Late Summer 2271

“I know we got to joke around and have a good time so far this morning.” I felt the shift in mood, but I don’t know what to expect. “I got a letter from Samara.” Brennen leans in to the table and sighs. “I wish I could give you guys more time. I know it hasn’t been that long since you got back.”

My stomach knots. “Is it the new Community we found?” I sigh. The word found feels wrong—like we stumbled into a nightmare no one should’ve had to survive. I don’t want to go back there, not yet, but I need the answer.

“No. Well… we aren’t completely sure.” Brennen stands upright and pulls folded papers from his pocket. “This letter—it’s urgent. Samara found a reservation that needs help.” He sits back down and closes his eyes, letting out a long breath.

We all lean in as he unfolds the letter. He looks more tired now, like he hasn’t slept much. We were bright-eyed and loose moments ago. It’s amazing how quickly things can change.

“Let me start over.” He opens his eyes again. “I got word late last night. From Samara.”

There’s weight on the name. I’ve heard it before—when Brennen would tell me bits and pieces while I worked beside him at the Barter Bench.

I don’t know her. Not personally. I know of her.

The runner.

The scout who moves between ridges like wind.

The one Brennen trusts when things turn complicated.

“What kind of word?” Mama asks.

“Mountain reservation. North ridge line. They’re under pressure.”

Brennen spreads a map across the table. Mama shifts beside him, arms crossed, face unreadable but sharp with focus. He taps a spot high in the mountains.

“Right about here,” he says. “Not far, not like the last run. But brutal terrain. Rogue faction’s pushing in. They’ve already lost most of their fighters.”

“Rogues?” Micah asks.

Brennen nods once. “Organized. Not scavengers. Coordinated.”

My pulse tightens.

Jasper leans over my shoulder. “How bad?”

Brennen unfolds a second map — smaller, more detailed. Not ours.

“This is hers.”

The lines are sharp. Efficient. Notes in tight handwriting along the margins. Supply routes. Elevation marks. Possible choke points.

He smooths out the folded letter beside it.

“I think you should hear it the way she wrote it.”

The room stills.

He begins.

“Brennen,

The mountain reservation is collapsing. Not from lack of heart — from lack of structure. They were farmers before this. Builders. Not soldiers. The rogues know that. They’re not charging. They’re tightening.”

Micah’s jaw hardens.

Brennen continues.

“Three main access paths. Two are exposed. The eastern ridge will fall first if nothing changes. If that happens, they won’t need to fire a shot. They’ll starve them out before long.”

The air feels thinner already.

“This isn’t random. These rogues move with supply timing. Someone is feeding them information. I don’t believe in coincidence. You taught me better.”

Mama’s eyes flick to Brennen.

He doesn’t react.

“If this reservation falls, the northern mountains open. And if the mountains open, that new Community you mentioned won’t stay isolated long.”

My stomach twists.

“Don’t send bodies. Send minds. They need training, patrol structure, defensive mapping. They need someone who understands winter movement and choke points.”

The paper shifts in his hand.

“I’ll hold position as long as I can. But they won’t survive the season without reinforcement.”

— Sam.”

Silence.

Not shocked.

Measured.

“She’s been embedded there for weeks,” Brennen says quietly. “Trying to help them fortify. Mapping escape lines.”

Mama’s jaw tightens. “And?”

“And they’re losing.”

The word lands heavy.

“Most of their fighters are gone,” Brennen says. “What’s left are elders. A few trained. Mostly untested.”

I think of the children in the last Community we found. The ones who survived.

“How long until the rogues take it?” I ask.

“I doubt it’s long,” Micah answers.

The room feels smaller.

“What’s the play?” Jasper asks.

Brennen meets my eyes.

“We get them out. Take back their reservation if possible. If not, we help them relocate. Rebuild somewhere defensible.”

No hesitation.

“How many?” Mama asks.

“Small unit. Fast. Terrain doesn’t allow for heavy movement.”

My stomach already knows.

He doesn’t have to say it.

“You’re sending us,” I say.

Brennen nods once.

“You leave in two days.”

No buildup. No comfort.

Just fact.

“How far?” I ask.

“Five days minimum. Higher than you’ve trained for.”

Mama crosses her arms. “Storms roll in fast. Snow pockets in the passes. Snow melt is dangerous.”

“Rogues move during weather shifts,” Micah adds. “They’ll wait for you to be cold and tired.”

Brennen fills in between with terrain info, rogue strategies, and avalanche signs. I write it all down. This time, the notes aren’t just study—they’re survival.

Then I glance up, heart already made up. “Micah comes with us.”

They all look at me.

“What? I’ve thought it through. He’s the better pick for tracking rogues. If we can pick them off early, we might avoid a full-scale fight.”

Jasper exhales slowly.

Brennen nods. “Micah, Mama, Jo and Jasper.”

I feel the mountain already — thin air in my lungs.

“Is this connected to the new Community?” I ask again.

Brennen hesitates. “Sam thinks it might be. The rogues could be getting supplies and recruits from them.” There it is. “She doesn’t believe in coincidence.”

I don’t know why that sticks with me.

Don’t send bodies. Send minds.

I swallow.

“As soon as you said people were dying,” I say steadily, “I was already in.”

Jasper nods beside me.

Mama doesn’t smile, but her eyes soften.

“Good,” she says. “Because this one isn’t a strike.”

“It’s a hold,” Micah finishes.

A long one.

The Borough feels suddenly fragile behind me.

“We move at dawn in two days,” Brennen says. “Gear check starts tonight.”

“Crash course will start tonight. At The Hold.” Aiden looks at each of us.

Brennen taps the mountain on the map. “This isn’t just another mission. If we fail…” No one needs to say a thing. We all know what it means.

This isn’t just another mission.

We all know that.

This is slow war.

And we’re walking into the cold.