? We'll need to move out over another few streets", Agnes puffed, "but that doesn't change the food situation".
"We can forage", Atua piped in.
"We've adopted plenty Motuekan foraging techniques; what can be foraged, has been foraged", Grayson spoke.
"We'll find a way", Atua smiled with sincerity.
"All right then, get your people ready to work, go down those streets and start clearing the bushes", Grayson instructed.
Crying on the beach under the black sky, Asper felt Ngeru sit beside her.
"Can I please have a minute?", she asked through tears.
Not understanding a lick of English, he didn't move.
She didn't care, she was in her own head.
Sniffling, she ran her fingers through her hair. Out the corner of her eye, she caught Ngeru staring.
With a thumb, he gestured wiping her tears.
She half nodded. A single swipe on each cheekbone, her tears were gone.
"Thanks", she mumbled.
They looked out over the water, a moment of peace.
*
Rena, Magnus, Thatcher, and Ruataupare sat out on the deck in a small circle, the smell of smoke faintly tinging the air.
The old man remained inside, listening to them speak their foreign language.
"We've gotta do it", Magnus spoke with crossed arms.
"It's my cloak, I'm not giving it away", Ruataupare shook her head. Her black hair fell unkempt and shaggy around her cheekbones.
"What other choice do we have?", Thatcher asked exasperated.
"Walk", Ruataupare replied bluntly.
"Fuck that noise", Thatcher frowned, "we'd lose an extra day".
"What's the rush?", Ruataupare leaned in slightly.
"The rush?", Thatcher retorted incredulously, "Both of our countries have zero food. We have fuck all in the way of clean water. No one else has an idea on how to handle this except me, so if I say 'we're rushing', then we're fucking rushing".
"Eldore is handling the south, the rush is finished", Ruataupare swallowed.
"Over? Do you think Eldores' little farm project is going to provide enough food for a combined population of fifty thousand? We might have the chance to secure more food here. If we succeed in securing land, we'd have two farm projects to provide us with food. Forgive me for acting like this is an important, pressing, issue", Thatcher pursed her lips.
"I'm not gonna lie, I'm kinda with Thatcher on this", Rena mumbled.
"Traitor", Ruataupare hissed.
"Maybe you don't need to give it to him", Magnus suggested.
"Go on", Thatcher threw her eyes to Magnus.
"What if you just used it as a bond? Give it to him for the horses now, give the horses back and retrieve it later?", Magnus explained.
"This cloak has been passed from leader to leader for more than 150 years, I'm not gonna be the fuckwit that loses it just for a pair of goddamned horses!", Ruataupare growled.
"It's three-to-one", Thatcher humpfed, "you're being asked to stand up and do something for the benefit of everyone, either get some bollocks and do the right thing or pack your shit and fuck off home".
Thatcher stood and strutted from the decking.
Ruatuapare stormed across the field after her, leaving Rena and Magnus alone.
"OI!", Ruatuapare called out.
Thatcher stopped and turned, only to be met with a smack to the jaw.
Rena spotted and bolted from the deck after her.
Ruataupare gave Thatcher no time to hit back, she dealt a knee to Thatchers' stomach before Rena had gripped her arms, pinning them behind her back. Ruatuapare thrashed about trying to break loose from Renas' grip.
Standing at the window, the old man watched with a look of anxiety.
"You insensitive little cow!", Ruatuapare screamed, "You have no fucking clue!".
"OF WHAT?!", Thatcher rubbed her jaw and shrieked back.
"This is my heritage and you're asking me to pawn it off like a common rock", Ruatuapare whimpered in disbelief.
"We are starving! People are starving! People in Motueka are starving! And yet, you're worried about a fucking coat!", Thatcher spat a glob of blood to the grass.
Magnus had now joined them, the old man still watched fervently.
"I can't!", Ruataupare broke from Renas' grip and took a step backward, "I'm sorry but you're too much for me. I can't do this anymore, I just can't deal with you".
