With the decision made, Winters put into action his men. "Clear it all up! Let's pack it in!" Winters yelled as he thrashed a bell repeatedly.

Throughout the camp, the tense peace which prevailed before came to a stop. Men roused themselves, their commanders look of surprise urging on their whirlwind of activity. Dozens of people whisked their tents and blankets back into their packs and doused their firepits. Their speed impressed Zan who saw the whole camp ready to move out hardly ten fifteen minutes after he left Winters's command tent.

"How far is the trade route?" Zan asked.

"Half-a-day's ride," Whiskey said, slightly frazzled by the meeting.

Zan had started to unfurl his bike when Winters interjected. "No! I'm sorry, Zan. Your bike is impressively fast, but we can't have anyone falling behind, dragging the entire unit down. Ride with one of my men or Whiskey, please."

Stopping mid-furl, Zan slowly put his bike parts back in the folded position. Then he placed the bike back on his back. Zan looked at Whiskey with a facial expression. Whiskey rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. Get on my saddle."

"Where is Jiehong?" Zan asked once he got on the back of Whiskey's horse.

"He is with the wounded near the middle of the host. He is fine. He has energy but loses it quickly. If he's smart, Jiehong will be resting."

"Okay. Good. I just wanted to make sure he was okay," Zan said.

Whiskey willed her steed forward and it took off with much gusto. While it rode, Zan felt raindrops fall on his head.

"Are you really okay with this plan?" Zan asked at a point in the ride. "I mean. Soon you won't even be a rebel anymore. So, what is it to you if the rebels get a bad rap on the king's behalf?"

"You forget, Zan, I am not yet in your Order. I could still back out. Regardless of that, though, even if I do go ahead with it and enlist in your martial order, that doesn't mean I want my former friends and family harmed by my actions. Whether I am with them or not, I want them to succeed!" Whiskey replied, her voice risen to compete with the stampede around them as dozens of horses, voices, and equine sounds blared into nature.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"I never thought of it like that! I live in the moment!" Zan replied.

"Of course you live in the moment!" Whiskey shouted back. "You're a man of action, Zan! People like us, who want to change the world, we don't settle. We can't afford to be passive and accumulate resources like a blacksmith's hammer. We have to be bold and snatch what we want!"

"I never met someone who thinks like you!" Zan replied, his voice becoming sore from all the yell-talking.

Whiskey made a noise. She simply shouted back, "Village life for ya!"

Zan had always considered himself happy. Or at least content in life. This, despite his orphaning. How Whiskey talked, though, about village life and insinuating its limitations, caused a swell in Zan's emotional heart. Jiehong had been a friend to him for his whole life. But he and he were two very different people. Was Zan lonely? He didn't know if he was, but he knew he wouldn't mind more people being in his life. People, specifically, of a different mindset than Jiehong. Or came from... a different family.

Whiskey broke Zan from his contemplation. She said, "Who was that other guy? The one you were fighting?"

"The guy in the mask?" Zan shouted back, to confirm, not as though Whiskey could have meant anyone else.

"Yeah. He packed a feckin' punch!" Whiskey said.

"He did! Said his name was 'Mentality.' I've never seen anyone with his power before!" Zan shouted.

"Me either! He must come from an extremely wealthy family. Only the richest aristocrats have the money to raise a mutant!"

Confusion! Mutants? Had Zan heard of mutants before? Was that what a mutant was? People like Mentality? What did that even mean?

"A mutant?" Zan asked, taking the plunge.

"Someone with genetics tainted by eldritch energy. Poor bastards!"

"Is that bad? Why?!" Zan yelled, eager to know.

"WELL! I wouldn't say 'bad' but not a selling point, either! Mutants cause trouble. We can talk about this later, Zan! Too much ambiguity to leave to the thrills of wind while we all are run ragged!"

"Okay!" Zan said, understanding Whiskey's desire to not talk about a complicated situation while their lives were dependent on Whiskey remaining focused riding.

"I think he is a teenager!" Zan said suddenly.

"Mentality? Why?" Whiskey said, the conversation simply darting back to their original point.

"His height? The way he acted. His voice. I got the impression he is no older than you or I."

"I don't understand why a kid would want to go to war -- willingly!"

"Me either! What does he get out of it?" Zan replied.

Obviously, neither he nor Whiskey knew why a young person would intentionally throw themselves in harm's way. For pride of house? Personal honor?