Beyond the Cleave

One of Rutherford's scouts returned – he was one of the ones who had drunk the Brightlake concoction, the one that gave strength to the spirit, and lessened the poison of the lands north of the Cleave. He had suffered, true, but he came to us in right mind, and – to our amazement – smiling. “They're not just what we once were,” he said. “They're still like us. I've seen beyond the fortifications – they have farms. Towns. Even what might be a church, at the summit of the mountain!” The men mumbled their surprise, but I was the first to speak in anger – I held my tongue, to give the man some moments of peace to enjoy his return, but his words angered me beyond all reason. I shall walk, collect my thoughts – this fool of a scout, he does not know the truth in what he saw. If we have not yet lost this war, the sighting of the church has done so, whether the soldiers realize it or not. -L.G., Acting Captain