Dear Reader, This is the final chapter of part I. Part II will be continued in this same thread. But now we are leaving Bertegad. Thanks to my readers, followers, favoritors and reviewers. I appreciate the feedback very much as it keeps me motivated to keep posting. I'll be back soon with part II. Peace, CS
Chapter 40 Falling Leaves
"One day, the greyness of morning upon you,
a part of your life taken from you, just for a while.
Silently waiting for someone who'll know why
the price of an hour of love is so high . . .
Oh, I do.
Where is the heaven that you've dreamed of?
How many thoughts have you denied?
Then you can say that you're in love,
forever to be alone."
Forever to Be Alone
Justin Hayward
"You wanted to see me, Master?"
Exuberant and bubbly even after a battle.
If there was one thing that could be said about Ahsoka, it was that she never seemed to lose her enthusiasm. Whether in agreement or disagreement, her vehemence was always in the upper tier. That passion was one of the things Anakin most admired in her.
She was turning out to be quite a good padawan. She was open to instruction and learning new things. Even boring assignments like working in the Jedi Temple library—which turned out not to be so very boring after all (a story for a different day)—while not warmly embraced, were met with the patience and wisdom that had replaced the grudging, puerile impetuosity of her earliest days as a padawan.
To be certain, she still had moments of poor judgment, hasty decision, and immaturity; but Anakin mused that Obiwan probably said the same thing about him. It was all a matter of perspective and experience. Anakin knew he himself still had quite a bit of learning and growing to do as a Jedi. When confronted with the wisdom of Yoda or the level-headedness of Luminara Unduli, he recognized his own shortcomings. But he also was keenly aware of the connection he had with the Force, the power that came so readily to him.
And although he was loathe to admit it, there was a very persistent voice in the back of his head that insisted that power was preferable to wisdom, preferable to level-headedness. The only virtue that might stand a chance of knocking power from its place of importance was mercy.
Yet, mercy seemed to be in such short supply . . .
His thoughts returned once more to Ahsoka, standing before him, waiting for him to speak. He drew in a deep breath. He was going to need all the wisdom, equanimity, and determination he could muster.
"Yes, Ahsoka." It seemed the use of her name versus her nickname would carry more authority in this case. "I'm going to have you stay here with the 40th until the recovery team arrives." He braced himself for the argument.
And it came.
"Master, I don't think it's necessary for me to stay," Ahsoka protested. "I'm sure one of the battalion commanders will be staying, so it makes no sense—"
"None of the battalion commanders are Jedi," Anakin cut her off. "After what these people have just been through, I think it's a good idea to keep a Jedi here until we can be sure that the Separatists aren't coming back."
"And you think a day or two will make a difference? Master, if I leave here after the recovery team arrives, the Separatists could show up the next day. And the recovery team won't have a Jedi with them. Whether I leave now or in a few days won't matter . . . " She could see, already, by the look in his eye, that she was not properly sizing up the situation. "It's not going to be one or two days, is it?"
"Admiral Yularen is leaving Three-Forty* here to assist the recovery team and provide some additional security until our business of Kamino is done," Anakin explained. "He thinks it's a good idea to keep them in reserve, since there's a good chance Kamino will require some . . . rebuilding. Obiwan and I both agreed it would be best if a Jedi stayed here with them."
"And I drew the lucky number," Ahsoka simpered, but she was not ready to give up. Not yet. "Master, I understand, but I don't think that's a good idea. If the Separatists manage to destroy the cloning facilities, the entire war effort may be lost. You'll need every Jedi available to help with Kamino's defense."
"There will be other Jedi there," Anakin replied. "I need you here to make sure not only that these people are protected, but that the troops we're leaving behind are protected as well. The men know and trust you, Ahsoka. I trust you."
She glanced away in consideration, but truly there was nothing to ponder. Her master had given her an order, she had protested, and he had reaffirmed the order. Yes, she'd disobeyed before—blatantly—but this time, disobedience would be like abandoning her post. That, she could not do.
"If that's what you think is best, Master," she said, throwing in a sigh to make sure he understood she was doing this under duress.
"I know you can handle it, Snips," Anakin grinned.
"Sure, I can handle it," Ahsoka told herself silently, adding with internal petulance. "So much for spending any time with Rex."
It was selfish and childish, and she knew it. Another thorn in her side to remind her just how young she really was to let her emotions have such reign over her thoughts. She could only wonder if things would get any easier as she got older.