"Ruataupare, wait!", Rena tried calling her back.
"No!", Ruataupare whipped back and argued, "No, I'm sick of her swanning about pretending she's some kind of hero when she's so clearly arrogant towards us, our people, our customs and our way of life".
"Your way of life?", Thatcher scoffed derisively, "You're Motuekans, not fucking aliens!".
"Not helping!", Magnus hissed at Thatcher.
"Helping? You wanna talk about fucking helping? You, Magnus, left me to deal with the fallout of a fucking battle that fractured our country to bits. You spent weeks telling me about a better way of living and then abandoned me when I needed you to help me put it into practice", Thatcher rounded on Magnus, "and you wanna talk about not helping?".
"You had Agnes, Wolesley, Grayson!", Magnus replied, affronted.
"BUT I DIDN'T HAVE YOU!", Thatcher yelled, spit flying from her teeth, "You two were my literal heroes, and you both abandoned me when I needed you most!".
No one said anything. The air stood still bar for the sound of a light breeze and the distant whinnying of horses behind the old mans' shack.
"I- uh- I'm sorry, that my actions made you feel like that", Magnus puttered, "but I had to preserve my own mental health, and I can't apologize for that".
Rena crossed a few steps, clutching Magnus' hand.
"I lost everything, Thatcher, my mother, my aunty... My faith in my country, you need to understand that with Motueka; I found my home. I found Rena. I'm sorry, honestly, truly sorry, that I never came back to see you. I'm sorry that I left you behind. And I'm sorry I hurt you", Magnus went on, "because you are my best friend. You have been since that first trip we went on when we were escaping persecution. You, Thatcher, gave me hope, and comfort, when I needed it most. Without you, I would still be a little farmer girl plucking tomatoes in Altomontis. All of this to say; I love you, but Motueka is my home, now, and I more than understand why Ruataupare doesn't feel comfortable using her cloak as leverage here. So if it means we need to walk for two days, or three, or even four, then we need to do it. There's no point in surviving if we give everything we survive for away".
"I want to thank you, for your apology", Thatcher spoke sincerely before drooping her demeanor a tad, "but I disagree; what's the point in having a culture if there's no one allowed to enjoy it".
"So how do we do this, then?", Rena gazed between the three other women, "We're clearly at a stalemate".
"Clearly", Thatcher rolled her eyes.
"I'll do it, okay?", Ruataupare grumbled.
"Really?", Rena asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, I'll do it, as a loan, I want it back", she pulled her cloak from her shoulders, "but if I don't get it back I'm holding you personally accountable", she pointed firmly at Thatcher.
"And I'd expect nothing less", Thatcher buzzed back, following Ruataupare towards the shack.
On the sand at the beach, Ngeru and Asper sat quietly, the sounds of workers building washed over them.
Their hands were inches apart, their eyes aimed firmly at the waves crashing on the sand.
Asper felt the warmth radiating from Ngerus fingers, she wanted to push them closer but the thought of Joran held her back.
Taking the lead, Ngeru placed two fingers over the top of Aspers'.
With his right hand, he brushed his index finger across her jawline, tugging her eyes to meet his own.
He placed his fingers against her lips, before bringing them to his own, wordlessly asking if he could kiss her.
With a nod, she agreed. Slowly, their faces met, their lips touching. Gently, lips parted, a tongue breached - a full lock.
Asper released her grief, allowing herself to become free and enjoy the moment for what it was.
She pushed Ngeru to the sand, straddling him. She mounted him, his hip bones pushing into her inner thighs.
With no care, she pulled her wrappings from her torso and allowed them to drop around her waist.
Ngerus' hands ran up the sides of her body, his eyes fixed on hers as she fumbled around with her pants.
An hour later, they were walking back to the building site, picking up tools, and lending a hand.
"Where the fuck've you been?", Ikime asked Asper as she picked up a machete and began hacking away at the gorse bushes running rampant through a small home on a side street.
