Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

A fter climbing down the flights upon flights of stairs—no one took the lifts for going down—Pip strode out of the mountain into the bustling port of the Dar Goranth base. She hadn't had the chance to search out the dwarves working on the base in the first few weeks she'd been there, thanks to the long hours of testing the aeroplane guns, then the scramble to build the Escarlish aeroplanes.

Now that Fieran and the flyboys were out on another patrol—thankfully with good, calm weather—she had a few moments to explore the base.

She dodged around the various human and troll seamen—as well as a few seawomen—and naval base workers as they hauled freight and bustled between various buildings.

Most of the trolls, standing a foot or more taller than her, didn't even seem to see her. Several almost ran into her, and one nearly clocked her in the face with an elbow as he swung to say something to the person next to him as she was wiggling her way by.

But she was used to dodging elbows, so she rocked back on her heels, the elbow missing her nose by a mere inch, before she ducked around the troll and squirmed through a tiny gap in the crowd.

Surrounded by tall trolls and even taller buildings, she might have gotten lost in the sprawling base if the pounding beat of hammers and the earthy, metallic taste of dwarf magic hadn't provided an unerring guide through the streets.

Finally, she popped out of the general bustle before the giant dry docks—large concrete structures built stretching out into the bay. Most of the dry docks were, well, dry with their large doors at the end sealed shut against the water. The ships in these were resting on large bracings, keeping them upright and steady as dwarf, troll, and human workers swarmed over them.

In the nearby harbor, the nearly complete ships floated on the water while work crews of mostly humans with only a few trolls and dwarves labored over the finishing touches.

Beyond the dry docks, more ships' hulls were in progress, resting on more bracings as they were built on solid ground before they would be sent down slipways to plunge into the bay at their launch.

Teams upon teams of dwarves worked on each ship. Other teams of trolls and humans were interspersed among the dwarves, but the dwarves were the ones in charge here.

On the nearest hull under construction, a team of dwarves pounded in the rivets that held the hull plates together. One dwarf heated the rivet in a small, portable forge. Once the rivet was red-hot, the dwarf used a pair of tongs to toss it up to another dwarf, who caught it in a bucket. This dwarf then plucked the still hot rivet from the bucket with another set of tongs and placed it in the hole pre-drilled in the two sheets of iron being clamped together.

While Pip couldn't see the inside of the ship, she could imagine a dwarf on the inside holding the bucking bar against the back of the rivet. A dwarf on the outside then pounded the rivet with his large ball-peen hammer, flattening the outside head and smushing the base of the rivet against the bucking bar on the inside. When the rivet cooled, it would shrink, holding the two sheets of iron together.

All the while, the dwarves kept up a steady rhythm with their heating, tossing, and pounding, at one with the metal. Magic curled around them as they worked it into the rivets, the metal plates, the very bones of this ship in progress.

Pip couldn't work her magic the way a dwarf did, but she tapped her hand against her thigh in time with the rhythm as she approached the working dwarves.

The noise of all the drilling and hammering reverberated in her ears, and she dug into her pocket and pulled out a set of elven moss earplugs. While full dwarves like her mother or a half-dwarf like her brother had an extra flap inside their ears that they could use to plug their own ears when working, Pip had inherited her dacha's elven, sensitive hearing.

Pip waited to one side of the massive hull, simply soaking up the presence of so many dwarves.

A pang shot through her. Would she still be gone fighting this war next winter when her family made their yearly trek to the dwarven mountains to visit her grandparents?

With Dar Goranth so remote, letters came sporadically every few weeks. Unlike at Fort Linder, they no longer could call home, unless it was a dire emergency, and even then they had to go up the chain of command to request such a thing. There were only two telephone lines sunk in the channel running from Drogenvroh Island and Kostaria's mainland, and those had to be reserved for military purposes.

Between the phone calls and frequent letters, she hadn't felt so cut off from her family at Fort Linder. Plus she was surrounded by the familiar Escarlish culture.

Here, everything was foreign, and her family felt so very far away. She'd finally received a packet of letters from home, making her miss her parents and Mak all the more.

After several more minutes, a female dwarf who had been shouting out orders to the others wandered in Pip's direction. The dwarf's beard was braided in an intricate pattern, the colors of the bands and beads telling Pip the dwarf came from Clan Herfaed, a dwarf clan from one of the more northern dwarven clans.