Force, she hoped so.
Rex held out his arm. "Will you walk with me one last time?"
It seemed the best way to end the sad awkwardness that had befallen the two of them. Rex had said what he'd intended to say. Maree's response had been more circumspect and guarded. And now neither of them knew what to say or how to bring the subject to its conclusion.
But one thing Rex did know: he was not going to leave her on such a wavering note. He would close this chapter just as he had opened it.
With something safe and easy.
With manners.
Maree smiled and accepted.
They began walking along the path that led to the north.
"There's one place I want to see again before we leave," Rex announced.
"Lead the way," Maree replied.
For thirty minutes, they continued on, following one path then another, Maree remarking silently how well Rex had come to know all the trails in such a short period of time. They eventually picked up the path than ran along the springs and the streams that joined them one to the other. They climbed up past where Maree had first seen the young girls spying on the swimming clones.
Leading the way down the other side, Rex said with amused recollection in his voice, "Do you remember when the children followed us out here?"
"I certainly do."
Rex was glad to hear the happiness in her voice.
"You had me running all through this place," he recalled, then turning a bold eye to her. "You up for that again?"
"Well, I—" She got nothing more out before he took her hand in his and bounded off down the path.
Running along behind him, she began to feel some of the weight of the past few days lifting. There was something liberating about racing through the encroaching night, following in the steps of this man whom she loved so dearly, not knowing what turns he would take or where he would lead her. This was precisely what she had needed, something to blow away the pall, to lift her spirit.
And she could not help but marvel that it was this stoic, serious clone captain who was showing her how to rise above the melancholy, how to break free from her own worries. Yet, it felt less like they were running from something than running towards something. A great unknown future, where they would never be close together, but they would never be far apart.
His grip was strong, his steps firmly planted and remarkably light for a man so encumbered. There was a fluid ease to his movements that the ensemble of his armor only seemed to accentuate; and Maree was reminded once again that the way she was seeing him now—the soldier—this was the fullness of who he was. Both a leader and a follower. A man who could inspire others through his actions.
A man who had doubtless witnessed so many atrocities and tragedies that he had learned—or been conditioned—to actively overcome the insidious malaise that must be the natural byproduct of such horror.
He was showing her that ability now, and she felt her heart swell with appreciation. To think . . . a simple soldier—a clone, no less—guiding a holy woman through the maze of her own sadness.
Perhaps the Creator had truly known what he was doing when he'd sent Rex into her path.
Rex darted through the clumps of bushes and around the rocky outcroppings, and he could have sworn he heard Maree laughing behind him. He had hoped for as much.
He ducked into a familiar clump of Eylick bushes, Maree springing in behind him. He turned to face her.
"This is the place."
Maree raised an eyebrow. Even in the pale darkness, the heightened color of her cheeks was as visible as her smile.
"This? You wanted to see the place where I pushed you into the water?"
"Mm-hm." The mischievous look on his face made her take a step back. But he had no nefarious intentions. Instead, he looked out over the placid surface with a nostalgic gleam in his eye. "This is the place where I first knew." A pause as he returned his gaze to her. "Where I first knew that what I felt for you wasn't anything I'd ever experienced before." A pause. "I didn't know if it was love. But I wanted that moment to never end. And for me . . . it hasn't." He reached out a hand and drew her beside him. "It was love. It still is."
Maree regarded him steadily. "Do you know when I first fell in love with you? When you got sick at the Losla birth."
"What? Oh, no, no," Rex groaned dramatically. "Really? That was what did it?"
"Well, it had been building up so slowly that I hardly recognized it," she replied. "You were so serious and grumpy when you first got here, but even then . . . even then, I think there was something that I found attractive." A pause. "But I knew it was impossible for us to be together. You knew that, as well." She brushed the tips of her fingers gently across his brow. "I think we both managed to honor our oaths – though you did a better job than I did."
"That's your opinion," Rex smiled, then his demeanor became serious. "If . . . if I survive this war, and me and my brothers are given our freedom . . . then I want to return here and be with you. I know it won't be for long—given how fast we age, but it would make the wait for eternity a little more tolerable." He added quickly with a teasing lilt, "And I know the limitations. I told you that, the night you pushed me in there."
