Jacinta Nia-Sauda awoke to a world of fire. The estate was on fire. The estate was on fire! Zaahina. She needed to find Zaahina! Where was her sister?

“Zaahina,” she yelled, and immediately regretted it. The smoke burned at her throat. She needed to get to the ground, she remembered. She needed to find Zaahina.

She crawled to the door. She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep. Wouldn’t that be so nice? Just to lie down and sleep. Zaahina! She remembered. She needed to. She just needed to find-

The door opened. Zaahina had opened it. “Jacinta, we need to leave. They’re already-”

Zaahina was cut off by the sound of artillery. Jacinta had grown to recognize that sound. But never so close. Zaahina grabbed her arm. Zaahina grabbed her arm and she was moving and she was being carried. They were in the hallway now.

“Zaahina, we need to get momma. Where is momma!” Zaahina looked at her and she looked at Zaahina and Zaahina was crying and she was crying and-

That was artillery. Again, the artillery. “Damn the Oshaxi, Damn them!” Where was momma?

And they passed by the altar and the altar was burning. And she was crying. And now they were outside and she could breathe, she could breathe again and-

“Where is momma?”

A look of grief was plastered on Zaahina’s face. She didn’t need to say anything for Jacinta to know.

“She-” Zaahina began.

Artillery again. “We need to leave now. The stables are still standing”

“What about the servants? The servants Zaahina!” Zaahina looked down.

“It was too late for them too.”

Artillery again. “We can’t die here!”

And Jacinta followed Zaahina as she ran to the stables and she followed Zaahina as they rode away from the estate, the estate that she had just been sleeping in and living in the day before with momma and the servants and the estate where the altar was burning.

Dawn was about to break. They had been riding for maybe an hour. Jacinta had stopped crying. Now all she felt was anger. All she could do was rage at the evil of the Oshaxi. At the unfairness of it all. “Sauda preserve my mother and Sauda avenge her. Sauda preserve Danica and Sauda avenge her. Sauda preserve Siora and Sauda avenge her. Sauda preserve Jolan and Sauda avenge him.”

The list was too long.

She still had the necklace momma had given her as a child. A necklace of silver ending in a wood pendant of Sauda, her namesake. It had always comforted her. She grasped her pendant with one hand and traced its shape. “Divines preserve my mother and Divines avenge her.”

Zaahina had stopped. She came to a stop behind her. “We can’t just keep riding aimlessly. We need a plan.” She paused.

“The Oshaxi should never have been able to reach us here. This wasn’t just another skirmish.” She paused again. “We need to get away from the border.”

“And where is the border? We’ve been riding in the dark. We’re lucky we haven’t-”

Artillery again. “We need to head away from the artillery,” said Zaahina.

And so they did. They rode until they hit a small village. The windows were all shuttered. They walked up to a door and knocked.

There was a rifle in her face. “Put your hands up!” She slowly raised her hands and calmed her voice. “We’re Achani. We’re hiding from them too.”

The rifle lowered. She was looking at a middle aged man, of maybe 40 summers. His face was rough. The war had been hard on everyone. He was examining them. She wondered what he saw. Two girls running from the Oshaxi devils, surely that couldn't be a threat!

“Come in,” he settled on. “We don’t have a place for your horses but you can tie them to the fence.”

“Fatima preserve you,” she answered. “Fatima preserve you and your family.”

They tied the horses to the fence and entered the house. It was a small house of two rooms. In the back was his family, his wife and two children. “They were running from the Oshaxi.” That was all he said.

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She saw fear on the face of his wife, fear for her children. There was nothing she could say to comfort her. She began to pray.

“Fatima preserve this family. We hold you in our hearts. Sauda protect this family. Sauda preserve my mother and Sauda avenge her. We hold you in our hearts.”

The mother was praying too. “There is One God and we praise his Holy Name. There is One God and..” She continued praying.

Jacinta looked up in surprise. A Xocist in Acha? She must have migrated from the Principalities, though Jacinta could think of no good reason to do so. She was surely not Brueji. Maybe she was one of the Xocist minority in Usmar? There was a small altar in the house so the husband must be a follower of the True Faith.

It was not her business.

She looked to find Zaahina huddled on the floor. She went to hug her, and they sat there for a while, holding each other.

The time stretched out. It was lunchtime.

The man was kind enough to feed them. Fatima preserve him! They ate with his family. In silence.

“Where do you come from?” His daughter was the one to break the ice. She exchanged a glance with Zaahina. “We came from a house in the countryside near Khadon. But we were born in Shens.” Shens was the capital.

“What is it like in Shens?” She began to answer. “And why are you so dirty?” asked the son. He was young. “Sister and momma’s clothes aren’t like that.” She looked down at her clothes. They were covered in dirt and ash.

“Hush Janos,” said the father, injecting a sternness into his voice. “Be polite to our guests.”

They ate in silence for a while longer. He had made a broth from vegetables with bread to dip.

“The Army will be here soon in full force,” the man said. He said it with a conviction in his voice that brooked no disagreement. “You can stay here until then.” Fatima preserve this man! When she was returned to her wealth she would make sure he no longer had to live in this tiny house of two rooms with his family.

“We are Jacinta and Zaahina,” said her sister. They had forgotten to introduce themselves. It was her privilege as the oldest of the household. Now that momma- it was best not to dwell on it. “I am Otello and this is my wife Amal. My son is Janos and my daughter is Mihaela.”

“Well met,” responded Zaahina. Jacinta thought to herself that Amal sounded quite like a Wuspale name.

They spent the rest of the day distracting his children with child games while artillery thundered in the background. She prayed again. They ate dinner. Otello stood guard with his rifle.

She and Zaahina slept on the floor, and she awoke to her sister shaking her.

“The Army, they’re here. We’re safe now Jacinta! We’re safe.” Jacinta felt too numb to respond with anything but a nod. “Thank Bolanle for his mercy,” said Zaahina. “We hold him in our hearts.”

“We hold in our hearts our gratitude for his gifts to us,” Jacinta finished the prayer. It was an automatic response, almost instinctual.

“We need to get to Shens. Auntie will know what to do. I’ve already spoken with Otello, he knows that we plan to leave soon,” said Zaahina. “He said that the Army has set up nearby in Cipolis. He spoke with a soldier. The Army is directing refugees there.” Jacinta had never heard of Cipolis.

Seeing the confusion on her face, Zaahina clarified. “It is a small town near this village, barely an hour away. The horses ran away during the night. The artillery must have spooked them. We will have to walk.” She paused.

“I told Otello that if he finds them again he is free to sell them, or keep them, or do whatever he wants with them. It's the least we can do to repay him.” Jacinta couldn’t disagree.

They said goodbye to the children. Jacinta had grown to like them. And before they left, Amal gave them both vegetable wraps for the road. Fatima preserve her! This family was more generous with the little they had than any noble.

“Ljubvo smile upon your family,” Jacinta said, out of habit. A second later, she remembered that Amal was a Xocist.

Amal didn't seem to mind. “Follow the river until you hit the road. That road will lead you to Cipolis. Xoci be with you on your travels.”

They followed the river until they hit the road. There they joined with a crowd of other refugees headed towards Cipolis. Yes, refugees, Jacinta supposed. That was what they were now. No one felt like talking.

As they walked, the group passed by some patrolling soldiers. That had to be a good sign. The Army must be winning if they could afford the manpower to start up regular patrols! The soldiers stopped to talk with the refugees heading the march. Their guns gleamed in the sun. “You will reach Cipolis soon,” said one. That was all they said.

They kept walking.

They reached Cipolis when the sun was not yet fully risen in the sky.