The soldiers are marching again, with the heavy sound of drums quick to follow.
Everyone in the town who knows what is coming stays silent and tries to hide, praying that they won't stop here, in Woodson.
And it's every week now that they pick a new...
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The weather becomes warmer and humid as our group approaches the sea.
In Nation, the western country, the air is usually dry and temperate, so our garments are heavier. But here near the Southeast - where the ocean keeps the air thick - I'm sweating in my tattered dress already, and it's no wonder that all the boys have taken off their shirts by now.
Andres, Camillo, and Kade are only donning their cargo pants and military boots as we walk along the path towards our destination, wherever that is. It's been years of war, I realize suddenly, as the three boys enter a discussion about something that doesn't interest me. It's been years since my mother died, since the war even started. When will it all end?
Families like Andres and I's have struggled for almost a decade, scavenging for food and wasting half a day in front of a water well because it will be the only supply you'll get for an entire week. Boys like Camillo and Kade and Andres not returning home, ever.
Does Camillo prefer being on the front lines than in Addison, slaving away at a farm he has to take care of everyday? Through years of fighting the abuse from his father, I imagine this doesn't bother him as much as it bothers Andres and me. My chest constricts at the thought.
In my head, there's a seven year old with curly brown hair and a white t-shirt on that is covered in dirt, or in blood.
Is that why his nose has a slight curve near the top? I look at him now - taller than all of us, stronger. He seems so serious all the time, his mouth in a hard line, analyzing the scenery. I bet he is so smart, too, but never had a chance to go to school full time like I did.
Knowing his backstory now, things become clearer to me. We are too similar to the point that it is strange we even get along so well. Both our parents left us to fend for ourselves against the world, and we have no education but the lessons we've learned ourselves.
What did Camillo learn by himself in Addison that has made him into the man he is today?
Where my father's lack of temper made me angry sometimes, Camillo's scared him into being quiet.
Polar opposites, yet the same.
It's funny how fighting works.
Now I have something else to fight for.
I sigh, telling myself that I shouldn't be getting lost in my own imagination. There are so many things to worry about besides avoiding how I feel about Camillo, and I shouldn't be lingering on it.
We are risking crossing the border of enemy territory, just for the sake of delivering the note in my pocket. However, if I am right about what it holds... this can give us a start to ending the war.