The dwarf glanced over Pip, taking in her height to the hand Pip still tapped against her thigh. The dwarf pounded her fists together in front of her in the dwarven greeting. "Kiddakak of Clan Herfaed."

Pip made the gesture as well. "Pippak of Clan Detmuk."

"A good meeting." The dwarf nodded, then pointed toward one of the hulls only starting construction. "Dwarves of Clan Grustraen are down that way."

Clan Grustraen was part of the same dwarven kingdom as Clan Detmuk, their mountain only a few mountains over from Mount Detmuk.

" Nomdet ." After so long of speaking Escarlish and elvish in the last few months, the dwarvish thank-you felt rough on Pip's tongue and deep in her throat. She pounded her fists against each other again in farewell, then turned to head in that direction.

The interaction likely would have felt abrupt to a human or an elf. But dwarves didn't linger over conversation during a workday. Socializing was for when the work was done.

But when they did socialize, well, dwarves knew how to party .

Pip strode along the shipyard until she reached the hull the female dwarf had indicated.

Here, a male dwarf with a thick, black beard down to his waist shouted orders in between tapping out a rhythm of his own against the hull with a small hammer.

Pip halted next to him and knocked her fists. " Durid mouna . Pippak of Clan Detmuk."

"Clan Detmuk! Durid mouna ." The other dwarf didn't pause in his rhythm as he wished her good morning, though a large grin spread beneath his thick beard. "I'm Yamrarlig of Clan Grustraen. I've been to Mount Detmuk many times."

"Perhaps you know my grandak , Jordrouth?" Pip spoke in dwarvish as she mentioned her grandfather.

"Jordrouth! Yes, I know him well! Didn't he have a daughter who married an elf?" Yamrarlig eyed her, as if taking in all the elven features that made her slimmer and slightly tall for a full dwarf.

"My muka." Pip kept her shoulders straight, facing the other dwarf without flinching. This was the part where most dwarves said something disparaging about her dacha.

"Ah, quite the story there. Made its way all the way to Mount Grustraen." Yamrarlig nodded, still pounding out a rhythm with his hammer. A swirl of his magic spread through the ship's hull every time the hammer clanged against the metal, merging with the dwarven magic from all the other dwarves matching this lead dwarf's rhythm. "Not judging, mind you. I'm here with my crew, after all."

"I was surprised to see so many crews of dwarves working here." Pip waved toward the long line of dreadnoughts and battle cruisers under construction.

"The Alliance pays quite well." Yamrarlig grinned, showing off his large teeth. "Ships built by dwarves are far superior. We infuse our magic into the iron as we build the ships, and that makes the hulls all but impervious to the newfangled guns and torpedoes."

"Of course they are." Pip dared to reach out and pat the hull in rhythm with the dwarf's pounding. She hesitated, then added, "Do you know if there are any crews of dwarves working for the Mongavarians?"

"Not that I know of." Yamrarlig shrugged, still not breaking his rhythm. "The dwarven kingdoms might not have any closer alliance with the Alliance Kingdoms than a few trade treaties, but we have no such trade with Mongavaria. We all know how Mongavaria treats those they deem inferior. Perhaps a few crews will be taken in, but it will not be many. We dwarves might not be willing to get involved in fighting the actual war, but we will send our iron and work crews to build the weapons so that the Alliance Kingdoms can fight your war."

That was a relief, at least. Mongavaria already had the benefit of a large coastline and many seaports. At least the Alliance would have the advantage of better, dwarven-made ships.

Would it be enough, once the Alliance navies and the Mongavarian navy came to blows?

Pip shook herself and gestured toward the ship. "Care for a little help for a while?"

Yamrarlig grinned and pointed toward a nearby tool cart with several extra hammers. "Always room for another hand on a crew."

"Did you have a good time with the dwarves today?"

Pip glanced up at Fieran's question, craning her neck since they were walking side-by-side through the tunnels of the Dar Goranth cliffs. "I did. There aren't any dwarves from Mount Detmuk here, but there's a crew from a mountain not far from there. It was good to spend some time with dwarves again. And neat to see how they are building the dreadnoughts and other warships with their magic."

