The military camp outside the walls of Fort Jaliyl was a mottled field of green pines, orange tents, and dancing yellow fires. Soldiers in brown uniforms, field officers in mustard. One man in orange, General Weaver, and a smattering of black horses. The yellow light of afternoon casting dark and light columns across the landscape.

“Don’t,” Severide hissed, holding out his hand.

Locksley froze, grimaced, and looked behind him, where the lieutenant’s wide eyes were staring. A bush. He turned back to Severide, confused, and took a step forward.

“Don’t touch the black holly.”

“Why?”

The lieutenant grabbed the boy’s red-and-black jacket, the one Harun had bought him, and pulled the boy further forward, away from the bush.

“It’s a genetic. Touching it is bad luck.”

“Why—” the boy glanced back at the bush, its black leaves and red berries. He frowned at his lieutenant. “Why not just cut them down?”

Severide sighed.

“In order to cut them down, you’d have to touch them.”

Locksley stared at his boots, embarrassed.

“Let’s get back to training.” Severide pointed at the boy’s gear gathered at the base of a nearby tree, all of it either bought or requisitioned by Harun. “Equip your bag.”

Locksley stepped over to the bag and looked back at his lieutenant with a face full of questions.

“Equip,” Severide said, “means to put it on.”

The boy nodded, gathered up the bag, and slung its strap over his right shoulder.

“No, you want to wear that bag over your left shoulder.”

Locksley squinted.

Severide pointed at him. “You are right-handed?”

Locksley nodded. “Why?”

Severide gestured to the long gun leaning against the tree. “Pick it up.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped as he leaned for the gun. As he stood upright again, the problem became apparent.

Severide pointed at him again. “The gun will bump against the bag as you walk.”

Locksley nodded.

“So, go ahead and change shoulders.” Severide reached out and took the gun from the boy. Locksley did as he was told, switched the bag to the other shoulder, and took the gun back. His face was fallen. He glanced up at Severide, then noticed Harun walking up.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes danced between his captain and lieutenant.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” said Severide. “Never be embarrassed. That’s the wrong response. Take each revelation as an opportunity to become better, even if one of the men has to give it to you.”

Locksley nodded. Harun nodded as well.

“Even if the men mock you,” Harun said with a wink. “Just ignore that. Trust me.”

“Boys!” came a loud voice.

The three of them looked up toward the source of the shout. Coranobis strode into camp from the direction of the Fort, face confident and arms spread wide. His men stood from where they’d been sitting around campfires.

“I have great news! Jeddy Ridvan, honored be his name, has declared a contest between two merchants, to determine the quality of their niter.”

His men were now intrigued and gathered around him. Harun glared at Severide, heat rising in his eyes.

“Old Macula,” Coran said, “the powder miller, is mixing up two samples as we speak. His mill has been fully repaired after the recent, inconvenient explosion. Our test is scheduled for tomorrow.”

Harun leaned in to Severide with a stomp of his boot, ignoring Locksley’s confused look.

“I can’t believe my Jeddy would choose this renegade for the test.”

Severide raised his hand to Harun, urging patience.

“Our section was chosen to carry out the test,” Coran said, with a victorious glance at Harun. General Weaver, in his distinctive orange uniform, walked up behind Coranobis and rested an approving hand on the captains’ shoulder.

Harun angrily slapped Severide’s hand away.

“Captain,” Severide said. Harun glared at him.

“What does this mean?” Locksley said, his eyes flashing between his captain and lieutenant.

Severide put his hand on the boy’s chest and shook his head.

“Just listen and watch.”

“Tomorrow,” said Coranobis, gesturing to take his men in, “we will gather at the range at noon.”

“Who are the merchants?” one of his men shouted.

Coranobis smiled smugly.

“Kath Franklin, who trades with the Bush Hart Gang, and Angela Belle out of Roanoke.”

His men muttered in amusement. They clearly knew those names.

“To ensure the integrity of the contest,” Coran said, “we must be perfectly even in our measure of powder. Make the test right.”

His men nodded and voiced their compliance.

“This,” Harun said, staring at the ground and shaking his head, “is unacceptable.”

“Captain,” Severide said. “Be careful.”

Harun took a deep breath and glared at Coranobis, who had gathered with his men, giving them further instructions.

“What’s happening?” Locksley said.

Harun nodded at Severide, a simmering fire in his eyes, and stomped off.

“Where’s he going?” Locksley said.

Severide sighed. “To do what is the lot of warriors and hunters.”

The boy’s face was confused.

Severide laughed. “He’s going to try to talk Ridvan out of it. Or appeal to Aadam and Huwaa’. It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything.”

