She could feel his breath in her hair as he murmured, “Do you want to turn and see for yourself, Winnow?”
She didn’t dare, thinking it would place her mouth far too close to his. At the very least, he was calling her Winnow again. That was familiar ground for them; she knew what she could expect from him in those moments. The word spars and the snark and the frowns. When he addressed her as Iris … it was like completely new territory and it scared her sometimes. As if she were stepping up to the edge of a great cliff.
They reached the front late that afternoon.
A small town had been vacated by the residents, every building given over to the cause. The lorry parked in front of what looked to have been a city hall, and soldiers began to swiftly unload the crates of vegetables and bullets and fresh uniforms. Iris stood in the bustle, Roman behind her. She wasn’t sure where she should go or what she should be doing, and her heart was beating in her throat.
“Correspondents?” a middle-aged woman with a deep voice asked, stopping before them. Her uniform was an olive green with brass buckles, and a golden star was pinned over her breast. A cap covered her short black hair.
“Yes,” Iris said. “Where should we—”
“You’ll be shadowing Dawn Company. I’m Captain Speer, and my soldiers are just finishing up their time in reserves and will be heading to the trenches at sundown. Here, come this way.”
Iris and Roman fell into pace with her as she strode down the dirt street, soldiers sidestepping and casting curious glances at the correspondents as they passed. Iris had the brief, wild hope that she might encounter Forest. But she soon realized that she couldn’t afford to be distracted, letting her eyes roam over the many faces around her.
“Our companies serve on twelve-hour rotations,” the woman said. “Sunrise to sunset, whether that be watching the front, tending the communication trenches, or resting in reserve. This town is the reserve base. If you need to refill your canteens or grab a hot meal, you’ll go there, to the mess hall. If you need to wash, you’ll go to the old hotel on the street corner. If you need a doctor, you’ll go to that house, although do be forewarned that the infirmary is overflowing at the moment and we are low on laudanum. And if you look ahead, you’ll notice this road leads into the woods. That is where you will march with Dawn Company to the communication trenches, which can be found on the other side of the forest. You’ll stay there for the night, and then be ready to move to the front at sunrise. Any questions?”
Iris’s mind was whirling, trying to sort through all the new information. Her hand reached for her mother’s locket, hidden beneath the linen of her jumpsuit.
“Is there a chance we’ll see action?” Roman asked.
“Yes,” Captain Speer said. “Wear a helmet, obey orders, and stay down at all times.” Her gaze snagged on a soldier passing by. “Lieutenant Lark! See to it that the correspondents are given instruction and equipment for their time here. They’ll shadow your platoon for the next several days.”
A fresh-faced soldier stood at attention before his eyes rested on Roman and Iris. Captain Speer was halfway across the road before Lark said, “First time, is it?”
Iris resisted the urge to glance at Roman. To see if he was feeling the same dread and excitement that was coursing through her.
“Indeed,” Roman said, extending his hand. “Roman Kitt. And this is—”
“Iris Winnow,” Iris said before he could introduce her. The lieutenant smiled as he shook her hand. A scar cut through his mouth; it tugged the right corner of his lips down, but his eyes were crinkled at the edges, as if he had smiled and laughed often in the time before the war. Iris wondered how long he had been fighting. He looked so young.
“We’re happy to have you both here,” Lark said. “Come, I’m just heading to the mess hall to eat my last hot meal for a few days. It’d be good to grab a bite yourselves, and I’ll explain more about what you can expect.”
Lark began to lead the way to the city-hall-turned-mess, and Iris moved to walk on the other side of him, so that the lieutenant was between her and Roman. Roman noticed; he granted Iris a slight glance before turning his attention to what lay before them.
“I have a confession, Lieutenant,” she began. “I’m not familiar with how the army is divided. Captain Speer said we’ll be accompanying your platoon?”
“Yes,” Lark replied. “There are four companies per battalion. Two hundred men and women per company, and four platoons in each company. I oversee roughly fifty men and women in mine, with Sergeant Duncan as my second. You’ll soon learn we’ve been dubbed the Sycamore Platoon.”
She should have had her notepad at the ready, but she tucked away the names and numbers to record as soon as she could. “The Sycamore Platoon? Why is that?”
“A long story, Miss Winnow. And one I’d like to share with you when the time’s right.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. Another question, if you don’t mind,” Iris said. “I was curious as to how a soldier is organized into their company. For instance, if a soldier is from Oath but enlists, who decides where they are to serve?”
“A good question, as we have quite a few soldiers from Oath, and Eastern Borough still has yet to declare war on Dacre and join the fight,” Lark said with a sad smile. “When someone from Oath enlists, they are added to an auxiliary company. They are still considered residents of Eastern Borough, but are added to a branch of our military, as if they were one of our own.”
Iris envisioned her brother. She wanted to ask about the whereabouts of the Second E Battalion, Fifth Landover Company, but another question emerged instead. “Is there anything we shouldn’t report on?”
Lark tilted his head to the side, as if considering. “Well, of course. No strategies, should you overhear them. No messages that we pass in the communication trenches. No locations or intel that would grant Dacre an advantage should he catch wind of the paper.” The lieutenant paused so he could open the door for Iris. A waft of air washed over them, smelling of onions and meatloaf. “I hear that you’re to be neutral reporters, but I also don’t think that’s quite possible, if I’m frank. I highly doubt you’ll be welcomed over to Dacre’s side, let alone return whole from it. I think the best piece of advice, Miss Winnow, is to write what you see happening and what you feel and who we are and why it’s vital that the people in Oath and the cities beyond join our effort. Is that something you think is possible?”
Iris paused, meeting the lieutenant’s hopeful eyes.
“Yes,” she said, in almost a whisper.
But the truth was … she felt in over her head. As if a rock were tied to her ankles and she had just been dropped into the ocean.
* * *