She'd enjoyed helping Yamrarlig and his crew. Even though she couldn't work her magic in conjunction with a team the way the other dwarves did, she wrapped her magic through theirs, using her magical sense to guide her. The dwarves had been rather fascinated by her dwarven iron magic that was wielded so directly in the manner of the elves.

"Really? I know dwarves have iron magic, but how are they using it in building warships?" Behind Pip and Fieran, Lije trotted a few steps closer to join their conversation.

Pip half-turned, walking at an awkward sideways hop-skip to talk to Lije and the others while also including Fieran. "Full dwarves use rhythm to craft their magic. It's hard to describe, but it's a union of skills, tools, and magic. While the dwarves are riveting and constructing the battleships, they are also infusing the very iron with their magic. According to Yamrarlig, the crew leader of the dwarves from Clan Grustraen, the hulls will be nearly impenetrable."

"A good thing for the navy boys." Stickyfingers gestured around them, as if to indicate the whole of Dar Goranth base.

"And navy girls. Don't forget about them." Pretty Face smoothed the still thin beginning of his new mustache. "You're always ragging on me about giving women their proper due courtesy."

Lije rolled his eyes and slugged Pretty Face's shoulder. "I'd say you're improving, but I know you're only thinking about the women in the navy because you're still plotting ways to flirt with them without getting punched."

"Getting punched by my cousin wasn't enough?" Fieran walked backward for a few steps.

Pretty Face gave a small cough. "Um, well…"

"Word got around that Pretty Face is to be avoided or punched." Stickyfingers sounded almost too happy about that.

"It has really cramped my style." Pretty Face heaved a sigh as he waved at the passageway ahead of them. "This is the first time in my life I have gone to the cinema without at least one girl on my arm. It's a dismal blot on my record."

"It's good for you." Stickyfingers rolled his eyes before he turned back to Pip. "I'd like to meet the dwarves, if you go again when we're not on patrol."

"If you don't mind us tagging along," Lije added, his gap-toothed smile on display.

"I wouldn't mind." Though it boggled her mind to think of introducing her flyboys to the dwarves.

While the dwarves here didn't seem all that opposed to elves or humans—not like some dwarves she'd met back in the dwarven mountains—she was glad she'd gone by herself this first time. She'd been able to establish herself as a dwarf before showing up with a gaggle of humans and half-humans trailing her.

"We can make it our group excursion, the next time we are all off duty." Fieran glanced at the others before his gaze rested on her.

Was she imagining the warm and lingering look in his eyes? Something in her chest jolted at the thought of introducing Fieran to the dwarves.

Though it wasn't the dwarves in the harbor she was thinking of. For some reason, her mind jumped to an image of Fieran in the dwarven mountains, feasting at her grandparents' table with her parents and brother there.

Pip had to look away as she worked to keep her voice casual. "I'd like that."

What was that? She'd thought she'd set aside her attraction to Fieran, but lately it seemed to be getting worse again.

When Fieran continued speaking, he didn't seem at all affected by whatever had come over Pip. "Do you think any of the dwarves will come tonight? I think everyone on the base is invited."

Right. Just friends. Casual conversation. Pip plastered a smile on her face. "They might. Dwarves are always up for a good time."

"Are there any dwarven women in the crews?" Pretty Face slicked his hand over his hair.

Both Stickyfingers and Lije punched Pretty Face's shoulders. Pretty Face winced, trying to rub both shoulders at once. "What?"

Pip rolled her eyes. Pretty Face sure was in a mood tonight. "Yes, there are. But don't bother with your smarmy flirting. You won't get any farther than you would with the female troll warriors. Not with that beard."

"What's wrong with my beard? It's considered quite stylish in Escarland." Pretty Face rubbed a hand over the meticulously trimmed and sculpted beard on his chin.

"Stylish in Escarland, maybe. But for dwarves, a small beard is worse than no beard at all." Pip grinned, perhaps a little too gleeful about that. She could just imagine her muka and brother Mak hassling Pretty Face for his little sissy beard.

"Huh." Pretty Face rubbed a hand over his chin, as if contemplating what he should do with his beard. Keep it to appeal to Escarlish women or shave it to flirt with dwarven women.

Pip shook her head and trotted to catch up with Fieran's long strides. She reached his side just as Merrik pulled open the door at the end of this corridor.

As soon as the door swung open, the reverberation of voices thundered from inside the large space on the far side.