"Making friends", Asper replied hollowly, flicking her eyes in Ngerus' direction.
"You know we don't have to stay here", Ikime spoke quietly.
"What?", Asper asked annoyedly.
"We're here, in the North, we can keep going", Ikime stopped hacking at bushes and spoke in a hushed voice.
"Ikime, what exactly are you saying?", Asper rounded on him menacingly.
"Asper, we don't need to stay here, we made it", Ikime insisted.
"We didn't do anything, Thatcher got us here. She did in a matter of days what we haven't done in years".
"So? We're here, aren't we?".
"I can't believe you", Asper shook her head and replied hollowly, "we've come from violence, and famine, and the constant stench of death, and here you are suggesting we go back to that".
"Noxa is less than four hours away, and he's moving north. We don't have to go back to anything if it's marching towards us".
"We are at a crossroads, Ikime, and we have to make a choice; either we stay and give aid to the armies that will take Noxa and his band of Settled folk down, or alternatively, we run and have those same armies take us down", Asper warned him.
"That woman made their feelings towards us clear; they see no difference between us and Noxa", Ikime referred to Agnes.
"Just because she's a xenophobic slunt doesn't mean they all are", Asper allowed her eyes to wander to Ngeru for just a second.
"And just because you got fucked by daddy Motueka doesn't mean they aren't", Ikime grumbled with a look of disgust on his face.
Asper allowed that remark to slide, though her face wore the insult.
"They have given us food, shelter and Thatcher is securing us a home of our own".
"Oh! Thatcher's doing that, is she? Thatcher, Thatcher, Thatcher fucking Thatcher! You're good friends with Thatcher, aren't you? Not like me, though, you know, the man who's been by your side for the better part of two years".
"You need to simmer the fuck down", Asper growled, "you're right, we have made it. We're not giving up this far through".
Ikime bit the inside of his cheek and took a deep breath, "yeah... Yeah that's fair", he exhaled, "I'm tired, I've not slept, and seeing you and... him", Ikime nodded in Ngerus' direction, "together made me realize that I've hardly spoken to you since we've been here".
Asper surveyed him, "I'm sorry I've not put the effort in, I'll try harder".
"No... It's not a 'you' thing... Truth is, I'm a little homesick... I know it sounds dumb but I'd be lying if I said otherwise".
The pair dropped their machetes to the cracked concrete ground and pulled one and other into a tight embrace.
Harreina stared out the window above her bed, looking out over the lake.
It was coming up seven o'clock, not that it made a difference given the black sky.
A knock at the door startled her, "yes?", she asked despondently.
"Harreina, it's me", Eldore spoke from the other side of the door.
He opened the door without waiting for a response, leaving Harreina grinning for the first time in days.
"How are you feeling?", Eldore asked, closing the door and wriggling into the bed next to Harreina.
His mustache was yellower than ever, the smell of cigars wafting from his clothes.
"Like shit", Harreina slowly dropped her grin.
"Well, you look fantastic", Eldore replied to the ever gaunt Harreina, it was obvious he was being sarcastic.
She planted a kiss on his lips and they sunk under the covers.
"Why are you here?", Harreina croaked.
"I wanted to see you", Eldore smiled.
"Thank you, I'm glad you're here", she squeezed his hand as she spoke.
"Your doctor told me about Motueka", Eldore informed her grimly.
"Sirene's blaming Thatcher", Harreina turned her face away from Eldores' slightly.
"Jesus... You know I don't think the same, right?", he double-checked, noting that she wasn't making eye contact with him.
"Me neither, but everyone who wants to replace me does, and it's going to cause problems with the other FPA countries", Harreina stared at the wall.
"Do you still want me on standby?".
"Yes".
"Okay...", Eldore trailed off.
For a moment, they just sat in silence, breathing.
"I didn't come here to talk politics, Harreina... I came here to spend time with someone I care about", Eldore cooed.
