Nightrise

down and talk.
    On the next journey, he found Scar and Finn.
    By now, Jamie could tell almost at a glance who was going to live to talk about this day and who was not. He could see at once that Finn was dying. The big man was lying with his legs outstretched and his back against the stump of a tree. Scar was kneeling beside him and Inti was there too. Corian and Erin were also nearby, watching anxiously. Jamie was relieved to see that neither of the brothers had been hurt.
    Inti had been leaning forward with his hands resting on Finn's shoulders, but as Jamie approached he straightened up and glanced at Scar, signaling that there was nothing more he could do. Jamie could see why. Whatever Inti's power, he had arrived too late. Finn had taken a terrible blow to the shoulder and lost too much blood. He was very close to the end.
    Finn saw Jamie and managed to bend the fingers of one hand, gesturing at him to come closer. Jamie held out a water bottle but Finn shook his head. He no longer had the strength to swallow. Nor did he need to prolong what little life he had left.
    "Sapling!" he said.
    As Scar turned around and noticed him for the first time, Jamie saw that there were tears in her eyes.
    'You did well." Finn coughed and a few specks of blood flecked his lips. "I knew you would. Didn't I tell you?"
    Jamie nodded but couldn't speak.
    "Finn…" Scar began.
    Finn took her hands in his. 'You're not to cry, Scar," he whispered. "I've told you before. It's not fitting."
    "How will I manage without you?" Scar exclaimed.
    "Don't be foolish. You have your friends. The Five…" Finn patted her hand. It was all the movement he could manage. "But we had adventures together, you and I. People will remember them and talk of them one day, perhaps."
    "Oh, Finn…" Scar couldn't hold back the tears anymore.
    "You're going to be on your own now. But you don't need me anymore. I'm not sure you ever did." Finn reached up and gently stroked her hair one last time. "We won," he said. "That's all that matters." Finn looked adoringly at her. Then his head fell back and Jamie knew that he would never speak again.
    He couldn't bear to see any more. He snatched up the water bottle and hurried away.
    The day wore on, the sun set, and at last all the activity began to wind down. The physicians had done what they could. The wounded were resting. And those who had been chosen to die had done so quietly and without complaint. Jamie was almost overwhelmed with tiredness. Part of it was the exhaustion of the fight and the long hours spent working once the battle was over. But he recognized that it was something more. It was a reaction to what he had been through — so much happening so quickly, so many deaths. He was emotionally as well as physically worn out.
    That was when Flint returned. Jamie had wondered what had become of his brother — for he couldn't think of him any other way — but suddenly Flint appeared riding on a horse-drawn wagon that was piled high with sacks and barrels. He had taken six men with him and they had all returned with similar wagons. They tore through the middle of the field and stopped. Flint leaped to his feet.
    "We've found food!" he called out. "The overlords had a camp on the other side of the valley, and of course they kept all the best supplies for themselves. We have bread and wine and cheese and dried meat and fruit. So light a fire. Tonight we're going to eat well."
    About three hundred men, women, and children had come through the battle unhurt. Hearing Flint's words, they broke into cheers. Jamie joined in. He knew that if Scott had been here, he would have found the food. That was how he had always been, scavenging for himself and Jamie whenever anything was needed. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that Scott and Flint were one and the same —just as he and Sapling were more or less identical. It was impossible, of course. But then, so was everything else.
    The survivors must have been as weary as Jamie but somehow they found new strength. First they made a great bonfire out of scattered weapons, branches from the forest, and their own catapult, which they dismantled and fed to the flames. They spread out cloths and carpets in front of the tents. Then they unloaded the wagons and distributed the supplies, making sure the injured weren't forgotten. Soon what had been a field of death suddenly became the scene of a huge, open-air banquet beneath a sky that was full of stars.
    A