Chapter 41
The cold meal tasted like nothing. Barb forced a second bite down, while the wood stove burned low beside them.
The heat helped, but only in the circle of space closest to the flames.
Beyond that, the house felt brittle with the cold snap that had settled overnight.
She watched Cathy’s hands curl around her cup, steam rising in thin ribbons that vanished before reaching the ceiling.
Outside, the wind brushed against the siding in long, uneven breaths.
The puppies lay at the foot of the stove, half asleep but alert enough that their ears twitched with every sound.
The kittens slept bundled in a woven basket stuffed with rags.
The day had drained both sisters: sabotaged fences, bent boards, frightened animals, and a yard reshaped into corridors they could control.
“We should rotate the watch tonight,” Cathy said quietly. “You took most of the hours last night.”
“You need sleep,” Barb said.
“So do you.”
“I will be fine.”
Cathy set her fork down. “You say that every night.”
Before Barb could answer, the animals reacted. Every head lifted at once. The puppies jumped to their feet, barking sharply and frantically. The kittens shot upright, ears flat. The goats outside bleated suddenly, a collective shout that carried across the yard.
Barb was already moving. Her fork hit the plate with a soft clatter. She crossed the room in four fast steps and grabbed her rifle from beside the door. Cathy moved in the opposite direction, positioning herself at an angle that gave her a clear view of the windows. Barb cracked the door an inch.
Wind slid inside with the cold, but another sound followed.
Footsteps staggered across the frozen ground in a clumsy rhythm.
She pushed the door farther and stepped onto the porch, rifle raised.
A shape stumbled out of the dark and into the thin wash of light spilling from the window.
A boy barely standing. His coat hung off him like it belonged to someone larger.
Sweat shone on his forehead. His chest heaved with uneven breaths that turned to fog the moment they left his lips. He took two more stumbling steps toward the porch, then collapsed onto the frost, his hands barely catching the ground before his body gave out completely.
Cathy came to her side. “Barb…”
“He’s alone,” Barb said.
The boy groaned and rolled onto his back. His hands lifted an inch, palms open. A surrender. Barb stepped off the porch. The cold bit at her boots, frost whispering under her steps. Cathy followed her, keeping a few feet behind, rifle ready but lowered.
When Barb reached the boy, she halted just out of his reach. “State your name.”
His voice cracked. “Eli.”
Cathy’s breath hitched. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” he whispered. “Maybe seventeen. I don’t know anymore.”
Barb studied him. His breath came raggedly. His hands trembled even when he tried to steady them. His clothes were torn at the seams, his sleeves ripped, his boots covered in mud and frost. Real exhaustion weighted his limbs and sharpened his eyes.
“Why are you here?” Barb asked.
He swallowed hard. “I ran. I ran from the camp. I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to do what they do.”
“The raider camp?” Cathy asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell me exactly why you came here,” Barb said.
Eli’s lips parted. “I wanted to warn you. I wanted to get away from them. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Stand.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “My legs won’t hold.”
Cathy put her rifle aside and kneeled beside him. “You’re freezing. You need water.”
He blinked hard, like the world kept blurring.
Barb gave a slight nod. Cathy ran inside and returned with a small cup.
Eli tried to sit up to take it, but his arms buckled.
When he did, her sister steadied him. He drank so fast he choked.
Water spilled down his chin and into the frost. Cathy pulled the cup back, startled, then eased it toward him in slower sips.
“You said you ran,” Barb said. “Why?”
“Because I saw what they do. I saw what they planned for you. I marked trees because they forced me to. They didn’t trust me with much, but they trusted me with that. They thought I was too scared to run.”
“You marked our land?”
His eyes filled with something like shame. “Yes.”
“Why warn us now?”
“I couldn’t be part of it. I couldn’t stay there and watch it again. They are coming. Soon. They are gathering weapons. They’re scouting every farm with animals. You have water, and they want it.”
Barb listened with the same precision she gave every threat and every ally.
His voice quivered with exhaustion, not performance.