"I know", Harreina responded, "I just can't help but get a little depressed when giving thought to the world I'm leaving behind".
"So don't think about it, my love, think about the world you've built", Eldore whispered in her ear, "think about the people who'll be here to defend it".
Harreina rolled over, placing her face squarely in Eldores' chest.
"I love you, Eldore", Harreina said forcefully, "you're the only thing keeping me here".
Eldore was taken aback.
"Tell me what you want to see before you die", Eldore asked quietly, closing his eyes.
Harreina inhaled and gave a moment of thought, "I want to see the blue sky once more... Maybe Waikato".
Eldore slumped a little.
"What?", Harreina noticed, "Did I say something?".
"No...", he replied airily. "You know I was married before, right?".
"I do", Harreina replied.
"Her name was Belinda, we met in our thirties. No kids, of course, after my brother died in a scuffle in Hanston we took in Eion so we never cared much for kids of our own", Eldore pressed on, ignoring Harreinas guilty gulp; it was her men that killed Eldores brother in Hanston. "She got sick, about twenty years ago. I can't tell you how much I loved that fucking woman. She was like a fire in my belly, she was the reason I got up every day, the reason I stood for government, the reason I fought and sent men to die for Zedeylia. But, again, she got sick. First, her feet lost feeling, then her legs stopped working. She started pissing herself. Her arms locked up and before long, her lungs didn't work. She died in my arms, Harreina, and I lost myself for a while... I don't wanna see you like that, and as selfish as it sounds, I can't handle going through that again".
A tear dripped from Eldores baggy eyes, dropping onto Harreinas' hair.
Harreina didn't quite know what to say; what do you say when your boyfriend brings up his dead wife? She kept it simple - "stay the night?".
"Yeah", he sniffled.
Slowly he wriggled down so the two were face-to-face. With a gentle start, they locked lips.
There was an explicit, if unsaid, understanding that this would be the last night they spent together. Between them, a chasm of lost time, a wish for more.
*
Agnes sat behind her desk, Pimly purred loudly atop her lap. Wolesley and Grayson sat across from her, the trio locked in vigorous conversation.
"How?!", Agnes coughed, "We've got a thousand of Thatchers' motley gang there, and now we're migrating another 500 people, again, I ask how this is supposed to work? We're struggling to feed our own citizens!".
"We've got no choice, Agnes, it's our obligation under the Four Pillars Agreement", Grayson reminded her.
"How many people live in Motueka all up? We've only got the population of Pa, here, we don't know when the next twenty thousand people are going to come marching up here seeking assistance", Agnes growled.
"There's a hostile army between us and them; they're not coming here any time soon", Wolesley chimed in.
"Okay, so back to square one, how the fuck do we feed an extra two thousand-odd people?!", Agnes replied with an air of hysterics.
"I think we're almost to the point where we're going to need to start eating pets if I'm honest", Grayson cast a wicked glance at Pimly.
"I'll eat the Motuekans before you touch my fucking cat", Agnes scowled.
"No eating people, no eating cats", Wolesley grumbled, "there's got to be a better way".
"There isn't, land surveys have made this clear, the grasses aren't being pollinated so vegetables are dying, we've got nothing to feed the livestock so they're dying, the water is either contaminated or otherwise nonexistent, long story short; we're fucked", Agnes responded.
"In lieu of an actual solution, the only thing I can think of is; we stop using the Key Pits and start feeding the dead to the pigs", Grayson suggested.
"That's disgusting; we might as well skip the pigs and just eat the dead", Wolesley grimaced.
"Do you have any other options?", Agnes cast a glance between them.
"Truth is, no", Wolesley admitted.
"So what? That's it? We start feeding the dead to pigs?", Grayson asked.
"Yeah, I think that's the only choice", Agnes sighed.
"Fuck me that's grim", Wolesley sighed, "but if it's that or starve".
"We've not seen strife like this since Randall, and even then, we still weren't this stretched", Grayson noted.
