Chapter Forty
Clare's POV — The Silent March
The town of Wilson had never felt so quiet.
I stood near the window of our house, watching the snow fall softly over the dark streets. Lanterns flickered here and there, but most homes had already gone to sleep.
At least… that's what it looked like.
In reality, many doors were opening silently.
Women stepped outside carefully, carrying small bags and bundles. Some held the hands of their daughters, while others walked beside their friends.
No shouting.
No panic.
Just quiet determination.
Behind me, my mother finished tying her cloak.
"Are you sure about this, Clare?" she asked gently.
I turned toward her.
"If we stay silent, nothing will ever change."
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"Then we walk together."
We stepped outside.
Cold air touched my face as snowflakes drifted around us. Down the street, more women were joining the road quietly.
Some recognized me and gave small nods.
Word had spread quickly after I spoke with a few of my friends earlier that evening.
The message was simple:
If Wilson refuses to educate women, we will go where education is allowed.
And that place was France.
Soon the road leading out of the town began to fill.
Young students.
Mothers.
Daughters.
Workers.
Hundreds of women walking together under the winter sky.
I felt both nervous and proud at the same time.
One of the younger girls tugged my sleeve.
"Clare… will we really reach France?"
I smiled softly.
"Yes."
She looked relieved.
"Will we study there?"
"That's the plan."
She squeezed her bag tightly and continued walking.
The snow-covered road stretched ahead of us like a pale ribbon in the darkness.
Behind us, the kingdom of Wilson slept peacefully, unaware of what was happening.
By morning, everything would be different.
The kitchens would be empty.
Markets would be quiet.
Homes would feel strangely silent.
And somewhere inside the palace, the Queen would wake up to the news that the women of Wilson had vanished overnight.
I took one last look at the town behind us.
Then I turned forward.
"Let's go," I said softly.
And under the falling snow, the women of Wilson began their long journey toward France.
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