MARCHELINE counts down from five.

From the cloudy view, there's a straw hut with its door and lone window wide open, young trees darkening every corner of the tableau. The sky is red, and there's a redheaded boy, aged six or seven, standing in the middle of the dirt path. The path itself leads to the scene of a village on fire.

The ground is cold and damp beneath her palms. She could feel the itchy, pointy tips of her black hair brushing against her face. Her sweaty clothes cling to her back. Small pebbles dig into her bare feet.

There's a tide of screaming voices, that redheaded boy is wailing out, too. The sound of crumbling houses is softer than she thought they'd be, but the sound of a sword thrusting into flesh is crunchier than expected.

The air smells of smoke, another whiff carries the sweet scent of burnt fruit.

Marcheline suddenly tastes the salt from her own tears.

———————

"Miss? Miss! Wake up!" a concerned voice comes from her right, a middle-aged woman's. Marcheline opens her eyes to the worried face of one of her carriage companions, Sue, if she remembers correctly.

"I-…" there're thee pairs of eyes looking at her, amidst the cramped piles and piles of luggage they've been squeezed together. Her brain sluggishly kicks into gear, shoving down the mortification of having strangers see her cry, "b-bad dream."

"It's alright, we also had to leave our home because of the monsters." The same woman nods towards her younger sister, Harry or Arry or whatever her name is. This one is hugging a sleeping girl.

"'Grulierre Outpost has fallen, run, flee.'" Emily, their last companion, murmurs sadly the message they've all presumably seen, written in the sky, cast by one of their kingdom's mage as a warning to all who live in the remote settlements near the outskirts of their territory.

A sniffle, then, "We had to leave our farm. My daughter was looking forward to the strawberries." Harry says (Marcheline thinks it's probably short for something, because 'Arry' is a stupid name).

Marcheline only nods. She was looking forward to their little village's harvest too. Now they all had to upend their lives and flee to the capital.

She barely managed to get a ride for herself and her bunny, considering her meager belongings wouldn't really be a problem for this particular carriage.

These women are from a homestead two hours' walk away from where she lives, and she asked for a ride in exchange for some children's toys.

The village chief and her staff had to secure transportation not only for the rest of the residents, but also for the provisions that everyone worked for. They should be heading to the capital in a day or two as a caravan, along with the other settlers, and will be much slower for it.

Marcheline volunteered to go first and secure their accommodations. Or at least a permit to set camp. She winces as she remembers how they don't have money. They barter. They don't have the kingdom's legal tender this far from capital.

No doubt other people would be flocking to the Capital City of Aberron, soon.

She takes a look at her companions' belongings. Well-crafted suitcases and a lace here and there. Their village's guy, Erik, who had been trading with these women, told her that they built their home when Harry's soldier husband was stationed at Grulierre. She noticed Sue and Emily have been avoiding to mention the husband's name. The carriage itself is driven not by Harry's husband, but by his friend, one of the soldiers tasked to escort the commoners to the Capital.

Marcheline considers it a bit, then starts, "I was wondering, once we get to Aberron, if I'd be allowed to sell some herbs? I don't want to be tossed to prison for illegal trade or…?" she thinks about the dangerous plants that grew near her house, their dried samples in one of her secret pockets. Best not to mention it.

They pass the time talking about the laws in the Capital. Not talking about the horde of monsters advancing, or if said monsters have scouts that could spot their friends and acquaintances.

———————

A week later, their carriage finds itself lining up at the Capital's northern gates. Their soldier friend Nate is confirming their identity with the city guards, with Marcheline at the carriage reigns (they've been taking turns to drive, she learnt along the way). He looks at their group and sends them a tired smile. Blushing when Marcheline returned it with her own.

"We're all good to go in," he says, "but March needs to register at the City Hall — you said you don't have your documents?" Marcheline makes the horses walk at a slow trot through the tunnel-like entrance, Nate and Emily walking alongside, happy to freely move around.

"Me and half a dozen of my friends back in the village. Thankfully, some of us have birth records before all— all—…" she trails off as the view of capital enters her eyes.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" Emily says, noting the wide-eyed look of her companion.

A decade-old memory clicks into her brain.

She had seen this view before. On a tablet screen, sometimes on a phone. Before she woke up in this savage world, before she died back on Earth. Holy, holy-

End Chapter