When Iree had said that the groups would head out at sunrise, she’d surely meant it. When all was still awash in the darkness before dawn’s blush, Dorothea and Shark were woken from their place snoring in an amalgamated lump still on the couch in the barracks. Shark didn’t fully come to life until Dorothea poked at their cheek about a dozen times, repeating their name all the while. They realized it then, just how lulled they had become in their life away from the military. An internal alarm had used to screech each morning, a certain foreboding providing the energy to snap straight up and contend with the day.

Hollyhock had told Shark and Dorothea to meet at the fort city’s front entrance the night before, so this was where the duo lumbered, the yawns of one encouraging the yawns of the other in a loop. Familiar faces waited there, as Cerid, Iree, Hollyhock and Rhys stood at the ready. There was a new face too, and it only made Shark anxious. The one thing they had to their advantage was knowing who they were dealing with.

Noticing both Shark and Dorothea staring, Iree put her hand on the shoulder of the stranger. “This is Ariana Kingfisher. She’s the best sword fighter in Sacer, and I’d bet money on that.”

“It’s nothing to boast about,” the girl clipped. She wore a blue and white buttoned sleeveless shirt made of slick leather, tall white boots, light-brown pants with small white and gold Xs stitched up them, and short blue and white gloves. Her hair, tight pink kinks, was tied up into a manelike ponytail with two sections tied by yellow bows hanging to frame her face. As she crossed her arms, powerfully toned muscles shifted. None of the soldiers were especially unfit, but this woman had clearly put hard work far beyond the standard into her physique. It made Shark grateful that the mixed business of construction and hunting they’d gotten into in Sirpo had helped maintain their muscle mass. Maybe they wouldn’t fall quite so behind.

Ariana’s eyes met Shark’s, and they recoiled. Within that steely gaze was nothing but pure hatred that didn’t bother one bit to conceal itself. Not only that, but she looked at Dorothea in the exact same way. Okay, so she was one to keep away from.

“Nice to meet you.” Dorothea smiled nervously while Shark nodded and waved, boasting a wide, fake grin.

“So that one’s the deserter?” Ariana asked in a flat tone as she jerked her head towards Shark.

As Dorothea shot a sharp glare, Shark took her wrist and squeezed it lightly to calm her down. “Ain’t you just a peach!” they laughed.

Ariana scoffed and started to say something, but Rhys cut in with smooth grace. “Good morning, Shark, Dorothea.” He smiled at her, and Dorothea’s cheeks turned a bit pink. Shark didn’t blame her; Rhys wasn’t unattractive, though Thea looked more embarrassed than shy. “I don’t know if you remember me, Shark, but we were in the same training class.”

“Been a while, yeah. Good to see you again,” Shark said. Maybe they could reminisce over drinks later. Wait, no, ideally they and Dorothea would be home before the chance came.

Rhys smiled. “As you both know, I’ll be leading you along with Cerid to the border. Though I know it’s conceited to say, you’re both in good hands, so don’t worry too much.” He nodded to Iree, handing her back control now that order had been regained.

“Wow,” Iree laughed. “Nice to see we can all get along.” She nodded at Dorothea, who stood straighter under her attention. “It’s like he says. Nothing to worry about.” She turned to Rhys. “Just get in, get the bodies and get out. No need to take risks. For the two of us, it should just be an easy recon, but everyone should be on your guard as always.”

The captain nodded. “Got it. You take care, okay?”

Iree rolled her eyes. “You don’t gotta tell me. Make sure it all goes well, okay, Creed?”

“Yes ma’am,” Cerid confirmed, and Ariana and the commander departed into the woods towards Sirpo’s frigidity, towing heavy jackets that Iree had had the sense to bring with her.

“Ariana’s not usually like that,” Rhys sighed by way of apology. “At least, not that bad.”

“I hope she gets frostbite,” Shark muttered.

“Don’t say that. I’d have to heal her,” Dorothea halfway joked, trying to lighten their mood.

“You’re right. No need to waste your energy,” Shark grumbled. “We have better things to focus on besides.”

Rhys nodded agreement and gestured to Cerid. “Lead the way.”

Cerid nodded, and the heavy, nervous breath he let out was the last sound between them all for a while. Though Dorothea seemed confused and tense in the enveloping silence, it felt natural to Shark. It was a matter of habit and training to focus on one’s surroundings during all parts of a mission. Carelessness led to death.

Pathways through the woods had been well carved out and trampled down by the passage of many prior groups, and Shark could almost feel their footsteps walking in time. Being back in Sacer was doing something to their head. A dreadful nostalgia misted every movement, every breath; it was like wading through a dream.

The pace slowed once they neared the border. A slight chill looped around them, and Shark felt their own palpable relief mixing with Dorothea’s. Ghuria’s climate was always said to be between Sirpo’s and Sacer’s, with harsh winters to rival the former’s permanent cold but otherwise tolerably cool temperatures. Even now, in summer, a crisp wind passed through to ruffle the leaves above them, and Shark saw Cerid cross his arms against it. The boy seemed on edge, and it was simple to understand why. That same wind had carried the all too familiar and maliferous odor of putrefaction.

Cerid turned to the group and motioned to the location of where the corpses would be. Between trees, Shark could catch a glimpse of blood splashed, innards scattered by animals and left half-devoured. They crept closer, and Shark felt the attack coming before actually seeing or hearing the enemy. A slight rustle off to the side in the last moment between tension and true battle let them know for sure. One eventually learned the difference between giving in to paranoid fear and trusting instinct.

Dorothea was the only one surprised when chaos erupted. She yelped as Shark put an arm around her shoulders and yanked her to the ground, holding her tight to their side as they crouched. Ice erupted, rushing towards them in ferocious spikes that shone black with white and pale blue sheens. Shark put their palm to the ground, and solid, packed columns of earth rose to intercept the attack, crushing it from the sides and underneath.

“This is some real shit,” Shark hissed. So much for a simple retrieval mission. They looked down at Dorothea as she started to squirm in their grip.

“Gods help us,” they heard her whisper before she bolted away.

“Thea!” they gasped. She was fleeing towards the bloated bodies of Cerid’s friends, keeping behind Cerid and Rhys on her path there.

Naturally, the enemy aimed for her. Shark recognized the woman from Sirpo, Johanna Marley, as her slender form slipped between and ducked behind trees. The ice seemed to be her magic, as her footsteps left small patches of it on the ground, tearing clumps of grass and dirt as she lifted her boots. The woman grinned and angled her foot in Dorothea’s direction as she made it to the corpses and began her work.

Shark lifted their hand at the same time, charting a route for the soil to spring up so Rhys and Cerid wouldn’t get caught in it; both the earth and ice attacks had already uprooted several trees, and the aching cry of their splitting and falling echoed all around.

Just as he had in Equin, Cerid leapt into action after the beginning strikes had been made. He rushed as the ice began to bloom and put himself directly in its path, terror and determination making his eyes blaze like two molten suns. He put his hands out and, when the ice neared it, the attack dissipated into a sparkling mist.

“I will guard her!” he declared, voice high with fear.