The night was warm. Clouds, low on the horizon, blue black in the last light of the setting sun. Nothing but the breeze and the buzz of the cicadas breaking the stillness. A perfect evening. But then the shout came. A light up the road, drawing nearer. Hoofbeats on the hard packed earthen road that led up to the house. Lorry.

Ma came out of the house, pausing at the top step. One hand on the porch post. Lorry swung down off his mare, smacking the dust from his chaps. Handed the reins and the lantern off to Slow Pete.

“What news?” Ma asked. Lorry came up the porch, face flushed. “Reports are comin’ in from all over. Word is Alliance launched an attack on Ezra.”

”Shénshèng de gǒu shǐ!” Mal swore, standing. “Malcolm. Watch that tongue,” his Ma chastised absently; he may be coming on twenty, but he was yet her son. “But Ma! You know what this means…” he protested. She shook her head. Once. Sharp. Silencing him.

“Is it true? Has it finally started?” she asked Lorry. Lorry nodded. Grim. “Looks like.” Ma stepped back. Sat in the porch chair heavily. “Then it’s war,” she said. Eyes dark. Worried.

“It’s war,” Lorry agreed. “The wait is over.”

~~~~~

“The wait is over, boys!”