His hands trembled uncontrollably. The cuts on his knuckles were fresh.
His left wrist carried deep bruising that suggested someone had restrained him recently.
His boots were worn nearly through, the soles uneven. None of it looked orchestrated.
Cathy touched his shoulder gently. “What did they do to you?”
His breath shook. “Everything.”
Barb crouched beside him. “Who leads them?”
“A man named Kade,” Eli whispered. “He used to be military…or he says he was. He commands everything. If someone disobeys, he makes an example out of them. If someone questions him, he…he…”
Eli looked away, jaw clenched as if holding back a memory. Cathy brought the cup back to his lips.
He drank more slowly the second time. After he swallowed, he wiped his lips weakly and looked at Barb. “He said winter will weaken farms. People will break under the cold. He wants to take everything before the weather traps us.”
“How many men?” Barb asked.
“Twenty. Maybe more now. Some drifted in. They keep the women separate. I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to become like them.”
Cathy’s face went pale. “Did they follow you?”
“No. I waited until the patrol shifted. I cut through the orchard, then ran along the creek. I heard them once, but I hid. I kept running until my legs gave out.”
“How far?” Barb asked.
“Five miles. Maybe more. It felt like forever.”
“What is the plan for the strike?”
Eli’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “They want to come from three sides. From the ridge, the creek path, and the orchard. Hit the houses at once. Drive you into the barn. They think you will use it as shelter.”
Cathy stiffened. “They watched us.”
“Yes. They watched everyone.”
Barb checked the tree line again and saw no movement. Nothing was waiting in the dark. She sucked in a deep breath of air and exhaled slowly before looking back toward Eli. “Stand.”
She reached down, grabbed his arm carefully, and helped him to his feet. He swayed, nearly falling, but Cathy caught him by the elbow.
“You’ll stay in the barn,” Barb said. “Under watch. You don’t leave and don’t wander. The one thing you never do is lie to us.”
He nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything. I just don’t want to die with them.”
She held his gaze for another long moment.
Everything aligned. His story, injuries, desperation, and details.
It was all too consistent with what she had already extracted from the captured scout.
It wasn’t a story that was polished enough for manipulation.
Just raw truth from a frightened boy who had seen too much.
“Cathy, help him inside.”
Cathy wrapped her arm around his back and guided him toward the barn.
Eli stumbled twice but kept moving. Barb followed close behind, rifle still ready.
The barn felt warm compared to the open yard.
The cows shifted when they entered. The goats bleated softly.
The ducks rustled in their improvised pen.
Eli stared at the animals with something like disbelief. “You kept them alive,” he whispered.
“We intend to keep it that way,” Barb said.
Cathy led him to the far corner, where hay had been packed into a thick layer. She laid a blanket on it, then another.
Eli sank with a groan that sounded more like relief than pain. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“We are not finished,” Barb said. “You stay here. You help only when asked. You don’t move without permission.”
“I understand.”
“You said they’re coming soon. Tell me everything you know about their approach patterns, their timing, their weapons…all of it.”
Eli drew a breath that shook from the effort. “I will.”
Cathy sat beside him, offering another small drink. “Rest first. You look like you will pass out.”
“I can help.”
“Rest,” Barb said. “Then help.”
Eli eased down into the hay. His eyes stayed half open, tracking the rafters, the door, and the shadows at the edges of the barn.
“He’s watching the tree line,” Cathy whispered.
“He has lived under threat longer than we have,” Barb said.
She stood over him, feeling the weight of the moment settle deep in her ribs. A third pair of hands, and a direct line to the enemy. Eli’s eyes slid shut, and his breathing steadied. Cathy covered him with another blanket, then sat back on her heels.
“Barb,” she said. “Did we just change the shape of this fight?”
“Yes, I think we did,” Barb said.
Outside, the cold deepened again, pressing against the barn walls with a promise of what the next days would bring. They were no longer bracing against shadows. They knew who was coming, how many, and from where. The siege had found a voice, and it had come crawling to their door.