"Yes, I seem to recall you saying you had limitations of your own," Maree beamed. "On that, I must disagree. Any limitations you have are placed on you by others, Rex. I don't think you yourself have a single limitation."
Rex chuckled softly. "I think Cody would disagree with you on that."
"That very well may be—"
Even as she spoke, Rex's wrist communicator beeped.
"Rex, this is Cody."
Rex and Maree exchanged amused glances.
"His timing is impeccable," Maree noted.
"And lousy," Rex added. Still, he raised his arm. "Rex here."
"Just reminding you: gunship in thirty minutes."
"Roger that. I'll be there."
He sighed. "That was the fastest two hours in history."
"We still have thirty minutes," Maree pointed out, taking his hand. "Let's make it a slow walk back."
"Sister Agnesta . . . you came to see me off." Pitch bent down so he could be eye-to-eye with the tiny woman.
"I came to say good-bye," she said in a manner of correction, as if there were a great distinction between seeing off and saying good-bye – and perhaps there was.
"Thank you," Pitch grinned. "Thank you for coming down here. Thank you for teaching me how to pray." He blushed – an uncommon occurrence. "I wasn't very good at it—"
"You do not have to be good at it," the old woman advised. "Only sincere." She pat his hand lovingly. "You are a good boy. You have a good heart. Of them all, you are the only one who came to ask. You are a good boy, and I will continue to pray for you every day."
"I'll take all the prayers I can get, Sister," Pitch graciously accepted. "And I promise that I'll pray for you, as well."
"Very good, very good. Be careful. Fight with honor and respect for all the Creator has made."
"I will, Sister, I promise."
Not far from this parting, another farewell was taking place.
"I will miss hearing your stories," Anaide admitted. "I think we all will."
Echo replied in kind. "I'll miss having an audience that wants to hear them. I think, after everything that's happened here, I'll have a whole new battery of stories to tell. I can say that life in the 501st has been anything but boring."
The sister could tell that, though he was answering politely, he was preoccupied. She knew the reason why.
"I looked everywhere for Yusani," she sighed. "I think she must be very upset about your leaving, and she's hiding. But don't worry. She's done this sort of thing before. In a few hours, I'm sure she will come out and want to talk to everyone about you. Like you, she'll have plenty of people who will want to listen."
Echo nodded, then asked tepidly. "Will she . . . will she be okay?"
Anaide knew he was referring to more than just the upset the little girl might feel at his departure.
"Yes, she will," came the reply. "Her physical deformities are external. Internally, she is as healthy as a losla. I imagine, as she gets older and can make decisions for herself, that she may choose reconstructive surgery. But again, she may not." A smile. "She's a very complicated little mouse."
"Well . . . then, tell her good-bye for me, and—and how much I—how much she means to me," Echo fumbled through his words. "Maybe someday I'll be back."
Anaide nodded. "Thank you for protecting us. Let all your brothers know that we support them and are praying for them. And Echo . . . be careful."
"I will."
Cody was watching the shipside final words of parting. He, himself, had already said his good-byes to everyone except the Doma. And it had occurred to him, as he'd visited with Au-Trava, Au-Sinti, Au-Ogusta, just how much he'd come to respect and admire these men, to the point where he wished they were the ones fighting beside him and his brothers in battle, as opposed to some of the other more questionable allies of the Republic.
Still, the time had come to leave the Austeniens and the Verviens to return to carrying out their primary task of healing. Time for the commander and his brothers to return to their primary task of waging war. He had noticed, upon his return from Heembab, a change in the men who had stayed behind. It was as if they had slipped into an idyllic otherworld, which even the shock of the Copian attack had not fully dispelled. Over the past few days, he had seen them slowly returning to the rhythm of life as a clone trooper, but there were still lingering remnants of what Cody euphemistically labelled, 'the holy life.'
It was not enough to cause concern. After all, Cody himself had begun to feel the effects of the Monastica even after spending only a few days in the place. He could understand that its allure and sway might increase the more time one spent there.
There was only one man who had given him reason to take notice.
And that was Rex.
The change might be subtle, but not to Cody.
Rex was unflappable, not easily distracted, utterly focused, and brutally upfront.