This was one of many doors that led into the large arena built deep underground. The stone had been carved into a large, domed ceiling above tiers upon tiers of benches. Sand covered the floor of the arena in the middle where the monthly fighting bouts were held. Many of the troll warriors stationed at Dar Goranth scheduled various training sessions here, so it was rare that the arena wasn't in use by someone.

Tonight, though, a large white sheet had been stretched across a stand on one end of the arena. Ropes marked the places to sit to see the screen.

Many trolls and humans already packed into the tiers of seats. A few dwarves had even managed to get there early enough to claim the first few rows on the left-hand side.

"There." Fieran pointed slightly to the left.

Tiny stood up, waving. In the rows above and below him, most of the other flyboys in Flight B clustered on the benches, but the row beside Tiny remained empty.

Merrik was already halfway down the row in that direction, and Pip followed, edging down the narrow aisle. Many of the troll warriors were so bulky that their shoulders and elbows filled the aisle as they sat at the very end of their rows to pack in as many people as possible.

"It's a good thing Tiny saved us seats." Fieran's voice came from directly behind Pip.

"Yes." Pip reached the row Tiny had saved and followed Merrik into it. Who knew a showing of an Escarlish moving picture starring an elf would be so popular?

When she sat down, she found herself wedged between Merrik and Fieran. Even though Tiny had saved seats, the benches were crowded enough that they all had to cram so close together that she tucked her elbows to her sides to avoid bumping arms with Fieran and Merrik. Lije, Pretty Face, and Stickyfingers crowded in on the other side of Fieran.

As they settled in, Lije glanced around, then leaned closer to Fieran. "I don't see any elves besides the three of you." He gestured at Fieran, Pip, and Merrik. "You'd think the elves would like a moving picture starring an elf."

"Well, the Star Forest movies aren't exactly historically or culturally accurate, so some elves can be bothered by that." Fieran shrugged, his movement knocking his arm into Pip's. "The elven nobility especially."

"Not all of us are so stuffy." Aylia's voice came from the aisle. Pip's elven roommate halted next to the end of their row, her long brown hair flowing around her shoulders. "Is there room for me?"

"Sure." Pretty Face scooched over so fast that Stickyfingers was squashed against Lije.

As everyone shifted down, Pip lost the little room she had. She was all too aware of the way her side pressed against Fieran.

Fieran, of course, seemed utterly oblivious.

Just as well. It was bad enough fighting her slight attraction to him without him acting like anything more than a friend toward her.

Aylia gave Pretty Face a stern glare before she sank onto the bench. She leaned forward to speak past him. "The amount of stone does not help either. Many of my squadron mates are not willing to brave the possible headache to watch a moving picture."

"This would not be a comfortable room for most full elves." Next to Pip, Merrik's quiet addition to the conversation was nearly drowned out by the general hubbub of the room.

Still, Aylia must have heard, for she nodded, pulling out the stone she wore on a cord around her neck. "Exactly. We all have our healing stones to keep the headaches and other physical symptoms at bay, but even the healing stones do not erase all the weight of so much surrounding stone."

Merrik nodded, all too grave.

Did he, too, feel the pressure of the stone around them? While she was half-elf, Pip had never felt the weight of stone the way her dacha described it.

The lights in the large training arena dimmed as the bright light of the projector flared. As the murmuring voices faded, the clicking, whirling sound of the reel spinning in the projector echoed through the room. The first strains of the music blared scratchy from the phonograph.

The title page of the moving picture came to life on the white sheet, announcing they were watching Star Forest and the Princess of Estirinfel , the very first Star Forest book and moving picture.

After a few moments, the title page switched to a page with words. In the time of the elven empire, when the elves ruled the continent from the sea to the great dwarven mountains, the young elf warrior Star Forest travels through the forests far from his home.

The page of words blinked into the black-and-white images of the actor Tenian Daefiel bounding lightly through a sun-dappled forest, his bright blond hair flowing in a breeze the audience couldn't feel .

The musical score changed to the recognizable Star Forest theme, a jaunty tune of elven flutes and stringed instruments. For all the inaccuracies of the plot, the characters, and, well, everything, the score at least made an effort to use elven music to denote the elves.

Pip settled as comfortably as she could on the hard stone bench. Too bad it didn't have a back.

