Sage
“It’s only fair that I get to tease you back for once,” Mara says, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. “After all the times you’ve made me laugh about this camp’s crazy rules.”
I laugh, shaking my head. It’s been a relief, letting myself get closer to Mara these last few days. I’d kept her at a distance, trying to stay professional, reminding myself not to get too involved. But, honestly? I need a friend—a girlfriend who can laugh at all of this with me. And Mara, well, the second I started letting my guard down, she was right there, effortlessly sliding into this friendship like it had been waiting for both of us.
“You’d think Branson’s safety briefings were comedy routines the way we crack up over them,” I say. “But hey, I’ll have you know my laundry-wringing form is impeccable.”
Mara raises an eyebrow, chuckling. “Oh, really? And I suppose that’s why half the clothes you wash are still half-wet by sundown?”
We both laugh, her laughter light and easy as she dunks another shirt into the cold stream water, the sunlight filtering through the trees and catching in the ripples. The stream runs clear, and the sound of it mingles with our laughter, softening the usual hum of camp activity behind us.
As we keep scrubbing and chatting, Mara glances over, her eyes dancing with amusement. “If only my mother could see me now,” she says with a grin. “She always wanted me to have a quiet life, somewhere cozy and ‘respectable’—you know, exactly the opposite of living in a camp doing laundry in a stream while keeping one eye out for trouble.”
I laugh, dipping a shirt into the water and watching the ripples dance away. “I think you’re doing a fantastic job of proving you don’t need ‘respectable’ to be fulfilled,” I say, shooting her a wink. “And besides, who needs respectability when you’ve got an audience of squirrels and that one rabbit that always shows up?”
We both laugh again, letting ourselves fall into the easy rhythm that’s somehow formed between us. For a few minutes, we chat about little things—camp gossip, memories from before the world turned upside down, funny moments from camp. It’s not the kind of conversation I ever let myself imagine I’d have in a place like this, but I realize how much I need it.
Just as I’m about to joke about our “wild life” here in the woods, I catch sight of Branson coming down the trail, his usual serious expression softened with something like determination, and I know he’s made his decision.
Mara notices, too, and straightens, her brows lifting slightly. “Uh-oh,” she whispers, trying to stifle a laugh. “Think he’s here to confiscate our laughter for the good of camp morale?”
I smile, unable to laugh, knowing what’s coming and hoping she won’t be upset.
Branson strides over, his usual somber expression in place, but today there’s a tension in his eyes, a weight I recognize from our earlier conversation. He stops just a few feet away, looking from Mara to me, his mouth set in a tight line. The lightheartedness from moments before fades, and Mara and I exchange a quick glance.
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“Mara. Sage.” Branson’s voice is steady but low, his usual calm edged with urgency.
“Branson,” Mara says, her brow furrowing. “Is everything okay?”
He glances around, then steps closer, his voice dropping to barely above a murmur. “It’s about the Sovereign Accord. After the way Reeves was last time…” He pauses, gathering his words. “I should have addressed this the day Sage and Dash married, but with you so recently widowed, I figured you’d be safe for a while longer.” He lets out a breath, meeting Mara’s eyes directly. “That was my mistake.”
I feel my stomach tighten as he speaks, his words confirming the worry I’d been carrying. I’d hoped Reeves wouldn’t press the issue so soon after Mara’s loss, but clearly, we were both wrong. Mara’s gaze shifts to me for a moment, a mix of curiosity and concern there, but I nod encouragingly, urging her to listen.
Branson continues, his tone careful. “Sage and I discussed it this morning, and given what we know about Reeves’ approach to women in camp, I believe it’s essential you have someone to protect your position here—soon. As in today.”
I wince at Branson pointing out my involvement in this, even though I would’ve told her after he left.
I see Mara processing this, the urgency in his words settling over her as she pieces together what he’s offering. He meets her gaze, steady and unwavering. “If you’re willing, Mara… I’d like to be that person. We’ll make it official before nightfall. It will protect both you and your daughter from Reeves or anyone like him. You two will join me in my tent. This doesn’t have to be anything beyond that—just a safeguard. I know you lost Jeff only a month ago.”
Mara’s eyes widen, taking in his words, and a flicker of understanding crosses her face. There’s surprise, of course, but I see something else there too—a sense of resolve forming. It’s a look that all of us have had to take on again and again over the last two years as new hits keep coming.
After a moment, she straightens, her voice soft but sure. “Alright. If this is what’s needed to keep us safe… then yes. Thank you, Branson.”
Relief briefly flashes across his face, and he nods, the weight of his decision easing as he glances at both of us. “I’ll take care of everything. It’ll be finalized tonight.”
With a final nod, Branson turns and heads back toward camp, already focused on the steps to make it happen. Mara and I watch him go, and as he disappears down the trail, she turns to me, her face a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
“Did that really just happen?” she whispers, a bit breathless. I can see the wild look in her eyes, realizing all the implications for what she’d just agreed to.
“Oh, it happened,” I say, my own surprise easing into a grin. “Looks like you and I are part of a club that neither of us planned on joining.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” she says sarcastically, though I can tell she’s not upset.
I wince. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bring it up to you in case he didn’t decide to offer.”
“Wanna be my bridesmaid?” Mara asks, barely stifling a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. This was not a happy situation, but what other option did we have than to laugh?
We’re living in a world that neither of us could have ever imagined. In many ways, it feels like we’re living in those terrible books we used to read when life was still normal. The ones where women lost their rights and became property again. We’re lucky, though, to have found a space with men who still respect women’s autonomy and do their best to create safety in whatever ways they can.
At least Mara has a few hours to adjust to the idea. When it came to Dash and me, I had barely fifteen minutes to process the decision. The day we married, we’d just received word that Sovereign Accord scouts were close, and though it turned out to be a false alarm, the urgency made it feel like a choice stripped from me. I can still remember the rush of fear and the sense of danger that hung over us, and the rushed vows that felt as much a survival measure as anything else. It all seems unnecessarily dramatic now, but it’s a reminder of how tense that night was. Knowing Reeves is returning in a day or so allows Mara and Branson a small measure of breathing room—something I wish I’d had.