Sam

Will went to the door and called the man through—an old, gnarled Level 13 Explorer with a thick mane of snow-white hair tied back in a loose tail, and a beard so long it nearly reached his navel. He wore rags so caked with dirt and soot that it was nearly impossible to make out the rough fabric underneath, and his leathery feet were bare.

The old man hobbled in with several other freemen who appeared deferent to him. Will kept the hangers-on at the far end of the room with a simple gesture, and only the old man was allowed to approach the bed. Coming up beside Sam, he settled into a deep squat so they were of a height rather than take the empty chair. Despite his advanced age, he rested easily on his heels.

"Ah, there you are," he said. "Our good savior."

"Here I am," Sam replied with a tired laugh.

Will lingered near the wall just one long stride behind the old man. Hovering, she realized, out of some protective instinct, wanting to stay close in case he needed to step between her and the freeman. Cute.

"What's your name?" she asked the old man.

"Cutty." He grinned, showing swollen gums studded with only a scattering of brown teeth that only looked more decrepit against the brightness of his facial hair.

"He's something like an unofficial leader to the miners," Will explained. "These guys with him are the lesser elders."

She nodded. "Right. I was under the impression that taskmasters don't like their slaves too strong so they're easy to control, but you're all the way at Level 13. How come?"

"Oh, I'm sure they woulda gotten rid of me ages ago, 'cept for the fact I was good at keeping the peace among the miners—made sure things ran smooth. Less hassle for them, less ouchie-hurty for us."

"Right, right. Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Cutty. I'm Sam—not Fireheart, I'm afraid."

Cutty laughed—a deep, rich, almost attractive sound that belonged on a man at least a few decades younger. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry about all that business back there. It just… came out, y'see."

"I mean, it's fine. I'm just wondering why you'd call me that. Will says it's kind of an obscure name these days."

"I suppose it is at that. But I'm no spring chicken, no ma'am—I was around in the good old days, and when those ended I was around to see the Coalition, too. Hell, I joined up and all! I might not look it much now, but I was a regular salute-the-flag type back then. Fireheart, ah yes… Firecracker's more like it! Ha! She was quite the looker, yes she was." He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Ah, but I guess that's not the important bit. Sorry and all, ma'am, on account of my mind don't work how it used to—scattered, yes, scattered.

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"Point is, Fireheart was one of the good ones. A symbol of hope. When she died, I despaired for a second time. I've lived a long old time without any hope but to see the next day. Probably would have ended it all years ago if not for all these youngsters that need told how not to get themselves killed so much." He nodded toward his companions. They were no spring chickens themselves—Sam didn't think any of them could be under fifty.

"When I saw you fight," Cutty went on, raking his fingers through his beard, "I thought of her straight away. The way you face danger head-on, how you work to save people, sure, but I think most importantly…" He gave a big, gummy grin. "...it's that smile o' yours. It's the type that says everythin's gonna be allllll right. Just like hers.

"So I'm sorry for putting that name on you, Sam Darling. That said, I think it suits you. Maybe you can give our city some hope the way she did."

Sam thought about it for a second, then nodded, smiling. "You know what, Cutty? I think 'Fireheart' has a ring to it. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll hang onto the name for now. I just hope I'll prove worthy of it."

"I'm sure you will, ma'am. I'm sure I'm sure." With a hand on his lower back, Cutty rose to his full height. He motioned to his awkwardly silent companions. "Now, with all that preamble out the way, there's something me and the youngins want to say to you."

Cutty bent at the waist, sweeping his beard over one shoulder as he bowed low. The other freemen quickly followed suit. "Thank you, Lady Fireheart," he said, echoed by the others in quiet murmurs. "For saving us, and for giving us hope."

Sam managed an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing at her sore head. "Oh, it was no trouble. Feel free to call on me whenever you got some asshole who needs a good piledriver."

After a bit of small talk, Will ushered the freemen back outside, citing Sam's need for rest. He shut the door firmly behind him, and took a seat in his chair with his book resting open in his lap. "You go ahead and get some sleep," he said, turning the page. "I'll stay up and keep an eye on you."

"You should sleep too…" Sam pouted. She could tell he was tired. Exhausted, really.

"I wouldn't fall asleep even if I tried. At least this way, I can get something done."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Aw, 'kay." She pulled her covers higher and wriggled her shoulders to get into a more comfortable position in the bed. Hearing the whisper of Will turning another page, she said: "Whatcha reading?"

"It's a book on the Shores of Awakening," Will replied, poking his stiff paper bookmark against his top lip. "Riveting stuff, really."

She couldn't tell if that was meant to be sarcastic or not.

"You should read to me so I can fall asleep."

Will sighed. "Fine. But I'm not starting over from the beginning."

"Psh."

He started reading aloud. Sam didn't pay much attention to any of the nonsense he was saying, but his voice had a greatly calming effect, and she soon found her eyes sliding shut. Filled with a sense of softness and wellbeing, she couldn't help but feel…

…that everything was going to be okay.

[Sometimes foreshadowing is relatively obvious.]

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