Randall laid tucked under his bed, breathing as slowly as he could as soldiers marched through the village.
"There's no one here", a soldier announced to Noxa just outside Randalls' shack.
"You've checked every house?", Noxa asked with an air of menace.
"Yeah, all deserted", the soldier answered.
"Where's Rhi?", Noxa asked.
"Last I saw she was back at the center", the soldier responded, referencing Pa.
"Alright, light it up, make sure you smoke anyone that remains out", Noxa ordered, "once you're finished here, move on to the next village, rinse and repeat my friend", Noxa turned 180 degrees and marched back towards Pa, leaving the soldier standing still with a burning torch.
"LIGHT 'ER UP BOYS!", the soldier yelled to the two dozen men raiding the village.
With that, fires riddled the night sky, leaving Randall with a flood of panic racing through him.
A toss of a flaming torch, his shack was ablaze - Randall knew he had a matter of seconds.
If he snuck out now; he would surely be seen by the soldiers outside, if he waited; he would be burned alive.
The next issue was the fact that his legs didn't work, nor could he just get into his wheelchair and roll on out of the shack as it burned down around him.
He knew there was one real option; tear through the thatched walls and crawl once the smoke was thick enough to obscure him from view.
He suppressed the urge to cough, the smoke growing denser with each passing second.
Embers fell onto the bed, threatening to catch the blankets alight.
The smoke grew ever thicker, giving Randall his moment. With haste, he wriggled out from under the bed and crawled towards the back wall with ever-increasing panic.
His throat was growing incredibly raw. Randalls' upper body ached as, huffing heavily, he reached the wall.
Digging into the straw, ferns, and other foliage, with his fingers, he started ripping away.
The flames tore through the walls, well and truly growing closer to Randall.
Sweat poured down his forehead, drenching his matted blonde hair. With a refreshed surge of panic at the sight of the fire growing closer to him, Randall picked up the pace, punching through the walls.
With enough of a gap for him to squeeze through with his shoulders, Randall crawled through the hole, and out of the burning shack.
Two whole years of his life, gone. Everything he owned; his bed, his clothes, and his wheelchair, up in smoke.
There was no time to mourn the loss, though.
Now it was time to haul ass and get as far away from the village as possible.
It was close to ten o'clock at night, the moreporks' out on the trees surrounding the lake sang their nightly call.
Eldore listened to Harreina snoring softly, their naked bodies sharing warmth, the night air passing through the window, chilling Eldore to his bones.
With a great delicacy, Eldore wriggled his arm out from beneath Harreina.
He pulled his clothes on as quietly as he could manage. Once his feet were wrapped tightly, Eldore sauntered across the hardwood floor.
Closing the door as silently as possible, Eldore felt Dr. Shultz climbing the staircase behind him.
"You all good?", Dr. Shultz asked in a whisper.
"I can't do it, Ben", Eldore rubbed his wrinkled forehead frustratedly.
"What'd'ya mean?", Shultz eyed him up and down.
"I need to go, it's too much watching her wither away like this", Eldores voice broke, though he contained it as best he could.
"You're leaving?", Shultz asked with an air of scandal tinging his voice.
"I've done this before, I can't do it again", Eldore confessed, "please, tell her I'm sorry".
"Fuck that for a joke, tell her yourself", Shultz shot him a filthy glance, "I thought you were Big Man Greene, look at you - skulking out like a punk".
Eldore grabbed Ben by the arms and forcibly moved him out the way.
"I am sorry, make sure she knows that", Eldore said as he moved past Ben and down the stairwell.
Shultz watched with annoyance as Eldore jogged down the stairs and out the front door.
Gently opening the bedroom door, Ben took a look at Harreina, still sleeping and none the wiser that her partner had left her alone.
"OI!", Shultz ran up behind Eldore as he was mounting his horse.
"Yeah?", Eldore replied annoyedly, looking down at Ben.
"What are you doing?", Shultz shivered in the cold.
