The Moon Chose Me Twice
Charlie
The map of the territory is spread across the heavy oak table in Kaleb’s war room.
It’s a topography of my childhood. The ridges I ran along, the rivers I swam in, the dense pine forests of the Silverwood borders.
But the markers Valerius is placing on the map aren't memories. They’re tombstones.
"This came in from our spy posted at the ravine," Valerius says, sliding a grainy, printed photograph across the wood. "Taken at dawn yesterday."