Turning the Storm by Naomi Kritzer

ill. There isn't much you can do for dysentery but wait it out. Most of the Lupi were reasonably healthy after a summer of constant travel and reasonable rations, so I expected most to pull through, but an army that's up to its knees in runny shit is not exactly a fitfighting force. We'd have to wait until the worst of the illness was past.
    I was not among the ones taken ill; I've always had a stomach of cast iron. Giovanni apparently did too, as he also stayed healthy. Lucia was struck down, though, and I spent a few days nursing her, giving her sips of cooled tea in between bullying the healthy Lupi into digging fresh latrines and covering over the filthy ones. We lost about two weeks to the illness. I'd have waited longer, but I'd seen our food stores and knew that we were almost out of time.
    Still, as a concession to Giovanni's fears, as well as to the weakness of some of the Lupi who were only just beginning to recover, I left a detachment behind in the wasteland, under Tomas's leadership. This made an excellent excuse to keep Vitale, the youngest of the Lupi, out of danger. I decided that Felice could stay there, too. Though he had been a surprisingly patient teacher, and useful in councils, he had yet to make himself useful during an actual battle. And he'd had a particularly bad case of dysentery. The wasteland detachment could join us in Pluma once we'd secured the town, and at Giovanni's insistence, I agreed that we'd discuss dividing our army at that point. I wanted my troops to have a real victory under their belt, a real accomplishment. After two weeks shitting in the mud, we needed something to lift morale.
    As we rode north, the land came back to life even as the plants were dying for the winter. The weeds were brown, the flowers gone to seed; we could let the horses forage now, which eased the burden on our food stores a great deal. The Lupi stared open-mouthed at the climbing weeds, the thistles, the last of the autumn wildflowers. I told myself that I remembered what grassand flowers looked like, but I couldn't help staring at the creeping bug that startled me, crawling up my leg during dinner.
    The first night we slept in a meadow again, Lucia celebrated a special Mass, leading us all in the dance to celebrate the fertility of the land. It was danced in the spring planting season, she said, and at the harvest. It seemed appropriate. I thought about asking her for a dance to ask God to hold off the coming of real winter; I desperately hoped we could be done with what we were doing by the time winter came, although I was doubtful about our chances. Camping in our flimsy tents on bitter winter nights could easily kill half our army without the Circle Guard ever taking a shot at us. If we needed to, we could send people off to the resettled towns, but I feared that the Circle would hunt us down over the winter months—and if they didn't, people would grow comfortable, reluctant to leave their new homes and families in the spring.
    We moved a little slowly the first full day back in green Verdia, staring at the trees and the bugs and the sparrows. We let our horses forage, and cut some real tent poles. I called a halt early in the day to let people relax a little, and sat down under a tree to practice my violin, with Michel standing watch nearby. Just as I started to unlace the ties of my violin case, I heard hooves crashing through the brush. I looked up to see Vitale throw himself off the horse.
    “Generale Eliana,” Vitale gasped. “Tomas sent me.” He struggled for breath to speak.
    I put my hand on his shoulder, glancing past him. “Get Giovanni and Lucia,” I ordered one of my soldiers, but only Giovanni appeared in time to hear Vitale's message.
    “Felice. Is he here? Have you seen him?”
    I shook my head. “No. I haven't seen him. He was supposed to stay with Tomas.”
    “He's gone. He took a horse and disappeared.”
    It took a moment for this to sink in. “Why? Did he have a fight with