"I'm going to ride for twelve hours, I'm going to eat, and then I'm going to make sure Eions found me a new Second In Comand", Eldore shot back sarcastically.
"Cut the shit", Ben spat to the ground, "she's lying up there, dying. The fucking country is falling apart. Between Sirene withdrawing her support for Harreina and the FPA, and the townsfolk getting antsy - you and I are the only two people she has helping her through this".
"This isn't about her", Eldore rolled his eyes, "I'm making sure my sanity stays intact".
"Eldore! She's fucking dying!".
"You think I don't know that? You think I can forget it?", Eldore slid back off his horse and stood nose-to-nose with Ben.
"Then why would you go?", Ben asked in a harsh whisper.
"Because I can't watch another woman I love wither away like that!", Eldore barked, "I can't! It's fucking killing me - sitting there staring at her - knowing that we had decades we wasted at war. The minute we decide to fucking be together, the world, or God, or whoever, decided to take her!".
Ben shuffled his feet against the dirt ground. Staring at his feet, he had nothing to argue back.
"You're right", he conceded, "and it's not fair - but you'll be exacerbating it by going now".
"Tell her I'm sorry", Eldore repeated, "tell her I love her, and that I'll make sure Rebury stays safe".
Eldore clambered back onto his horse, gave it a tap, and with a swoosh of air, he was gone.
The sound of horse hooves against the hard, grassy, ground reverberated throughout the night air. The odd Morepork gave a hoot, cicadas echoing around the four riders.
"What time do you think it is?", Magnus asked from behind Thatcher.
"Can't be much after midnight", Ruataupare replied, shivering.
She looked naked without her cloak.
Thatcher sniffed loudly, taking in the air. Small flecks of white fell from the sky, barely noticeable unless you paid extra attention to it; which she did.
"You smell it?", Thatcher asked the rest of them.
One-by-one they took a moment to take a whiff.
"Yeah - smokey", Rena noted, "whatever's been causing the black sky - we're getting closer".
"You got anymore theories?", Thatcher tossed her head over her shoulder and asked Rena.
"Wondering if it's a bushfire", Rena chewed her lip.
"Doubt that'd produce enough smoke to dampen the sky. What we're seeing is tremendously larger than that", Magnus chipped in.
"Any ideas?", Ruataupare asked wryly.
"I read this book, a while back, about bushfire seasons, globally. Some of these things burned millions of acres", Magnus informed them with morbid excitement.
"Across the entire continent; what forest exists of that size?", Thatcher asked Magnus.
"Well, that's the fundamental dilemma of the age, isn't it?", Magnus asked back, before continuing, "As we've got no clue what exists in the North, we have no idea what forestry exists. We don't know if it's been cleared, occupied, or burned to the ground".
"So it could be a bushfire?", Ruataupare questioned.
"Could be anything, really. There are satellites in space that could've fallen to the earth. Asteroid impact. Volcano, even", Magnus chattered.
"So; we've so many ideas that we might as well have none?", Ruataupare half chuckled, before her face dropped in disappointment.
"Exactly", Magnus nodded, "kind of exciting, in a way. We're headed into a world of the unknown".
"Does that not scare you?", Thatcher tossed back.
"If it was anything mega dangerous, we'd've seen people migrating south from here", Magnus reasoned with a shrug.
"We've already got enough people migrating north from the South", Ruataupare furrowed her brow.
"We back on that?", Thatcher heaved to her, dryly.
"Aye, I'm just saying; there's no way we could cope with the pressure of refugees from two separate countries", Ruataupare argued back.
"Not with the way you treat the idea, no", Thatcher grumbled.
"Guys, is this the best time?", Magnus asked with chagrin.
"Is there any better time than now?", Thatcher threw out, "We've got a six-hour ride ahead of us and nothing else to discuss".
"We could talk about literally anything else", Rena urged.
"Nah, fuck it, let's get this out in the open", Thatcher chipped back.
