As volunteers streamed into the Monument, Joia did her best to estimate numbers and figure out whether she would hit her target. The dawn light grew stronger, more people arrived, and she began to think she would succeed.
 
 Then she saw Dee in the crowd. That bucked her up. With Dee on the mission, there would be many opportunities to talk. Joiawould have a chance to put matters right. She would apologize abjectly and beg to be allowed to start again. She would not hesitate to humiliate herself. The rest of her life hung on this.
 
 Volunteers were still arriving when the sun rose. Joia, feeling cheerier now, decided to set off right away. It would take time to get so many people moving. Latecomers could join the tail end.
 
 She led. They would not follow anyone else.
 
 Last summer Joia had walked beside Dee. Today Dee was somewhere in the crowd behind, and Joia was walking with Jara.
 
 All morning they followed the East River under a hot summer sun, and they reached the village of Upriver at midday. Joia and Jara and many others crowded into the river to cool off. As they rested in the clear water, Jara looked back at the route they had traveled and said: “The farmers won’t attack here, beside the river. It would be a bad choice for a battlefield.”
 
 “Why’s that?” Joia asked.
 
 “The land rises on the other side of the path. The only flat area is the path itself. There’s no space to fight.”
 
 Joia found that convincing. Jara probably spent a lot of time talking with her family about battles, especially the two occasions when the Monument had been attacked.
 
 When they moved off again, they turned away from the river into a wide stretch of grassland being grazed by the herd. Joia said: “It’s like this until we reach the North Hills.”
 
 “Gently sloping and unobstructed,” Jara said. “This will be our danger zone.”
 
 At suppertime in Stony Valley, Joia saw Dee sitting alone, in a bed of oxeye daisies, under one of the few trees that Seft had not felled. Joia took her beef and sat next to Dee without asking.
 
 Unluckily, a young woman chose to sit near them, looking as if she wanted to chat. “That’s a long walk!” she said.
 
 “Indeed,” said Joia.
 
 Dee said nothing.
 
 The woman looked at them, realizing she was not welcome. “Oh,” she said, “you’re Joia.” She looked at Dee. “And you’re the one who fascinated Joia on the last trip.” She got up. “I will leave you two alone.”
 
 Joia said: “I’m sorry if we’ve been unfriendly.”
 
 The woman did not seem to mind.
 
 As she walked away, Joia said to Dee: “Thank you for joining in the mission. Last night you said you’d think about it. I’m glad you decided to come.”
 
 Dee did not reply, but looked at her expectantly.
 
 Joia said: “I’m bitterly sorry for what I did to you. I didn’t intend it, but it seems that makes no difference.”
 
 Dee seemed to agree with that, though she did not say anything.
 
 “I do love you,” Joia said, “even though I failed to show it. But now at least I’ve said it.”
 
 Dee spoke at last. “Yes,” she said, “at least you’ve said it.” And with that she got up and walked away.
 
 Joia wanted to scream. She could not figure out what Dee wanted, and Dee would not tell her.
 
 She was determined not to cry. She was the leader and had to be strong. She took a deep breath and stood up, dry-eyed. She beganto walk around the valley, talking to the volunteers. “How do you feel? A bit tired? Me, too. Get some sleep! Be ready for tomorrow.” She could see that many of them were forming couples, and she guessed they might not get a full night’s sleep, no matter what she said.
 
 Jara set up a night watch in case of a sneak raid by the farmers. She stationed volunteers on the outskirts of the camp, in pairs to stop one another falling asleep.
 
 The sun set, and in the dusk Joia looked for a place to sleep. Her eye fell again on Dee, already lying down.
 
 Joia lay facing her.
 
 Dee opened her eyes but said nothing.