She'd seen this moving picture several times, but it was her favorite. There was just something about the original, the first introduction to Star Forest and his lady love, that couldn't be surpassed by the sequels. Not to mention, the leading lady wasn't quite as helpless in this one as she became in the later ones, where the repeated kidnappings and Star Forest rescues grew increasingly ridiculous.

Here at Dar Goranth, so far from home, there was something extra cozy about re-watching a favorite.

All that cozy warmth vanished when Fieran reached around her to brace a hand against the bench behind her. Not touching her, but still invading her space in a way that made her all too aware of him.

He leaned closer, his breath warm and tickling her ear. "Star Forest is so obviously modeled after my dacha. Blond hair, a renowned warrior, powerful magic, falls in love with a human princess."

"Your dacha and macha inspired a generation," Pip whispered back as quietly as she could.

On the screen, words flashed again. Suddenly, a scream pierces the forest.

The words flipped back to the scene of Star Forest. He halted, cocking his head and going rigid, as if hearing a scream that the audience couldn't hear.

Deeper in the forest, he spots a fair maiden being carried off by bandits .

The scene showed a dark-haired young woman in an elaborate dress struggling in the arms of four rough-clad dirty men, which, of course, signified that they were evil minions. The music changed from the lilting elven notes to a more bombastic score, showing the transition to the action scene.

Fieran leaned closer to Pip once again. "The only reason she doesn't have red hair like my mama is that the dark brown shows up much better in a moving picture. She has auburn hair in the book."

"Unhand that maiden, you foul villains!"

A moment later, the picture showed Star Forest mouthing those same words, though the audience couldn't hear him say them, of course.

The villains halted what they were doing, gaping at Star Forest. Then two of them continued dragging the maiden away while the other two drew their swords.

Star Forest rushes to confront the dastardly fiends.

Drawing his two swords, Star Forest gracefully launched himself forward.

This time, Pip tilted her head to whisper to Fieran. "Two swords, of course."

"Of course." In the darkness of the arena, the light of the screen before them highlighted Fieran's smile and glimmered in his eyes.

In the moving picture, a furious, choreographed sword fight ensued. Star Forest easily took on the bandits.

"And skilled with those swords." Pip let her back rest against Fieran's arm braced behind her. Just getting comfortable. Nothing more.

"Though he somehow manages to get his shirt ripped off." Fieran had his head bent so close to hers that his mouth nearly brushed her ear. "A Star Forest Moment, as my family calls it."

On the screen, a triumphant Star Forest, indeed, had his shirt in tatters. Only one sleeve remained partially on his arm while the other was entirely ripped off, baring his shoulder and muscular pectorals. The remaining strips of his shirt fluttered rather artfully as the maiden he'd rescued swooned in his arms—because apparently maidens were supposed to be overcome after such things.

Though who could say if she was overcome by nearly being kidnapped or by the sight of the handsome, all-but-shirtless elf rescuing her.

Pip snorted, then pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh.

Stickyfingers leaned around Lije. "Would the two of you stop talking? Some of us are trying to watch."

Fieran grinned back in a way that was far too unrepentant. "Merrik isn't complaining."

Merrik rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "You always talk during moving pictures. You and Adry. I am used to it by now."

The flyboys on the rows above and below shushed them so loudly that those sitting farther up and farther down also started shushing.

Pip poked Fieran in the ribs. "See how disruptive you're being?"

"Me? You've been talking just as much as I have." Fieran's smirk sent far more flutters through her than the too-handsome Star Forest currently sharing a romantic first meeting with the maiden he'd rescued, a maiden he doesn't yet know is a princess.

"Shush!"

Pip wasn't sure who said it this time, but she shared one last amused look with Fieran before she turned to better face the screen.

As the moving picture continued, Pip dared to lean her head against Fieran's shoulder. Just a little bit. Not too snuggly. Just getting as comfortable as she could on a stone bench not designed for comfort. Since Fieran didn't seem to mind, she wasn't going to pull away.

Because this moving picture was a two-reeler, there was an intermission when the first reel finished and the crew had to swap it out for the second reel.

A spread of donuts and ice cream had been laid out on tables in the mess hall, and Pip hung back rather than join the shoving for the food. Two of the trolls got into a punching match over the chocolate sprinkles they both wanted to put on their ice cream, and a few of the others were about to come to blows over the donuts. Not a safe environment for someone vertically challenged.