Locksley’s mouth scrunched in frustration.

“That,” Severide said, “is the lot of warriors and hunters. Sometimes you find yourself in a position where you have to try anyway. Even knowing you’ll fail.”

The boy grunted in disgust.

“For example.” Severide nodded toward the entrance to the Fort, where Harun was marching up the Gravel Road toward the gate. Just passing him in the other direction were the girls Holland and Justice, whispering to each other.

“Where are they going?” Locksley said.

“Coming,” Severide corrected the boy with a chuckle. “For you.”

“For the Orange!” Coranobis shouted.

“For the Orange!” his men repeated.

As Coran’s section retreated to their campfires, and Coranobis himself walked away with an arm over General Weaver’s shoulders, the girls turned into the military camp on a tack toward Locksley.

The boy took a step backward. Severide grabbed his jacket again.

“Don’t touch the black holly.”

The boy glanced over his shoulder at the bush and took a reluctant step forward.

“You’ve got enough bad luck already,” Severide chuckled. “Walking this way.”

The boy sighed, seeing Justice and Holland were staring at him as they approached.

“Girls?” Severide said. Locksley stood upright, set the butt of the long gun on the ground, and straightened the bag on his left shoulder. The girls stopped a few feet away and looked him up and down. They shared a disapproving look, then stared at him again.

“We were making a bracelet,” Justice said, eyes rolled toward the sky.

Holland frowned. “Justice made a bracelet.”

Justice sighed and glared at Holland. Holland shrugged with wide eyes. Severide nodded at them, amused.

“I didn’t know what to do with it,” Justice said, with a sidelong glance at Holland. Then, she looked up at Severide. “Holland suggested I give it to Locksley to remind him of Beauty House while he is out in the field.”

Holland looked embarrassed. She shuffled her feet. “So he’ll remember what he’s training for.”

Locksley’s mouth was open. Severide stifled his grin.

“That is a fine and patriotic gesture,” the lieutenant said. “The men will be grateful to have a token to help remind young Locksley what he’s training for.”

Justice held out a ring of dark brown, wooden beads. Locksley blinked at it. Severide shoved the boys’ shoulder with his elbow.

“Take it, dummy.”

The boy groaned and reached out for the bracelet. He squeezed it over the knuckles of his left hand until it fell over his wrist.

“Thank you,” he said to Justice.

Severide put a hand on his shoulder and looked pointedly at Holland.

“And thank you,” Locksley said to her.

Holland blushed and nodded at him. Then, her face grew stern. “But, the rule is that you must promise to remember us while you’re in field school.”

Locksley nodded at her. “I will. I will always remember you.”

She stared him down, demanding more.

“I promise,” he said.

Holland stepped forward, grabbed his jacket, and looked up at him. His face went blank and he leaned back. She leaned forward aggressively, on her tiptoes, and kissed him on his cheek.

She released his jacket and stepped back.

“That seals it,” she said. “Now you have to keep your promise.”

Locksley touched his cheek gently. Severide blinked a slow, controlled blink and stifled a smile.

“Now girls,” the lieutenant said, “explain to him why he cannot touch the black holly.”

Justice and Holland shared a confused look. He had taken them by surprise.

“It’s a genetic,” Justice said.

“You can’t touch a genetic,” said Holland.

“I know,” the boy said. “Lieutenant Severide told me.”

“You can’t touch any genetic,” said Holland. “Not the black holly, not the glow fungus, not the dank weed.”

Locksley was confused. This was all new to him. Well-born boys were kept in the dark about stuff outside the Fort until the men took them to field training. The girls were taught things by their mothers beyond what the boys knew.

“What about the reborn?” he said.

“Mammoths, rhinos, and sabretooths?” Severide said.

“Those are genetics,” Holland growled.

“They’re not,” Justice said. She frowned an apology. “They’re not changed. Just reborn.”

“You two,” Severide grinned, “have some questions for Jeddy Ridvan during the next story time. About the genetics and the reborn.”

Both girls thought about it, then nodded.

“But,” said Holland, with a glance at Justice. “The wildfolk are bad luck. They’re all genetics.”

Locksley looked to his lieutenant. Severide nodded.

“What if they attack us?” the boy said.

The girls looked up at Severide, clearly as confused as Locksley. The lieutenant nodded and stepped back.

“Well,” he said, “if they attack you, then it’s on them. If you touch them after that, it’s in self-defense. Bad luck for them.”

The boy took it in. The girls pouted and shared a suspicious look. Without words, they came to a conclusion.

“Yes,” Holland said. “If they touch you first, the bad luck is theirs.”