Sometimes, deep down, I am scared I was wrong.

Then, I get back out of bed and continue my work.

LoG, 182

Two thousand Vigil soldiers swayed slowly forward like a turtle that was not hurrying anywhere. The Lagad military moved towards Begi with leisure and inevitability, often stopping for rest and tactical viewing of the landscape.

Squinty wondered whether this rhythm made it easier or more difficult for her. In front of the army, there was a mass of half-naked, sweaty people.

The Wellers.

She wasn't sure how many Wellers went with the central part of the division, and how many remained in their homes to wait for the second wave. Squinty observed them with childish curiosity she could not suppress.

The Orphanage cut us off from the outside world. I only saw Wellers in the book drawings. Still, neither the picture nor the word can replace the phenomenon, Squinty concluded, staring at the infantry of the army of Lagad.

Why were they mobilised? Why did they respond? I thought they were free and unburdened. Living somewhere underground, following their own rules. And yet, they are unmistakably here, ready to lie down their lives at the smallest sign of the new Leader.

Men and women of the most diverse ages and sexes breathed as one as they slithered forward. They donned a symbolic brown apron, which replaced their typical black-coloured ones. The Wellers also brandished various weapons. They determined the rhythm of the march like the uniform wave of the human organism. It was a cavalry vanguard.

They are so fearless and determined to perform first in battle while refusing any protective armour.

"What is it? You are awful silent, just staring at those Mole Men," Odon's voice reached her and Squinty overturned her eyes. Afterwards, she merely glanced at him, deciding not to dignify him with a comment.

Him again.

She hated how the cavalry was split into the lancers, the front rowers and the shooters. This meant the march had to mimic their positioning strictly. Odon and her were both short distance fighters, seeing how he used an axe, and she used the daggers. Therefore, Squinty had to endure Odon during the entire Light and sleep near him in the holes they'd previously dug when The Dark appeared.

She now saw Orla only during the breaks for rest and dining. Squinty missed Orla quite a lot even though she would never admit it. Any conversation was more interesting than Odon's constant mocking and bragging.

I am so great with an axe, look at me! Oh, they finally allowed me to bring my armour with me! It looks so magnificent on me!

Squinty remembered the day they left Lagad. The long, forlorn procession stretched across the winding streets followed by the murmurs of the locals and the occasional female yowl. The parents of the youngest Vigils were there as well, saying goodbye to them. Only she felt strangely alone. Displaced from the human racket.

Squinty didn't belong to anyone. She had no parents. As if through the fog, she recalled the anxious look on the short, skinny woman who must have been Odon's mother.

Odon himself seemed sad, but he tried to conceal it, Squinty thought as she squeezed Grizzly's body with her thighs. She felt safe with her dog.

"Aww, Squinty. You seem to have the crush on one of The Wellers. I can't blame you, they don't look half as bad without shirts," Odon insisted with a smirk, pulling her out of her inner thoughts.

Squinty blurted out vindictively: "It's important that you noticed how they look without a shirt," before separating a bit from him.

The march was sufficiently monotonous and tiring, even without commencing the petty squabbles with Odon. They had already argued several times because Onyx was continually approaching closer to Squinty to sniff her. It had been happening ever since the episode at The Bathhouse. Squinty could tell Odon didn't like it at all.

He probably thinks he is losing her loyalty and obedience. I should ask Radan whether that is true, Squinty thought. It just means she became more bound to me on that day I rode her. But I am sure Onyx still belongs to Odon. That slime-ball has nothing to worry about.

Moccasins cut deep into Squinty's bare feet. The leather armour on her chest felt prickly and painful. Unaccustomed to the complete equipment, and longing for the lightweight training uniform of The Barrack 1, Squinty was uncomfortable.

The dog beneath her was leaning left and right because of the accumulated fatigue. Squinty caressed his back as if encouraging him. Then she touched the two bone daggers she always wore by the belt and smiled ominously.

They're here. Like her dog, they gave her a sense of security.

Squinty glanced upwards towards The Vault and shook recalling the birds made of an unknown, solid material. The birds from whose eyes the beams of red light burst out to stop people in The City of Lagad.

It was as if they were looking for something. That day, when it happened, I needed to be with Grizzly. Luckily, they hurt nobody. They fell upon us from The Vault where products of The Mind and The Fount come from.

Squinty sighed, reprimanding herself. Don't think about it. If the birds appear again, you will be ready. You will see how you will react. It would be good if we could bring them down with slingshots. She knew deep within her that something like that would probably not be possible.

The paved road water, clothing and spice traders used waggled from Lagad to Begi. The army followed it persistently. The Vigils marched behind The Wellers. They adjusted the rhythm of their advancement to the military Vanguard. The blend of the lancers, the close-up attackers and the shooters wore identical leather armours. They were all clad in hide moccasins.