The Rex Cody had seen since the battle's conclusion, while he might have returned to his banner military efficiency, was somehow not fully engaged in the moment. So, when Cody had noticed that they were thirty minutes out from report time, and Rex was nowhere in sight, he had taken it upon himself to put that gentle reminder in his friend's ear. For in any other circumstance, Rex would have been at the gunship an hour prior to showtime. He might have spent that hour preening over his armor—he was very vain in that way—checking and rechecking his pistols, chatting with the pilots, ticking off the names of his men as they reported in. But to be thirty minutes out and a no-show: maybe someone else, but not Rex.
Now, fifteen minutes had passed, and even Generals Skywalker and Kenobi were approaching from the direction of the Taber.
"General Skywalker's beating Rex to show time. What the hell's going on?" Cody wondered.
As the two generals drew closer, the commander could hear General Skywalker talking into his wrist comm.
"—leaving Major Dunore in charge of the Third. He's on his way here from the Taber. I want you to link up with him before we leave."
"I'm already on my way, Master. I should be there in a couple minutes."
"Major Dunore is a tough character," Obiwan remarked. "Do you think Ahsoka will be able to get along with him?"
"That's why I want to match them up in front of us, so they can both understand the chain-of-command," Anakin replied. "Major Dunore will have operational command. Ahsoka is responsible for protection. She may not like the idea of deferring to him, but he knows what he's doing when it comes to reconstruction. And he'll have to trust her when it comes to any defensive measures that might have to be taken." A pause as he surveyed the area. "Rex isn't here yet?"
Cody was quick to answer. "I already contacted him, General. He's on his way."
Obiwan quipped lightly, "He must have a lot of good-byes to say."
Anakin kept his expression neutral. From what he had witnessed earlier, he imagined it was one good-bye. One very difficult good-bye.
They were approaching the open space where the gunship was waiting.
Rex could hear the low droning of the engines – even now, still a comforting sound, despite the circumstances.
Still deep enough into the sparse wood that they could not see the ship, Rex drew to a stop.
"This is it." He sounded subdued, oppressed now that the moment was actually upon them. He continued to stare down the path, as if dreading what lay beyond the trees.
When he received no response from Maree, it took an act of will and courage for him to face her, not knowing what he would see.
To his amazement, he beheld a placidity that not been there earlier. He might have labeled it a stiff upper lip, except that that was not at all what he was seeing. Something had happened, some decision had been reached, some resolution embraced.
After a long silence, Maree spoke. "If, at the end of all things, you still desire to be with me, then . . . know that is my desire as well. If you are willing and able to wait, I will be there when the wait is over. Whether it be in this life or the next."
Her words settled something that been running restless in his soul and gave him the courage to do what he had only contemplated, something he wasn't sure he should be doing at all. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try.
It would be his first, and he wanted to remember every detail of it, for the memory would have to last him a lifetime. Perhaps longer.
He bent his head down slowly, apprehensive that she might back away. After all, this was definitely not the sort of thing the head of a celibate religious order would condone.
But she did not back away, and when his lips touched hers, Rex felt as if he were melting, merging into her body through just this thin line of contact. It was a chaste kiss, a kiss of love and not passion; but when it ended, Rex did not draw back right away. He lingered, his lips brushing against hers. He felt her hand on cheek, soft and gentle. He put his hands on her waist, still maintaining the distance between them.
By the Force, now he understood why something as simple as a kiss—even one such as this—was such a potent and powerful thing. For it was certainly arousing in him the desire for even greater intimacy, which he knew was out of the question.
At length, he buried his face in the crook of her neck—not in any sensual manner, but rather in the way that a strong man, in the face of great peril and danger or its aftermath, takes solace in the comfort that can only come from the woman he loves and who loves him in return.
When he finally raised his head again, it was to see her regarding him with a tearful smile.
"We should go."
Rex composed himself. "Right."
As they came to the edge of the trees and within sight of the gunship, Maree spoke once more, her eyes trained straight ahead. "Return to me safely . . . and quickly." She hesitated and turned her head to regard him obliquely. "My gallant captain."
They drew near the gunship and the group of personnel preparing to board.
Cody came forward. "I was starting to worry you'd miss show time."
"You know better than that," Rex replied.
The commander gave a nod then turned to Maree, and Rex went to say his good-byes to the others.
"Doma, I know you've probably heard it a hundred times by now, but make it a hundred and one. Thank you for everything. Thank you for sending your people out to rescue us, for taking care of us, for saving our injured. I won't forget your hospitality. None of us will," the commander said. "We won't forget everything you and your people risked to protect us."
