Page 16 of The Last War We Ever Fought

His eyes softened, and she hated the comfort that gave her. “To feel so deeply is something only a human heart can do. Whether it be suffering, hate, desire, anger. Humanity all feels it intensely. Humans don’t only suffer. They cannot. Not when they can feel so much more than any creature ever can.”

He reached to pick a berry from her hand, but she slapped it away, covering her palm full of berries with her other hand. “Rowan’s berries,” he said, lifting his hands up. “I got it.”

Rowan pointed a finger all around. “All are. Never eat them.”

“Never?”

“Promise me,” she found herself saying.

“Promise?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying her intently. “Fine. I promise.”

“Why do you look at me like that? Like I hold some secret key to some secret realm.”

“You’re fascinating.”

She scoffed. Rowan was nothing but scars and smoke and made of memories no one wanted. She wasn’t fascinating. Her mere insignificant existence had become wanted only when it served to harm. If she were to die tomorrow, no one would have accounted for her death as any loss. Perhaps as victory.

“Because I don’t like you?”

His lip twitched. “Like? I thought it was something along the lines of hate.”

“I don’t waste that much energy to hate something or someone. It is pointless. Hating you is absolutely pointless.” She secured the berries in her pockets and pointed to the bushes again. “Don’t touch any of them.”

He raised a brow. “I gave you my promise.”

She nodded. Not that his promises meant much anyway.

Five poppies

Murmurs filled the dining grounds that stretched into thin wooden tables lined parallel to one another. The seats were so compacted to one another that the whole burble felt like one body of a voice.

From where he had sat, he could clearly see every raised head and pair of eyes in her direction while her own head was lowered over her food plate and her eyes were in half mast, begging for sleep and wondrous.

Last night, her lantern had remained lit inside her tent until dawn had set in and he could see the silhouette of her shadow through the wall of fabric, sitting at the edge of her mattress, unmoving. Sleep had not been kind to her. Considering how she was, maybe she had not been kind to sleep. The thought almost made him laugh.

Elijah wondered what she had thought of all so deeply all night long. He’d wondered if she’d also thought of what they’d talked about. He was envious of her thoughts. For being inside what nothing else could get inside off—her mind.

The fog over her tired soul snapped when someone stepped in front of her table.

The general, Adam, stood over her, a furious look in his eyes—one that prompted Elijah to abandon his spot under a tree shadow where he usually watched her from, to get near her. “Tell me, Rowan, why did I find three of my soldiers laying in…graves?”

She gave her peer a bored look. Perhaps just a tired one. “Well, the chances would be that they are dead. Since they are laying in graves.”

“You killed them?” Adam hissed, lowering his voice as he threw uncomfortable glances at the rest of the soldiers who reluctantly returned to pretending they weren’t paying attention at them.

“Why would you think so?”

“There were webcap mushrooms on their plates, Rowan. Webcaps!” he hissed. “The cook said you took the food trays to their tents.”

“So? I did not feed them their food, Adam. They ate it with their own hands.”

The older general shook his head. “You cannot do this.” He leaned in closer to her, cautious so he wouldn’t be heard by the rest of the soldiers. “It is not the time to do this, Rowan. You should have just reported whatever they did to me.”

“I’m not sure what you wanted me to report to you,” she said with feigned disinterest, dusting her hands and leaning back on her chair.

“You heard her,” Elijah found himself saying, and meddling in human matters. He took a seat at the table, not far from her. “It was an unfortunate mistake. You’ll not lose your war because you lost three soldiers, General.”

Adam seemed astounded at his interference. Probably because so far, Elijah had not said a word to anyone else beside her and her young friend. The general glanced fast between her and him, and stuttered, “I-it is a matter of respect and o-obedience.”