Weapons made of wood, stone and bones composed of lances, one-handed swords, daggers, axes and flails. Shooters were equipped with slingshots and bows. Half of the people belonged to The Wellers, and the other half was evenly distributed among The Vigils as close-up fighters and distance fighters.

On the sides, Radan and Wolfgrik rode proudly, dressed in the same brown colours of The City of Lagad. Wolfgrik marched conceitedly, somehow keeping pace with the others. The Weapons Trainer was occasionally panting but still categorically refusing to climb up on The War Dog. Radan sometimes rode his light-brown big animal and sometimes flew above them all, provoking mixed reactions of mockery and admiration among The Vigils. There was something at the same time stunning and grotesque in this fluttering, solemn little man.

Several serious soldiers were carrying drums which they rhythmically hit, supporting the march. At their belts, they wore horns, ready to announce a break at the sign of their Leader. At the very head stood the new Leader of The City of Lagad.

Prince Borna.

He himself proudly carried a flag with a painted mushroom in his hand, letting no one else take over. Borna's eyes had a crazy glow. His hair was twisted in three long braids, and he wore a flat bone helmet in the shape of a mushroom on his head. He covered his entire face with a leather mask. This made his gaze even scarier. No one knew what kind of facial expression hid behind the camouflage. His drooling greyhound with bloodshot eyes reared up on its hind legs, then came to a sudden halt.

The army could now see a pale, bony hand raise lazily, extending all five fingers.

As per command, a several dozen horns flew from the belts and burst into an elegiac elongated sound. "Ceease advaaance! Ceeease advance! Dig! Dig!" droning voices reverberated from one weary soldier to another.

The seemingly unstoppable, menacing centipede curled down on the floor and came to an absolute standstill.

The Dark was about to descend upon them.

Squinty took a gulp of dirty water from a wooden flask and offered some to Grizzly, along with a bite of dried meat. Then she silently grabbed a shovel and started digging a hole in the ground, following the example of the surrounding fellow soldiers. She would soon spend an entire Dark in that crevice, huddled next to her warm furry dog, Squinty knew.

A waxlike paper-thin hand lightly fluttered on Squinty's shoulder. She cracked a half-smile. Even without turning around, she immediately guessed who the invader of her personal space was.

"That was some fast digging, if you are already here," Squinty muttered.

"Jewel helped me. He is such a dear. I was trying hard not to lose the sight of you as we rode," Orla admitted with a sheepish grin. "Finally, a deserved break," she went on chattering. "Jewel was already getting sleepy, I could tell. How is Grizzly?"

"Fine." Squinty said curtly, with a hint of pride in her voice, spitting in a hole she just dug. "He could have walked more, without a problem."

Jewel and Grizzly happily sniffed each other as a sign of recognition and then ran off somewhere in a game of a tag.

The yellow campfires were being set up, burning mirthfully.

"The Final Rest?" wondered the feeble girl.

"Maybe," Squinty hesitated to provide an answer. "We aren't the rich who hold The Viewstone in their possession," she lied. "I guess the campfires are the only thing that can guide us. When they are on, it means The Dark is about to descend."

Massive black paws interrupted her hugging her from behind.

"Onyx," Squinty muttered, pleased but wary since she knew what followed.

"Damn you," Odon huffed coming to stand right next to the two girls.

Squinty absently caressed Onyx's snout.

"She seems to be more of your dog than mine now," Odon growled.

"You know that's not true," Squinty retorted. "She just came to say hi."

"What were you going on about campfires, anyway?" his look was suspicious.

"Why do you care?" Orla was openly hostile towards Odon ever since The Bathhouse.

"I don't," he went red in the face. "Get over it, will you?"

"Get over what?" now it was Orla's turn to become crimson-cheeked.

"You know what. It was just a stupid prank," he insisted. "Anyway, it was dumb of them to light them," Odon added offhandedly.

Squinty looked up. "The campfires provide illumination when The Light is gone. And they keep the animals away during The Dark."

Her voice was patient and mocking at the same time, underlining every word as if she were talking to a child.

"They also betray our position to The Tartan Village and The Tartan Tower." Odon was persistent.

"They know we are coming for them anyway," Squinty was calm. "Seeing our fires just increases fear in them."

Odon said nothing at that, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

"I wonder how it's going to be for us," Orla trembled a bit. She was clutching her simple shabby slingshot and jealously admiring wood and bone recurved bows some of her fellow soldiers brandished. "Our first battle. Are we going to ... You know ... Kill someone?" her voice lowered all of a sudden as if in reverence towards her newfound power to give and take a life of another human being.

"We are at war, Orla. There is bound to be a lot of killing on both sides. And when everything is over, no one will remember how it all started," Squinty sighed. "Why did you even join The Vigils in the first place?"