"It's a small risk compared to the ones you and your brothers take every day," Maree replied.
"That's our job," came the dutiful response.
"It's not a job," Maree countered with a kind inflection in her voice. "It's a calling. You may have been created to do battle, but to do it well . . . it is a calling." A pause. "Your men are truly amazing, Commander. I feel my life has been enriched for knowing them."
"I know I speak for all of them when I say we feel the same way about you and your people."
Maree appreciated his thoughtfulness. She had known from the first moment she'd met him that Cody was an exceptional man in too many ways to enumerate. He was a man who could be trusted.
"I wish you were not going," she admitted. "But we will pray unceasingly for your safety." A pause. "And Commander . . . you will look after Rex, won't you?"
Cody grinned. "I always have." A laugh. "Though he doesn't need it very much and would be outraged if I even suggested it." A knowing glint came into his eye. "I see you discovered that he can be a bit on the impetuous side."
"He can, indeed," Maree replied, returning his good humor with her own. "Which is why I'm glad he has someone like you to . . . keep his feet on the ground."
"Only sometimes," Cody corrected. "When he's got his mind set on something, it's hard to hold him down." He paused and gave a crooked smile at some memory. "But that's one of the best things about him."
Maree nodded then reached out to take both his hands. "Agreed. Be safe, Commander. Be safe and may the Creator protect you all."
The last ones to approach the Doma were Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, joined at the last minute by Commander Tano, who appeared flustered and out-of-breath.
"On behalf of the Republic, thank you for all you've done for our troops," Obi-wan began. "Without your help, we would have lost a lot of very good men."
"It was our honor to help," Maree replied.
"And we will be here if you ever require our help again," Au-Mikiel answered. "Our medical facilities will always be open to your injured. I'm sure, as the war spreads, the need for medical services increases."
"We will certainly take your offer to the Jedi Council and the Senate," Obi-wan replied. "Perhaps a technology share would benefit both your world and our forces."
"It is certainly something that we can discuss," Au-Mikiel said, adding, "But there are aspects of our healing that cannot be replicated by technology. I'm sure you understand that."
"Yes, I do."
There was a moment wherein no one spoke, but then Maree, in her role as Doma, took the lead.
"This is farewell, then. But before you go, I would ask Fels Au-Mikiel to say a prayer over you."
There was no objection, and Au-Mikiel began speaking in his native tongue, a chant both mystical and lyrical, something that transported its hearers above the trappings of daily life, a prayer that rose above the drone of the engines, that seemed to catch on the breeze and spread to every corner of the Monastica.
"It's some kind of . . . it's some use of the Force that I've never seen before," Anakin said silently. He wondered if Obi-wan was coming to the same conclusion. When the prayer was finished, he looked up and saw that a giant eagle had come and perched on top of the Taber's ruined walls. The bird was translucent, and Anakin knew right away that he was looking at something supernatural. He would have to inquire about it with his men later.
"The words of that prayer go back to the earliest days of our order," Maree explained. "They have never been written down, just passed on by oral tradition."
"What does it mean?" Obi-wan asked.
Maree translated.
"When you are in doubt, be still and wait. When doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage. So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still until the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists, as it surely will. Then act with courage." She smiled. "That is the wisdom of the eagle. He recognizes his own gift when he hears it spoken of." And for a moment, her gaze shifted to Double Barrell, standing in the door of the gunship; he seemed to have taken her words to heart, and the Doma wondered if perhaps he was feeling some reluctance to leave the soul that had saved him and established a bond in doing so.
"It's brilliant," Obi-wan praised. "And very fitting, I believe."
Maree nodded. "Win this war, Master Jedi. The peace of the entire galaxy may well depend on it."
The two generals boarded the ship. Directly behind them, per custom—when General Skywalker wasn't mucking things up—were their firsts-in-command. Rex and Cody had been standing beside the gunship, and now they were the last two to step up.
From beside Rex, Anakin spoke once more to his padawan. "Ahsoka, remember what I told you."
"I will, Master," she replied, but she did not sound particularly invested in her own answer.
Cody lifted his wrist comm. "Dodger, we're ready to go."
"Roger that. Lifting off."
"Soldier Echo! Soldier Echo! Wait! Come back!"
