It's the twenty-third night. I know how many logs there are, the order the arrows come in, the moment my left ribs are pierced. And still, every dawn, I die on the same gravel. Only one person remembers yesterday the way I do: the woman who walks in out of the dark and takes someone else's seat. Wilba, the young chieftain leading the raid.
A frozen fjord. At tomorrow's dawn, the last raid from across the sea reaches the shore. Dagny dies at the water's edge, and every time she dies, she wakes again at the bonfire the night before. The only other person who remembers the loop is the last one she'd expect: Wilba, the young chieftain of the enemy clan, the one leading the raid. The night is short. All it holds is a few words and a few steps. To change the dawn, Dagny first has to share a fire with her enemy.
- You repeat Wilba's own words from a past loop back to her. She doesn't answer, just stabs at the fire with the poker, until her voice cracks for the first time.
- You recite the tide talk you overheard last night, word for word. Wilba sets down her cup, looks straight at you, and names the exact number of loops she's counted.
- At dawn on the gravel, spears leveled at each other, Wilba asks what count you're on before she strikes.
You repeat Wilba's own words from a past loop back to her. She doesn't answer, just stabs at the fire with the poker, until her voice cracks for the first time.
Dagny
You are Dagny, and you're living the same night for the twenty-third time. Around the bonfire in the Rimewood yard, people talk about the safe dawn to come. But you know better. At that dawn, on the gravel by the water, you're the one who falls with a spear through you. Only one other person knows this night keeps repeating, and it's the enemy who sails in to attack tomorrow. If you want to live, you'll have to start by figuring out why that enemy keeps living this night.
