Plans for Expansion

The early morning sky was awash in pale blues and hints of sunrise lavender, as if hesitant to fully abandon the cloak of night. In the compound's central courtyard, a hush lingered, broken only by the shuffle of boots and the muted clank of tools as survivors stirred from cramped bunks and low-burning campfires. Despite the persistent threat of infiltration and the looming specter of Jace's band, everyday tasks still demanded attention: feeding the livestock that huddled in makeshift pens, tending the orchard's meager trees, and posting fresh watchers at the walls.

Leila stood on the makeshift platform—half a broken shipping container topped with scavenged planks—her gaze fixed on the farmland stretching out from the compound's east gate. Though it was winter-chilled, the soil was workable in patches, especially with the seeds they hoped to barter from Thornbridge. If they could expand their farmland, they might sustain a steadier food supply, reducing the necessity for high-risk scavenging. But it was an endeavor that felt as precarious as everything else lately, overshadowed by the thefts, Tamsin's suspicions, and Harriet's uncertain loyalty.

She inhaled a slow breath, recalling the emotional storm she'd just weathered a few nights ago—a moment of raw confession with Kai, revealing the harrowing truth of how she'd actually died once by Jace's doing, only to awaken months earlier in some impossible twist of fate. That fleeting vulnerability still echoed in her chest, an ache of relief and cautious hope. She wasn't entirely alone anymore, but the scars remained.

"Leila," a familiar voice called, cutting through her thoughts.

Mark approached, weaving around a few of Tamsin's faction who cast him questioning looks. He carried a rolled-up map under his arm—an old topographical chart dotted with scribbles and notes in multiple handwritings. His jaw was set, posture brimming with a subdued energy that hinted at new plans stirring behind his eyes.

"You asked me to come up with ideas for fortifying farmland," he said without preamble. "I've got more than that."

Leila arched a brow. "Well, go on."

She descended from the platform, meeting him at eye-level in the courtyard. The cold morning air nipped at her cheeks and formed faint puffs of breath when she spoke.

Mark unrolled the map on a sturdy crate, pinning the corners with scavenged metal rods. "Here," he said, tracing a calloused finger across a patch of lines representing the farmland east of the walls. "We can expand our cultivation zones. We have enough seeds—assuming Harriet's group or Thornbridge delivers on their end—to try a new orchard row or a larger vegetable plot."

Leila nodded. "Right. That's what we planned. But there's a risk: The further we expand beyond the walls, the more vulnerable we are to raiders and infiltration attempts. Especially if Jace is out there."

Mark moved his hand to another area, a few miles off to the southeast. "Which is why we build a small outpost. Not as big as the compound—just a fortified station, maybe a handful of watchers, some basic defenses. It'd guard the farmland and help secure any external resources we can't afford to cart back here every single day."

She studied the map, heart beating a touch faster. "We'd need manpower for that. People to hold the outpost. Weapons, supplies…"

"Exactly," Mark said. "But if we manage to establish trust with Thornbridge or any other enclaves, we might have enough support to rotate patrols, share resources. We can't stay locked in these walls forever, especially if we want to keep Tamsin from insisting on total isolation."

Leila exhaled slowly, letting her gaze roam the map. "You really think Thornbridge will step up and assist us? They're not exactly starry-eyed altruists. But maybe if we can show them a stable alliance—like seeds for ammo, a small trade route—they might."

"We have to try," Mark murmured. "Staying stagnant is a slow death. You've said it yourself."

She nodded, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite her lingering worries. "That, I did."

Within the hour, Leila convened a brief meeting in the newly reinforced "war room," an old supply hall in the compound's heart, where a battered, scuffed table held maps, ration logs, and scribbled notes of infiltration warnings. Around that table stood some of the community's key figures:

Darren, arms crossed, face set in determined lines, ready to coordinate watchers and guard duty.

Fiona, posture serene but eyes betraying tension, prepared to mediate any friction that might spark between factions.

Tamsin, reluctant but present, her brow furrowed in perpetual suspicion.

Kai, who lingered near Leila's side with a calm alertness that buoyed her more than she cared to admit.

Mark, map still tucked under his arm, the one who'd prompted this gathering with his idea for expansion.

Leila cleared her throat, meeting each person's gaze. "Mark has a proposal to expand our farmland and set up an outpost beyond our current perimeter."

Tamsin's lips pressed thin. "We can't even secure the farmland we have without thefts. Now you want us to spread ourselves thinner?"

Mark held up a hand. "If we keep everything centralized, we risk overcrowding and draining resources. An outpost means we can guard more territory, gather more supplies—maybe even salvage from those farmland areas we haven't touched yet. It's not about spreading ourselves too thin. It's about strategic placement."

Darren nodded thoughtfully. "It could be a forward defense, too. If Jace tries an attack, we'd have an early warning system. They'd have to go through the outpost first."

Tamsin folded her arms. "Sure. If Thornbridge or Harriet's group doesn't sabotage it. How do we know they won't turn it into a beachhead for infiltration?"

Leila inhaled, quelling her rising annoyance. "That's why we assign watchers we trust. No single group controls it. If we do bring in help from outside, they'll have limited access until they prove loyal. We're not repeating old mistakes."

Fiona sighed, glancing between Tamsin and Mark. "Even if we do all that, we'll need cooperation from other enclaves for supplies—wood, construction tools. It'll take time."

Mark tapped the map. "We have time if we plan now. Better than waiting for Jace to make the first move. If Harriet's group is trustworthy, they might share intel on possible building materials. If Thornbridge is open to trade, we can secure better resources. It's a risk, but so is sitting here waiting for an attack."

A silence fell, thick with the weight of unknowns. Tamsin eventually huffed but didn't continue her objections, as if even she saw the glimmer of wisdom in Mark's plan.

Leila looked at Kai, who gave a small nod, as if to say this is worth trying. She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Alright. Let's start small—just survey the farmland's edge. We'll pick a spot that's defensible and see what we can do about re-establishing farmland, maybe building watchtowers. We keep watchers on rotation. We maintain caution with Harriet's group, but we don't lock them out if they can assist."

Tamsin's gaze flickered with reluctance. "If they step out of line once—"

Leila cut her off with a measured tone. "We'll be vigilant, Tamsin. But we won't cripple our survival strategy because of fear."

Tamsin gave a curt nod, arms still crossed, but she said nothing further.

Word of the plan spread through the compound like ripples in a pond. Some welcomed the idea of reclaiming more farmland, imagining a steadier flow of crops, a buffer against the famine that had dogged them for months. Others worried about being too exposed if they built an outpost beyond the safety of the current walls.