She was terrified; she wanted to cry, but she would not let herself.
Then they were huddled together in the darkness, and her mother was kneeling in front of her, their faces only inches away. Her mother wore a backpack and carried her Parkhan Spray. “I need to have my hands free to use my weapon. Stay close to me. I will not leave you behind, no matter what.” She paused. “I love you, little one.”
A moment later she was back on her feet, holding the big, black-barreled Spray in front of her, swinging it about and yelling at Sparrow to run. Together they raced across a short stretch of open ground between two of the burning shelters, her mother firing the Spray in short bursts at the dark forms that rushed toward her. Sparrow heard the hiss and whine of bullets as they flew past her head and saw the muzzle flashes of the enemy weapons in the shadows. The sounds were terrifying, and she ran as if she were on fire and only the rush of the wind could extinguish the flames.
They reached the woods behind the camp, the weapons fire tracking them all the way, and suddenly, just as they passed into the trees, she felt a fiery sting on her arm and another on her leg. She heard her mother grunt and saw her falter, then straighten and continue on. Biting her tongue against the pain of her wounds, she followed. They ran deep into the trees, away from the carnage of their home, the sounds of death slowly receding behind them as darkness and shadows closed about.
They ran a long way after that before her mother slowed, and by then they were deep into the woods and climbing the slope behind them into the mountains.
Her mother glanced back at her, saw that she was holding her injured arm, and stopped at once to take a look. As she did so, Sparrow saw that the whole front of her mother’s shirt was wet and slick with blood.
“Mama, you’re hurt!” she whispered, reaching for her.
Her mother intercepted her hands and held her away. “No, there’s nothing wrong,” she said quickly. She smiled quickly. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”
Sparrow nodded. “Then we have to keep going.”
They climbed high into the mountains, and soon all they could see of the camp was a fiery dot burning out of the blackness below. But the sounds of the killing were still audible, shrill and terrible, and Sparrow was forced to listen. She knew what was happening. All of her friends, all those people she had grown up with, were gone. Only she and her mother and perhaps a handful of others had escaped. Tears flooded her eyes with the realization that she would never see her friends again. She wiped at the dampness and tried not to let her mother see.
It was only an hour or two before dawn when her mother finally allowed them to stop. They had come through a pass and were on the other side of the mountain, and the camp and its horrors were left behind. They sat together on a grassy berm that provided them with shelter, facing west across a plain dark with night and a sky filled with stars. Her mother had abandoned the Spray sometime back, but she still wore her backpack. She stripped it off now and pulled out clothes and boots for Sparrow to change into. She was breathing heavily, and the blood from her wounds coated both the front and back of her shirt. She seemed unaware of it as she watched Sparrow change out of her nightdress, but her eyes were filled with pain.
“We’ll rest here until morning, little one,” she said. “Then we will walk west to the ocean. It will take a couple of days, but we will go slowly and carefully and watch out for danger.” She reached into her pack and pulled out a flechette handgun. “This will be yours until we reach our destination. Don’t use it unless you are in real danger.”
Sparrow listened and nodded, not knowing how to reply. Finally, she said,
“You have to stop the bleeding, Mama. You have to bandage yourself so it will stop.”
Her mother smiled and reached for her hand, pulling her down beside her.
“I need to rest a little while first. You should rest, too. We have a long walk ahead of us. Can you make that walk? Are you strong enough to walk all the way to the ocean?”
Sparrow nodded, staring into her mother’s clear eyes. “I can walk anywhere you want me to, Mama.”
Her mother squeezed her hands. “Then everything will be all right.”
She sighed heavily. “I have to rest now. I’m very tired. Don’t forget, little one. I love you. I will always love you.”
She lay back against the wall of the berm, and her face was pale and drawn in the starlight. Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Sparrow lay down next to her, pressing close, still holding her hand. She looked over at her mother’s face and thought how much she loved her in turn. She told herself that she would be strong for her mother and would not complain. She would do whatever her mother wanted her to do.
Moments later, she fell asleep.
When she woke, it was morning. The stars had gone and taken her mother with them.
*