"I agree", Ruataupare nodded.
"Alright, so my first question is; what would you've done?", Thatcher asked pointedly.
"Killed the lot of 'em", Ruataupare asked.
"But that ignores the fact that half of them are decent people and the other half are violent arseholes. Secondly; you're ignoring the fact that we've been repressing Cold Country attacks for decades without any change in the situation", Thatcher told her.
"That's without any concentrated effort in wiping the bastards out", Ruataupare rebutted.
"I notice you're ignoring my first point", Thatcher grouched.
"Because it's bullshit. Are some of them good people? Sure. But the majority? No", Ruataupare checked back.
"How would you know that?", Thatcher asked.
Magnus and Rena glanced at each other, both knowing better than to join in.
"How do you?", Ruataupare asked back, "You spent less than a week there, you know nothing about them".
"That may be true. I don't know them, but I know when to back the right horse; hence why, despite everything, I'm still waiting for the air to defrost between us".
Ruataupare didn't know how to respond and so left Thatchers' comment to hang in the air like a bad smell.
*
Agnes awoke in her bed the following morning, Pimly sleeping in a ball in her armpit beneath the blanket.
Blinking a few times, she threw the blanket from off of her body.
Without bothering to change out of her sleeping clothes, Agnes slinked across the floor, left the room, and descended the stairs.
Entering Thatchers' office with Pimly trotting behind her, she stopped just beyond the threshold.
Giving the bookshelf behind the desk an eye over, Agnes crossed the room and started fixing it back into place.
It wobbled dangerously as she tried shifting it back against the wall, but it just wouldn't budge.
She was far too weak, and the shelf far too heavy, for any meaningful shift to be made.
Wolesley knocked on the open door and stepped in - "I saw you slink in here, figured I'd stop in before I shoot out to the Refugee Village".
"Morning", Agnes turned on her heel to face him and greeted.
"You sure I can't help you with that?", Wolesley nodded towards the bookshelf. He crossed the room and sat on the chair in front of the desk.
"It'll be fine, it just annoys me that it's not flush against the wall", Agnes shook her head and sat down, "how you feeling after last nights' chat?".
"I really came to ask you the same thing", Wolesley tossed his arms vaguely.
"I'm obviously not happy about it; but we'd've reached this point, refugees, or not", Agnes sighed. Pimly leaped from the floor to Agnes's lap. Absent-mindedly, Agnes scratched behind the cats' ears.
"I guess, still don't feel good about it", Wolesley swallowed.
"Yeah well, shit happens", Agnes shrugged, "I'll get you to post a few men out at The Pits to intercept anything going in".
"Alright, I'll get onto that by lunch", Wolesley answered.
"We also need someone with a fairly strong stomach to process the bodies for feed", Anges said with a grimace.
"Naturally", Wolesley nodded.
"Alright", Agnes changed the topic, "speaking of the village, have we decided what we're going to do with it once it's no longer being utilized by its current inhabitants?".
"I mean-", Wolesley gestured, "if we cleared from the motorway to Altomontis it would speed up travel between the Citadel to the town by a factor of twenty".
"It's one of the smallest towns in the country, do we really care that much about travel times?", Agnes asked curiously.
"Even if we didn't - we've cleared eighty percent of the path", Wolesley reminded her, "why not finish the job?".
"Alright then, why not?", Agnes pursed her lips, "Beyond that, do we finish tidying the village or leave it as a through town?".
"I mean, that's a good question. The land's useless for farming, most of it is concrete", Wolesley pointed out, "the houses are largely dilapidated, and the green growth is inedible".
Wolesley chewed his lips - "It could be rebuilt, for sure, but to what end?".
"We could use it as a Guards-town? It's fairly central, close to the First and Second Houses, Altomontis, et cetera", Agnes reasoned.
"I mean, it's not a terrible idea... For now, though, I think it's fine as...", he trailed off thinking, "Little Motueka", he half laughed.
Agnes lent a chuckle - "Little Motueka, I like it".
