Free The Dirt Eaters by Dennis Foon

the rat from his dreams sitting on the shore.
    â€œ WHO IS THE FRIEND ? WHO ARE THESE BROTHERS ?”
    Roan looks at his new Brothers. He sees Feeder on the shore, watching jealously, doing his best to smile. Raven is grinning, but also scanning Roan’s body, as if searching for the best place to slip in a knife. Saint, proud, triumphant, appears full of secrets.
    It’s true. Despite all his time here, Roan doesn’t know anything about these men.
    â€œ NO. YOU DO NOT. ”
    Roan is carried on the Brothers’ shoulders back down the stream. His elation has faded. All the cheering and congratulations seem hollow. They enter the meal tent to feast on roasted eggs, fresh juices, and meats. All the while, Roan smiles and nods at the Brothers’ good wishes. But the food is dry in his mouth.

THE RED-HAIRED WOMAN
    OF THE PROPHET’S ORIGINS, RUMORS ABOUND. NOT BORN OF WOMAN BUT OF ICE AND FIRE. ICE FOR THE COLD STEEL HE WIELDED TO SMITE THE WARLORDS. AND FIRE FOR THE NEW LIFE HE BREATHED INTO THE SOULS HE FREED FROM SLAVERY.
    â€” ORIN’S HISTORY OF THE FRIEND
    â€œW E NEED to talk.”
    Determined to get to the bottom of Feeder’s cryptic comments, Roan has sought him out. He’s decided on the direct approach.
    â€œAbout what?” Feeder mumbles, not looking up from the cabbage he’s chopping.
    â€œWhat did you mean, ‘one comes, one goes’?
    â€œIt’s a blessing,” he says, shrugging Roan off. “We say it to all the initiates.”
    Feeder looks past Roan wen he hears the sound of Saint’s motorcycle pulling up behind them. Without so much as a glance at Roan, he picks up his cabbage and retreats into the cook tent.
    Saint, the bike still idling, motions Roan to join him.
    â€œDo you have some business with him?” asks Saint.
    â€œNot really,” says Roan.
    â€œGood. I have something special to show you.”
    Roan climbs on the motorcycle and they burn off, going down a trail that takes them onto the fertile plain. They pass flat sections of land where plants are being harvested by rugged farmers. As they pass, the people smile and wave at Saint, who lifts his hand in greeting.
    â€œOver there!” Saint shouts back through the wind.
    He points to a big parcel of land that’s covered in the herbal plants Roan picked with Brother Asp.
    â€œWe’re reclaiming all that, thanks to you!”
    Roan gazes on the fields with pleasure. The farmers have implemented the plans he found for them in the book on soil decontamination. His father would have been proud.
    Saint roars on, eventually coming to a village gate. Its wall is armored with a strange collection of flattened metal barrels, ancient car parts, and iron sheeting. A woman, red hair flow­ing past her shoulders, looks down from the guard tower and smiles broadly. She puts her fingers to her mouth, letting out a piercing whistle. The gate clanks open, and Saint and Roan motor in.
    From up on the guard towers and beside the gates, a dozen brawny women holding crossbows and spears shout greetings to Saint.
    Saint shuts off the engine, and they step off the bike. Roan’s surprised by the apparent strength of these women, the first females he’s seen since joining the Brothers.
    â€œThis is my village,” Saint says, as the red-haired woman strides up and kisses him hard on the mouth.
    â€œRoan, this is Kira. Kira, Roan.”
    Kira is tall and muscular, roughly the same age and nearly the same size as Saint. She slaps Roan on the shoulder. “You are sturdy, aren’t you? Saint’s told me all about you, Roan of Longlight.”
    â€œWhat has he told you?” Roan asks.
    â€œOh, you don’t want to know!” she laughs. Saint, blushing, laughs too. Then she pokes Roan in the ribs. “Only good things, kid! He can’t stop bragging about you! C’mon, let’s eat.”
    She puts her arm around Roan and guides him down a