Odon leaned forward to hear better.

"I ... I didn't really want to." Orla started explaining, her voice shaky. "My father ... You know how there are three types of Vigils?"

"Everyone knows that," Odon scoffed. "After we finish The Apprenticeship, we can become either Leader Guards, City Guards or Merchant Guards. I always wanted to be a City Guard, myself. What about you two?"

"A Merchant Guard," Squinty replied briefly.

Accompanying the merchants to The River Tebesum. Travelling, and seeing more of The Squareworld. Now it seems that that dream will never come true.

"My father wanted me to become a Leader Guard," Orla added in sotto voce.

"You? The Leader Guard?" Odon burst out into laughter. "I can't imagine you guarding our Prince Borna. You are scared of your own shadow and incredibly insecure."

"Well, I got chosen by a War Dog, didn't I?" Orla stood up, her hands on her hips. Her voice obtained a sharper, more defensive tone. "And I am here now. I will try to make my family proud and do the best I can. Even if I don't like it. I promised I would."

"Yeah, don't set any long-term goals, blondie. First thing's first. Try not to shit your pretty leather pants during your first battle," Odon was rough. "Then you would have to take them off in front of everyone to change, and we can't have that, can we?" Those the last words he said before leaving towards a commotion that was now forming on their left, Onyx at his heels.

"Don't pay attention to him," Squinty was brief, as Orla clenched her fists and nodded. "That's what he wants, so don't give in. Let's avoid him."

The Dark enveloped them without warning like a snug black cloth. Both girls started blinking, trying to adjust to the newly gained blindness. They came closer to each other, longing for their dogs' return.

"No matter how many times The Light shifts into The Dark, it always gives me an eerie feeling. Like something isn't quite right, you know? As if it has been ... Forced upon us," Orla whispered. "It's silly, I know," she added apologetically.

Squinty understood her. She needed to stop thinking about it all and to focus on something else. The upcoming battle seemed like a perfectly fine excuse.

Anything, just not to see the birds' red eyes anymore. This isn't what I expected. I admired The Vigils and their training. But I could never have imagined we would join an outright war. For someone else's cause. The cause that means nothing to me. For a piece of land. But where there is a fight, there is a commotion, Squinty thought. And a perfect way to vanish out of sight. Which I will do. Soon.

Noticing Orla's nervousness, Squinty engaged her into conversation yet again. "Your eyesight is better than mine," she stated matter-of-factly. "Do you see anything ahead of us, in The Dark? Is The Tartan Tower near?"

"There are many miles between The Tartan Tower and us," Orla said, straining her eyes. "I can only discern a tall, dark shape ahead, thanks to the campfire lights but ... I think that ... We must march an entire Light still, and perhaps we will arrive there before the Second Dark."

"I wonder if they will send a vanguard to slow us down," said Squinty more to herself as Orla was now profusely sweating, probably thinking about the upcoming encounter. "Last Dark I heard Prince Borna..." she corrected herself with a mocking tone of voice, "our Great Leader Borna say we need to win this battle. The village will provide us with provisions, and The Tartan Tower is a good strategic position to conquer anyway as we move on towards Begi. He also said something about getting more weapons from The Mountain and convincing them to fight on our side."

"I don't think that will ever happen," Orla shook her head. "The Mountaineers have never sided with anyone, that's what my father says. They do sell weapons to everyone for profit, but it is not in their nature to take sides."

"I understand them," Squinty affirmed. "Why go to war and die when you can sit back at home getting rich; selling arms of destruction to the idiots who want to kill each other?"

"Still," Orla sighed dreamily, "it would be lovely to see their flying airships in action." Then she suddenly shifted her gaze towards Squinty, eyeing her suspiciously. "Where exactly did you hear all this?"

Squinty wasn't about to admit to Orla that she regularly visits the mini-war councils held in the main tent. The eavesdropping on Borna, Radan and Wolfgrik had become somewhat of a habit of hers.

The upheaval to their left was becoming louder and louder.

"Some Vigils were discussing it over The Second Meal today. What is happening over there?" Squinty motioned, abruptly changing the topic.

"For one, we know Odon just went in that direction," Orla harrumphed. "I really don't want to go and check it out."

"But ... It seems like some kind of argument broke out," Squinty was curious.

A salvo of swearing voices and shouts reached their ears, becoming stronger and stronger.

It was a buzzing not unlike the one of the annoying swarm just before the honey bee colony lashes out viciously and stings a person to death.

When Squinty and Orla approached the enclosed circle, they distinctly heard the bored, drawn-out tone of Leader Borna's voice. He stood over one of The Vigils, who was now kneeling in the dirt.

Squinty froze noticing the yellow spots around Vigil's mouth.

He has been taking strot.

"The punishment for possession of strot is death," Borna stated.