"That's what it is, really", Wolesley wore a tiny smirk.
Agnes felt her smile falter as a realization washed over her - "there are still thousands of people stuck down there".
"I know", Wolesleys own smirk vanished, "but there's nothing we can do for them. We're blocked off".
"We could send men down to liberate the country", Agnes suggested.
"Given what Asper told us yesterday; we're outgunned. We can't contact Harreina or Eldore Green so we're possibly outmanned. For now, the only hope we've got is that any schooners from Motueka are docked here. The best option we've got is to prepare the coastal areas here and get our own soldiers prepared for whatever comes next".
"Right", Agnes nodded, "we've not got the weaponry to arm every available soldier, though".
"The Guardsmen are well-armed", Wolesley furrowed his brow.
"I wasn't talking about them", Agnes corrected, "I meant that we need to recruit any available fighter from Aspers' corps and The Motuekan Red Million".
"Yesterday you wanted to beat Asper to death", Wolesley noted.
"I still do - but it's time to let sleeping dogs lie. We're on the cusp of wiping out an enemy we've had for generations, maybe Thatcher was right, after all, maybe the Settlers are our saviors", Agnes coughed, startling Pimly from her lap.
Wolesley scratched at his weathered cheek - "so how do we arm them?".
"Let's leave that for today. Food is a significantly more pressing issue", Agnes stood.
Wolesley copied her and jumped to his feet.
"I'll see you at dinner", Wolesley farewelled and left the room.
"See you", Agnes watched him leave with a sigh.
Thatchers eyes widened as it came into view over the horizon; a cityscape unlike any she'd ever seen before. With multiple buildings surpassing the eight story mark, the capital of Waikato was a sight to behold.
"Look at it", Magnus said, her face drenched in wonder.
The buildings were constructed shoddily, strongly resembling the border fence that surrounded the country.
Surrounding the city in all directions was a wall of brick and concrete, a maximum of five feet high.
"Doesn't look safe, does it?", Rena half laughed.
"Fuck that, it looks eclectic", Thatcher felt her jaw fall slightly agape, "come on".
Thatcher gave her stallion a gentle nudge in the ribs, urging him forward towards the walled city.
A small gate to the left of them, below a watchtower, opened wide, allowing two men on horseback out of the enclosure.
They rode with swords drawn, aimed at the strangers they were approaching.
"STOP, DROP YOUR WEAPONS!", one with long hair commanded.
Much like the Red Million warriors found in Motueka, tattoos covered both of their faces and torsos.
From where Thatcher sat, it appeared as if there was not an inch of their bodies that was not touched by ink.
All four women did so, pulling weapons from sheaths and dropping them to the grass below.
Beneath the dark sky and from a distance, the men looked menacing, but upon their approach, they both had soft faces. It was clear they intended to defend if need be, however, they otherwise did not appear hostile.
"You speak English?", Thatcher called out to them.
"Indeed!", the wider of the two men responded. His muscles were thick, veins protruded from beneath his skin.
Slowly, the pair of them dropped their weapons.
"Who are you?", his compatriot asked.
"We come from the South, with both favors to offer and favors to ask", Thatcher replied confidently.
"Arihona", the wider man introduced himself coolly, his hair was short, no longer than two inches above his head, "and this is Ratapu".
He pointed to his friend, who by contrast had hair flowing down to his nipples.
"Thatcher, current Head of State of the Country Gossfordshire", she greeted, "on the other horse is Ruataupare, Head of State of the Country Motueka. Behind her is Rena, her Second in Command and Current Leader of The Motuekan Army, the Red Million. Behind me is Magnus, who serves many roles, best summed up as the brains of The Countries United Under The Four Pillars Agreement".
"I have no idea what any of that means", Ratapu laughed.
"To be fair, neither do we most of the time", Thatcher slid from her horses' back and shook the hands of both men.
"So, what can we do for you ladies?", Ratapu asked.