"What would you like? I'll fetch it for you." Fieran gestured to the troll warriors, dwarves, and flyboys descending on the food like a pack of scavengers.

"A maple donut, if they have any. Or any donut, really." Pip placed her back to the wall where she wouldn't be trampled in the continued stampede for the refreshments. "Thanks."

"All right." Fieran glanced around the rest of their group. "Well, men, there's our target. Form up."

On cue, Tiny took station to Fieran's left with Merrik to his right. Lije and Pretty Face took the spots to either side of Tiny and Merrik so that they now formed a wedge with Stickyfingers, the shortest and smallest of the flyboys in their group, filling in the wedge as a rearguard.

Fieran led the way, and their wedge sliced into the tumult. They didn't get into wrestling matches or engage in too much shoving. There was just something about the confident way that Fieran strode into the melee that had those around him moving out of his way.

Aylia leaned against the wall next to Pip. "Good thinking, finding a spot by the wall."

"I didn't want to be trampled." Pip searched the seething mass, but Fieran and his flyboys had disappeared into the fray. "Fieran is getting me a donut."

"Pretty Face is getting mine." Aylia grinned, shrugging. "He offered, and I was not about to brave that . Not even for food."

Pip opened her mouth, but Fieran stepped from the crowd a moment later, followed by the others.

With a triumphant grin, Fieran held out a plate containing a cake donut with the brown, maple-syrup-flavored icing. "Your donut."

"Linshi." The elvish thank you rolled off her tongue as Pip took the plate and picked up the donut. It was still warm, so the base's cooks must have made the batch fresh, perhaps even missing the moving picture to make them.

Fieran held a bowl of chocolate ice cream topped with chocolate fudge and chocolate sprinkles.

Tiny gripped a bowl with two massive scoops of vanilla ice cream sporting just about every topping available, from the chocolate sprinkles to nuts to strawberries. Stickyfingers had both a donut and a bowl of ice cream while Lije's chocolate ice cream sported as much additional chocolate toppings as Fieran's.

Pretty Face bowed and flourished a plate with a powdered-sugar-coated donut. "And here is your donut, milady."

"Linshi." Aylia took the donut with a smile that was kind but not flirtatious .

"Let's move back to our seats and get away from this crowd." Fieran once again led the way.

Pip fell into step behind him so that he could part the way for her. Having tall men around was so convenient when they were providing a shield for her in a crowd.

The strains of the Star Forest theme still blared from the phonograph as they returned to their seats while the screen simply said "Intermission."

After they all polished off their food, Merrik gathered all their plates and bowls to return them to the mess.

Just as Merrik returned and shuffled past them to reach his seat on the other side of Pip, Captain Gradrah strode down the center aisle and halted in front of the screen.

The music abruptly cut out, and the conversations all around the arena staggered into silence.

Pip tensed. If only Fieran would brace his arm behind her again. Whatever Captain Gradrah was about to say, she was likely going to need the comfort of his strength.

Captain Gradrah swept her gaze around the arena before she spoke in a carrying voice. "We received word from Tarenhiel that a few hours ago Mongavaria bombed the eastern forests with incendiary bombs using human magic."

Pip stilled, a sick weight sinking into her stomach. Fire that was powered by human magic would be much more difficult to put out than a normal fire. How much of the forest had burned? Was it, perhaps, still burning as the elves struggled to put it out?

On either side of her, Merrik hunched as if sick to his stomach while Fieran had gone unusually still. Farther down, Aylia's jaw worked as she blinked far too rapidly.

To an elf, the destruction of the trees was a profound loss. Perhaps not as mourned as the loss of lives, but a close second .

Pip's donut churned in her stomach. It felt so wrong, sitting there enjoying a donut and watching a favorite moving picture while far away to the south the forest was burning.

"We enjoy a moment of rest today, but our time will come to fight back." Captain Gradrah's gaze scoured those gathered in the arena again. "The Escarlish Intelligence Office has picked up rumors of a planned attack on our navy. Nothing concrete yet, but our day is coming."

All around the room, the troll warriors shouted in a howling, growling kind of cheer that was the traditional war cry of the trolls.

Pip wasn't sure if she wanted to cheer or quail. When the attack came, would she be strong enough?