Anakin followed the sound of the voice as a little girl with a deformed face came running out from the gathered brothers and sisters, several of whom made snatches at her but with no luck. Even so, by the time she was close enough, the ship was already five meters off the ground and going up slowly in a sort of languid processional good-bye turn.
"What—wait—Echo! Wait!" That was Fives' voice.
Anakin turned to see a bit of a commotion at the other door. "What's going on?"
It was Fives who replied in an excited voice. "Echo just jumped back down there!"
Anakin looked back out his door just in time to see Echo reach the child and lift her into his arms in what had all the appearance of a fatherly embrace.
"Dodger, bring her back down," Cody ordered.
On the ground, Echo was not considering the trouble that his action might get him into. His heart was telling him what to do.
"I didn't think I was going to get to say good-bye," he said. "I looked for you, but I couldn't find you."
"I make this," came the exuberant reply as she held out a pile of twigs bound together that loosely resembled a doll. "For you."
Echo took the twigs. "For me?"
"Um-hum! This is me! You not forget," Yusani explained.
"I love it," Echo replied. "Thank you very much." He kissed her cheek. "And I won't forget you, Yusani. I promise."
"You come back?"
"I hope so." It was an honest answer.
She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck and squeezed with all her strength.
"You come back," she said in his ear. "I wait. You come back."
Rex had watched this tender moment, but now with the words almost mirroring the promises both he and the Doma had made, he directed his gaze back towards Maree as Anaide stepped forward to take Yusani from Echo.
She was looking at him as if he were the only living thing, so intent was her focus. For a moment, he actually thought, as the ship touched down once again, that she might break from where she stood and come running to him. But it was a fleeting thought, for he knew she had more self-possession than to do such a thing.
Still, her silent stare spoke volumes. She wanted to imprint every detail of how he looked right now upon her memory, for it might be a very long time until they saw each other again – if ever. She wanted to remember the feel of his lips: so tentative, so gentle.
The pain in their parting had seemed distant until now. Distant to both of them. The time for words and embraces was past. Now, only thoughts remained . . . and a final gaze.
Echo was back aboard, and the gunship rose once more into the air. It took on northerly heading and picked up speed as it began its ascent. In the darkness, its great dual landing lights carved out a path for a bit. And then it was gone from sight.
Maree felt suspended in place, unable to stop looking even though she could no longer see anything. Beside her, Au-Mikiel put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Are you alright, Doma?"
"I will be," she replied.
"I think it will take some time to get used to them not being here," Mikiel opined. "They made a very large impact in a short period of time. We will all miss them." He drew his head close to hers and added, "I understand your sadness – more than you know."
Maree looked at him in a manner that invited him to go on.
"It is a struggle when you love someone," he said. "But the Creator gives us precisely what we need at the moment we need it." A pause. "You did not break your vow."
Maree was surprised at his prescience. "How did you know?"
"Have you forgotten that the Creator has given me gifts, as well?" Mikiel asked with a smile. "The gift of discernment? I could sense your struggle daily. The captain's, as well."
Maree sighed. "I may not have broken that vow, but I did break my vow to protect the souls." A pause. "But for that, Me'Ente Loge and the Creator have forgiven me." She took his hand. "Mikiel, you will be surprised when I tell you what happened, how I knew I had been forgiven. But for now, I . . . I just want to retire to my residence. I need some solitude and . . . I need to pray."
"Of course, Doma," the first servant replied with understanding. "Shall I have someone accompany you?"
Maree smiled in a desultory manner. "I will be fine alone."
She turned to begin her walk back to her residence when she saw Ahsoka was still there as well, standing nearby.
"Commander Tano," she greeted her. "I'm sorry, I've been rude. Is there anything you need?"
"No, I think I'm set," Ahsoka replied. "I, uh, I'll just be heading back to see how the engineers are doing at the assembly hall."
"Please be sure to let us know if you need anything."
"I will, Doma. Thank you."
Ahsoka watched her leave, but then instead of heading back to the engineers, she took the long way round the perimeter. She had some thinking to do.
After what she'd seen in the trees . . .
. . . she had some thinking to do.
*Three-Forty is actually 3/40 Engineers, or 3d Battalion, 40th Engineering Brigade.
**The prayer is actually called "Act with Courage" and it's a Ponca Indian prayer attributed to White Eagle. I find Native American spirituality very beguiling, and well . . . Saint John-Paul II prayed alongside American Indians, then who am I to argue?