December 1

It was a long and dark December.

On the rooftops, I remember, there was snow.

They said the Revolution was coming; the Revolution we had hoped and yearned would come. But they said it would not be the Revolution we had hoped and yearned would come.

It would be a different kind of revolution.

We were not sure what to expect.

Blood, we were sure of.

This December would not be a peaceful one.

“I thought you said you would be back before dark.”

“I told you, I had to deliver something to Mr Fischer,” I lied quietly, trying not to wake my baby sister as I sat down on the wood to take off my boots. They were laced with ice.

My mother was also quiet for a moment as she looked at me, folding her arms.

“Don’t you believe me?” I challenged, now meeting her gaze.

My mother’s eyes always fascinated me. How they could change colour in every different light, go from silver to amber in a flash. Now they were her worried eyes, a deep chocolate brown. I knew she wasn’t really angry, but I suddenly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said sincerely.

She shook her head and turned her back on me, returning to her washing. But I could see her eyes had cleared a little, so I was pleased.

“Make sure you shake them, they looked soaked,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at my boots, leaking shadow onto the dry wood.

I said nothing but the corners of my lips were tugged into a small smile. My mother could do nothing except be my mother. It comforted me.

Picking up my shoes and walking to the door, I passed my sister’s cot. She was curled in her blanket, safe and warm. I envied her for a moment. My father had named her Abigail before he left, and I thought the name suited her; she was a gentle baby, not a screaming, distressed child like the Morberrys had.

Once I opened the door, the howling wind struck and whipped through the house, making the log fire hiss in anguish.

“Oh hush,” I muttered irritably to the gale. Sometimes I really despised winter; it could be so harsh on those who had done nothing. My little sister turned in her cot and sniffed.

I clanked my military issue boots together and the webbed ice cracked off in shards, falling to the cold ground outside our doorstep.

“Has Mr Fischer sorted out his claims yet?” my mother called to me. I could barely hear her voice through the wind so I hurriedly shut the door, putting my boots in the corner, formulating an answer. I decided simple was best.

“I didn’t ask him, he seemed busy.”

“Okay.” She ladled out thick vegetable soup into a bowl. I had not noticed the smell before, but now a wonderful aroma of pumpkin and parsnip filled my senses and I was suddenly very glad I was home.

As I sipped at my soup cautiously and the steam occupied my vision, I thought about where I had actually been.

Buckley had intercepted me on my way back from the farmhouse and had almost knocked me over in his eagerness. He was younger than me by a few years, and we all knew he was awed by me because I’d done service. It had taken a bit of getting used to, his astonished stares at my trench coats, boots and hand guns. But he was a good kid, and I was beginning to like his enthusiasm within our group.

“My father got a telegram,” he had spurted breathlessly, not even bothering to greet me. His green eyes shone like moons in the twilight. It must be important.

“What did it say?” I replied sharply.

“They’re coming back.”

The air was suddenly heavy.

“Blake was talking to the merchants, and they said they’d seen them through the Pass, only a week away from here, and-“

“The Guard?” I breathed with dread, cutting Buckley off.

He nodded.

We were silent for a moment, Buckley looking at me with anticipation. But I could see the same feeling of trepidation in his face.

“Then we need a meeting tomorrow. Go and tell Kobel and Davies and I’ll tell Lorelie,” I swallowed. “Usual place, usual time.”

Buckley nodded again, then hesitated. “Leventri?”

“Mm?” I met his gaze.

“Did anything like this ever happen in Russia?”

I thought for a moment on how to reply.

“Yes. But it was in October, and it had been a Revolution for the people. This will be war.”