The March. First Day. Late Afternoon.
The column stretched for half a mile.
Soldiers in their units, supplies on wagons, scouts ranging ahead and behind. The rhythm of movement was familiar to anyone who'd marched before—the steady crunch of boots on frozen ground, the creak of wheels, the muttered conversations that filled the spaces between.
Grog walked near the middle.
His place in the column didn't matter—he was just another soldier, one of hundreds. But he watched everything. The faces. The formations. The way the officers positioned themselves. The small details that would matter when things went wrong.
The sun moved west. The shadows lengthened. The column pressed on.
And then they passed a tree.
---
It was nothing special.
Just an old oak, twisted by years, standing alone at a bend in the road. Bare branches reaching toward gray sky. Snow gathered in its crooks.
Grog stopped.
Stared.
The column flowed around him like water around a stone. Soldiers glanced at him, then away—everyone had their moments. No one asked.
He stood there for a long time.
Lira noticed. Dropped back.
"Grog?"
He didn't answer.
She followed his gaze to the tree. Saw nothing unusual. Just an oak. Just snow. Just—
"The old timeline," Grog said quietly. "There was a tree like this. Near a village. We stopped there once. Resting. Waiting for orders." His voice was distant. "Theron sat under it. Made jokes about the shape of the branches. Said they looked like a dancing bear."
Lira smiled despite herself. "That sounds like him."
"Three days later, that village burned. Theron pulled six people from the flames. Saved their lives." Grog's jaw tightened. "He never talked about it. Never mentioned it again. Just went back to making stupid jokes."
The column continued past them. Soldiers moved on. The world kept turning.
Grog stood still.
"That village is out there somewhere," he said. "Right now. Still standing. Still full of people who don't know what's coming."
Lira felt something shift in her chest.
"You're thinking about warning them."
"Not just them." Grog turned from the tree. Looked east, toward where the Vargr had gone. "The old timeline, I was just a soldier. Followed orders. Fought where they told me. Watched people die because I didn't know enough to stop it."
He looked at Lira.
"I know things now. Where the attacks will come. When. Who will live and who will die if nothing changes." He paused. "I've been sitting on that knowledge. Training. Waiting. Hoarding it like it might spoil."
Lira said nothing.
"No more."
---
He found Aldric that evening, when the column stopped to make camp.
Aldric was helping with tents—ordinary work, the kind that filled every soldier's evening. He looked up when Grog approached. Saw something in his face.
"You've got that look," Aldric said.
"What look?"
"The one you get before you do something annoying." He gestured with a tent stake. "Spit it out."
Grog almost smiled. Almost.
"I'm leaving. For a few weeks."
Aldric's hands stopped moving. He set down the stake carefully.
"Leaving leaving? Or like, 'going to scout ahead' leaving?"
"The first one."
Aldric was quiet for a moment. Then he picked up the stake again and went back to work.
"Okay."
"That's it?"
"What do you want me to say? Don't go? You'll go anyway." He hammered the stake into frozen ground. "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met. If you've decided something, it's decided."
Grog watched him work.
In the old timeline, Aldric had been different. Softer. He'd have argued, pleaded, made a whole production out of it. This Aldric just... accepted. Trusted.
"You've changed," Grog said.
"Yeah, well." Aldric gestured vaguely at himself. "Training with Mirena does that. She beats the dramatics out of you."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment.
Then Aldric stopped. Looked at Grog directly.
"You're going to do something with all that knowledge you've been carrying, aren't you? The old timeline stuff."
Grog nodded.
"Good." Aldric sat on a supply crate. "I've been wondering when you'd stop just training us and start actually using what you know."
"You're not worried?"
"About what?"
"Me being gone. Things happening while I'm away."
Aldric considered this.
"A little," he admitted. "But here's the thing—you've been carrying us since day one. Training. Watching. Planning. We've gotten strong because of you." He met Grog's eyes. "But at some point, we have to be strong on our own. Can't have you around forever."
Grog felt something loosen in his chest.
"You sound like a leader."
Aldric blinked. "What?"
"A leader. Someone people follow." Grog studied him. "In the old timeline, you had that. Even before everything went wrong. People believed in you because you believed in them."
Aldric looked uncomfortable. "I'm just trying not to die."
"No. You're more than that." Grog sat on the crate beside him. "You're going to gather people around you. Good people. Lira. Mirena. Theron. Others I haven't met yet. You're going to form something special."
Aldric stared at him.
"A team," Grog continued. "Not just soldiers. Family. People who'd die for each other." He paused. "I've seen it. It's worth fighting for."
The word hung between them.
Family.
Aldric was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "You really saw that? In the old timeline?"
"Yes."
"And we were happy? Before the end?"
Grog thought about it. The years of adventure. The laughter around campfires. The way they'd fit together like pieces of something larger.
"Yes," he said. "Happy doesn't cover it. We were alive. Really alive."
Aldric nodded slowly.
"Then we'll get that again. This time. But without the ending." He looked at Grog. "You just have to come back so you can be part of it."
Grog felt something warm in his chest. Not the stone—something else.
"I will," he said.
"Good." Aldric stood. Brushed snow from his pants. "Now go do whatever mysterious thing you're going to do. I have tents to finish and Mirena will kill me if I'm late for training tomorrow."
Grog stood too.
"Aldric."
"Yeah?"
"You're going to be a great hero. Better than last time. I believe that."
Aldric's face did something complicated. Embarrassment. Pride. Gratitude. All tangled together.
"Thanks," he managed. "Now really go. Before this gets weird."
Grog almost laughed. Almost.
He turned and walked toward the edge of camp.
---
Lira found him there.
"You're really doing this."
"Yes."
"Without telling anyone where or why?"
"Yes."
She studied him. Then, unexpectedly, grinned.
"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be all mysterious and brooding, you're actually pretty predictable."
Grog raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"You get that look. The 'I'm about to do something heroic and stupid' look. Aldric gets it too." She crossed her arms. "Go. Do your thing. We'll hold down the fort."
Grog nodded.
"Lira."
"Yeah?"
"You're the best scout I've ever known. In two timelines." He paused. "Don't die."
Her grin softened into something real.
"Same to you, barbarian."
She hugged him. Quick and fierce. Then stepped back.
"Now go. Before I change my mind and try to stop you."
Grog turned and walked into the trees.
---
Mirena watched from a distance.
Aldric joined her as Grog disappeared into darkness.
"He's gone," Aldric said.
"Yes."
"You're not worried?"
Mirena considered the question.
"He's carried more than any of us for longer than any of us. If he needs to do this, he needs to do it." She paused. "Besides, he'll come back. He's too stubborn not to."
Aldric nodded slowly.
They stood together at the edge of camp, watching the trees where their friend had vanished.
"So," Aldric said after a while, "training tomorrow?"
"Before dawn."
"Figured."
He turned and walked toward his tent.
Mirena stayed a moment longer, staring into the darkness.
Then she followed.