A week later, Brock and Leah sat in the livestock barn, hiding from the rain, which had broken out as they finished trimming the hooves of the Welsh Mountain sheep. The two sat on old folding chairs swiped from the Commons building.

“Leah, are you okay?” Baird asked as the rain hammered the metal roof.

“You keep asking me that!” Leah stood up and peered out the door at the rain. “I’m okay.” She didn’t want to talk about it — the feeling of foreboding that settled in her bones like a chill she couldn’t shake.

“No, you’re not,” Baird observed. “If you were okay, then you’d be able to laugh at me being so clueless.”

“I’m okay!” Leah turned away from Baird.

“Leah!”

“What’s the matter with you, Baird?” Leah turned to him, hands on her hips. “Why are you getting into my business?”

“I’m not getting into your business,” Baird shouted, standing up. He sat just as quickly, burying his head in his hands.

“Baird, what’s wrong with you?” Leah asked, standing and striding over to Baird.

Baird raised his head. “I’m not used to snapping at you. I’m not used to snapping at anyone. But it’s part of my nature, this anger. And I’ve learned to ride herd on it, to become a person instead of the soldier they tried to make me. I’m not the calm, meditative person you think I am.” He paused. “Or I am, but it takes work. Like right now. I know there’s something wrong — you look pale and wiped out. But you won’t talk.”

Leah sat back down, pulled her chair closer to Baird. “I’ve been feeling like something bad is going to happen for days. I’ve not talked about it with you because I’ve not talked about it with anyone. I don’t want anyone to think I’m crazy.”

“You think anyone here would think you’re crazy? We have Trees that give talents, and if I heard correctly, Josh foresaw the Apocalypse, didn’t he?”

“But that’s just it.” Leah fidgeted with her hair, taking it out of its hair scrunchie and pulling it back again. “Josh’s vision quickly made sense because the Triumvirate announced they’d attack us and kill Lilith. But we have nothing to tie my vision or my foreboding to. The vision looks nothing to do with Barn Swallows’ Dance if it means anything at all.”

“You need to tell someone. What if it means something?” Baird reached for her shoulder, then pulled his hand back.

“You don’t understand.” Leah raised her hands in resignation. “My parents grow increasingly uncomfortable about this place. They’re not comfortable with their talents, or with the presence of the Nephilim —“

“You’re telling me.” Baird snorted. “Oh, sorry — go on.”

“I’m afraid —“ Leah paused, staring down at her hands.

“Afraid of what?” Baird prompted.

“I’m afraid they’re going to disown me. For being what they’re afraid of.” The words came out in a rush; their weight lingered.

“They wouldn’t disown you, would they?” Baird asked to break the long pause.

“If they thought I willfully walked away from God, they might,” Leah fretted. “I don’t even know if I believe in their God anymore.” Leah fell silent, waiting for their God to strike her down. Nothing happened.

“Who is your parents’ God?” Baird asked, clasping his hands.

“Well, God.” Leah snorted. “Ok, the Christian God.”

“Do humans believe in other gods?” Baird leaned back in his chair, ready to learn more about humans, a thing he pursued with enthusiasm.

“Well, Aasha Kaur’s Sikh, and she calls her deity Ek-Ongkar. The Hindu have a pantheon of Gods and Goddesses, and Jeanne and Josh believe in nature spirits. But I can’t —”
“You can’t believe in another God?” Baird guessed.

“Because our God is — “ Leah sighed. “It was comforting to grow up and feel we had the lock on salvation because we’d been born to the right God. It’s not so easy now, living at Barn Swallows’ Dance with so many beliefs.” Leah turned to Baird. “What do you believe?”

“Many of the Nephilim believe as the Archetypes do — in a creator we call the Maker.”

“Well, that’s original. But then again, we call our God ‘God’”.

“Anyhow,” Baird raised his eyebrows at her, “We don’t worship so much as acknowledge the Maker, who we believe constructed your world with its geography, its climate and weather and seasons, its ecosystems, and the Archetypes, held apart from humans by their immortality and their task to hold humans’ cultural underpinnings safe. And then They left to create another world.”

“So no sitting in judgment?” Leah asked. “That must be nice.”

“No. They’re pretty hands-off.” Baird cocked his head and listened — for the rain? Or for Leah’s father?

“They? I thought there was only one Maker,” Leah groused.

“The Maker has no gender. Or both genders. Nobody really knows.” Baird shrugged. “We haven’t heard from Them in thousands of years. Many thousands of years. We observe no rituals, we don’t pray. We are not the people of a deity.”

“That must be a relief.” Leah put her hands on her hips. “Beats being disowned by your parents for something you have no control over.”

“You need to tell someone. Besides me, that is — “

“I can’t tell Luke. Luke is — well, he looks at me like he knows something he’s not telling. I feel judged by him. It would be as bad as telling my parents.”

“Is there anyone else you can tell?”

“No. It would get back to my parents.” Leah grimaced. It would be so easy to let go her burden were it not for that.

“Okay,” Baird said. “Back to trying to make sense of the vision. Have you seen any visions since the one?”

“No, just the one. I feel like everything’s about to go wrong, however.”

“Back to the vision. What exactly did you see again?”

Leah shifted in her chair and closed her eyes, recalling to herself the vision. “I saw two lines of people facing each other, some in light armor, some with weapons. No guns, and as far as I could tell, no bombs. Just swords, and maces, like this was going to be a big man-to-man fight. They stood there, glaring at each other.”

“Did you recognize anyone in these lines?”

“No, but now I remember a man who commanded one line, pacing along the line, galvanizing them. He stood tall, and he taunted the men and women in line. Let me see — he said, ‘Do you want to be worthless? Do you want to be diminished as — he said some four-digit number — was? Do you want to be walking dead, trying to slit your own throats? We can stop this!’”

“That’s further than we’ve gotten before. What were they wearing?”

“To be honest, they looked like they dressed for a street fight. Or a gladiator ring. Both, kinda. Like I said.” Leah felt the dread like a miasma again. “Can we not talk about it?”

“I don’t know if we have that luxury, Leah.”

Leah tried to read Baird’s face, came up with concern and something she thought was puzzlement. “I just need to quit talking about it now.”

“Ok,” Baird said. “I’ll let it drop for now.” He looked out the door; Leah’s eyes followed his, and she noted the rain had stopped. “Let’s see if we’re needed in the food forest to pick fruit.”
They left the barn and walked silently toward the food forest, through browning grass sloppy with rain.