The old alchemist sat down across from her and smoothed out his jacket. “You've been with us 11 years now, correct?”

“Here and there.”

“Mostly here.” Pendleson told her. “We won't mention those odd years to your father.” He said with a wink. She didn't return the wink or discourage it, staring off at distant flowers with a pain in her chest.

“I wanted to talk to Miss Pickett.” Harriet moaned. She didn't give Pendleson the opportunity for eye contact, but Pendleson continued after clearing his throat.

“Before those 11 years Harriet, we had peace. Don't you want peace back?”

“Stop it.” She hissed venomously, turning her head farther away to the lattice arches near the putting range.

“I'm worried that you've become too attached to the other side, Harriet. Dangerous—considering what you are.”

“Stop it.”

“I need to know what you love, Harriet.” His face sagged on the edges like loose frosting, but where his eyes stood was that uncomfortable, steady gaze.

Harriet looked up at Pendleson, hate behind her own. He wasn't at all afraid of her. No one was, although she had tried so hard to build up her name with fear. Instead they treated her even younger.

“Ever since...”

“You have to forgive Peck to get over him. You and he were just a teenage fling.”

“Stop it!” Harriet stood up and put her arms in her jacket with all of her fury. “You always have to analyze me. You always have to put some name on me. I'm tired of being all of your names!”

“Harriet. You live only in a time of war. You were born with war and war will die with you when you leave us.” Pendleson bellowed clearly and forcefully.

Harriet didn't know how to respond to that. She had read it once on a card, but never had she heard it out loud. It took Harriet a few moments to recover, she checked her tears and masked her voice.

“Tell Miss Pickett that I hope she's here next time. I would like to talk to her instead.”

“Harriet. You are The Destroyer. The Great Scylla was your card.”

“No.” She said seriously. “I'm no one.” Harriet kicked over a few squirrels and they rolled on their backs and stared blankly at the sky.

“You can end this war.” Pendleson said. “End this war, Harriet. You know how.”

If Harriet noticed anything about her short life, she had learned that she was absolutely incapable of ending anything: She left without a word behind her. Despite what they thought, Harriet was tired of fighting. She picked up her legs and ran even though no one was bothering to chase her. The next day she would have to go back. The next day and every day.