Iris and Roman depart Avalon Bluff in a crowded lorry bound for the front; only one seat is available in the cab, forcing Iris to sit on Roman’s lap after a rough start with Roman riding the step. As the road worsens, Iris leans back against Roman for stability, and he braces her to keep her from hitting the windshield. Their banter returns to familiar nicknames, masking discomfort and new, uncertain feelings.

They reach a deserted town converted to military use, where supplies are unloaded. Captain Speer identifies them as correspondents and assigns them to Dawn Company, which is cycling from reserves to the trenches at sundown. She outlines the base layout and warns them to wear helmets, obey orders, and stay down. Lieutenant Lark, a young officer with a mouth scar, is introduced and welcomes them, guiding them to the mess hall and explaining the army’s structure: four companies per battalion, roughly 200 per company, four platoons per company; he commands about fifty soldiers with Sergeant Duncan as second. His platoon is nicknamed the Sycamore Platoon for reasons he withholds for later.

Over the meal and walk, Lark explains how enlistees from Oath are placed in auxiliary companies since Eastern Borough has not declared war, and he sets reporting boundaries: no strategies, messages, or revealing intel. He encourages Iris to write candidly about what she sees and feels to rally support. Iris agrees but internally feels overwhelmed.

At five, Iris and Roman, now equipped with helmets and rations, march silently with Dawn Company through forest to Station Fourteen and descend into the communication trenches. Lark briefs them to stay low and alert, use bunkers during attacks or hound incursions, and notes eithrals rarely attack the front because they cannot distinguish troops from above. If the trenches are overrun, they must retreat to town immediately despite their neutral status.

They halt in a relatively clean stretch to rest for the night. Iris observes the trench layout—planked floors, woven stick walls, sandbags, and dark bunkers—and notes the chill, odors, and oppressive silence. She and Roman sit across from each other, writing notes. Iris begins to record the day, eats an orange, and then remembers the half-read letter from her anonymous correspondent, Carver, whose words feel comforting in the darkness.

After Roman appears to fall asleep, Iris resumes Carver’s letter, which mentions his nan, his doubts about writing, and questions about Iris’s life. Roman, awake, interrupts by tossing a crumpled note asking what she is reading. A quiet exchange of paper wads follows as Roman guesses it is a love letter and pointedly describes the kind of emotional confession the writer might be making, touching on family, Iris’s writing, and unworthiness. Iris is rattled by his accuracy, pockets Carver’s letter unfinished, and ends the exchange by telling Roman to sleep—using his first name. He drifts off as she does, and Iris dreams of a misty, endless city and a dark-haired boy out of reach.