~Serana⚜️

"I still can't believe you let her out of the shackle." I mutter to the white winged woman standing beside me looking over the small training area. Myka was 'sparing' with Fyko, meaning she was throwing him in the dirt with her spear. The man may have been an excellent sneak, but a fighter he was not. "And then gave her a spear and sword." I cut my eyes over at that last part.

Mira glances back at me with a raised brow. "Technically Katal released and gave her weapons, I just brought the idea to mind. And I told her to put Myka with Treale, but, and quote, 'the woman couldn't shoot her own foot if she was aiming at it' so Katal suggested pairing her with Fyko as a sort of bodyguard." As she says this, Myka gets Fyko in a wing lock by hooking her right wing under the base of his left and uses that wing to force him off balance and sweeps his feet out from under him, throwing him face first into the grass.

"Bodyguard. Right. I'm sure that's what Katal had in mind." I intone sarcastically. Just about everyone that was around the pair knew that if Treale wasn't around to buffer they bickered almost nonstop.

Mira hums thoughtfully as she leans into my side just enough to slot my wing between her shoulder and wingblade. "Fyko doesn't seem to mind." She notes, also watching Myka repeatedly throw the man face first into the dirt.

And it was true, Fyko was grinning and goading Myka into attacking him more ferociously each time he got back up. "Yeah well, your best friend is a masochist." I sigh listening to the way Myka laughed when she knocked him on his ass again. "And he's courting a sadist."

Mira gives a considerate hum and nods slightly. "And your best friend is courting both of them."

A frown pulls at the edges of my lip. I don't have a good comeback for that one. She's got a point.

"I'm courting both of who?" Treale's familiar voice sounds from behind us.

Slipping my wing out from under Mira's I twist at the waist to see him walking toward us. He was dressed in archer's armor, silver flexible scale-mail covering his torso and legs, a set of perching boots with spikes across the bottom to help keep a grip, and fingerless gauntlets.

"Those two delinquents I currently employ." Mira calls over her wing without looking, nodding down toward the sparring pair.

Treale walks up on my other side to view the spectacle as well. "Technically, I'm only actively courting one. We're still working on getting Fyko to settle down enough that he won't get frightened and bolt." He corrects, a smile lighting up his features as he watched the two sparring idiots.

He and Myka asked me about a month ago what they could do to make sure they didn't frighten off the surprisingly skittish man. He was stedfast in his allegiance to Mira, but she saved his life as well as being his best friend as far as I was aware. I had told the two to ask the Queen for information on the spy. Of course neither of them have yet to do that.

"He seems fairly comfortable with the two of you as far as I can tell." Mira finally turns toward Treale to properly address him.

Treale glances in my direction for a moment, looking mildly panicked like he does every time Mira directly speaks to him. "Uh, what makes you say that, your majesty?" He fixes his gaze back to Mira, straightening his back and stiffening his wings like the guards do when they're in formation or addressing their superior. I guess Mira is his superior now. I keep forgetting he was made a part of the guard.

"From what I've gathered of Fyko's past, keep in mind much of this information was not willingly given and some didn't even come from him, he was frequently left by friends and other acquaintances throughout his first century. It's a common coping mechanism for someone who is consistently abandoned during developmental years to in turn abandon others before they can get hurt." Mira shrugs like she didn't just admit to a mass invasion of personal privacy. Granted it was probably part of a background check.

"The reason he gets on with me so well is because I let him go where he pleases so long as he returns and does his job as expected. I also don't put up with quite a bit of his behavior and neither does Mykala." She nods to the two down in the training area taking a water break and getting Fyko's various bruises checked. "And despite Serana's crass assessment of the relationship between them," Mira chides throwing a look at me from the corner of her eye, "she wasn't completely inaccurate. Fyko has outright told me that he appreciates my lack of tolerance for many of his antics. He likes knowing peoples boundaries, I think it makes him feel safer knowing what will and won't anger the people around him."

Treale's stance was loosening as he listened to Mira's assessment with more earnest than I've ever seen on him. He nods with a furrowed brow seeming to understand what Mira was getting at. "So you're saying Myka gives him that same sense of security. That makes sense, it also explains why he likes being bullied." He shoots me a lopsided grin and his eyes light up as he seems to think of something. "I don't think I ever told you about the time he 'accidentally on purpose' got honied wine all over Myka's wings then dragged her into the central garden."

I saw Mira's jaw drop as her eyes widened into saucers. "The droc would have attacked her. They love the smell of honied wine, it's how we get them to stay in the garden." Her voice was just short of distressed on the other woman's behalf. Considering the way Mira smelled normally and the way most animals reacted to her I could imagine she'd been in a similar situation before.

Lifting a brow in the taller woman's direction I try not to let my amusement show too plainly. "Speaking from personal experience?"

Wide blue eyes don't even narrow as they turn on me. "Yes! Those things are vicious!" She whisper yells, distress from the memory, coloring her voice. "I still have a scar on my wing from one of them attacking me, maybe twenty-eight or thirty years ago."

Furrowing my brows in disbelief, I look at her wings to try and spot said scar. "You do not. I've groomed through your feathers enough times I would have noticed." My eyes shoot back up to hers by the end of my statement.

"Yes I do." Mira says emphatically. Grabbing my right hand she draws it up to the interior side of her right wing's elbow.

Allowing her to guide my fingers, she runs them over a jagged and broken series of barely raised lines running about the length of my palm just under the downy feathers that coated the top half of her wings.

The size of the scar alarms me more than anything. Shooting my eyes back up to Mira's, she meets my startled gaze with her own 'I told you' look. "Skies Mira, a tiny droc did that?!" I didn't like how high my voice shot, but it was alarming to find a hand sized scar, made by a hand sized creature, on the body of someone you knew intimately.

"Droc, while adorable, are terrifying. The only reason we keep the little fire spits in the castle is because they eat insects and rodents." With that she turns to look back at Treale. "Please tell me Myka got it through his head that droc are never to be messed with." She implores the man.

I glance over my wing to see Treale doing a rather admirable job at containing his laughter. "Oh yes. Of that I can assure you." His tone makes it clear that he wouldn't elaborate unless prompted. Frankly I didn't really want to know what the former rebel would have done as payback, and apparently neither did Mira as she let the subject drop.

"I swear that man has a death wish sometimes." Mira scoffs, rolling her eyes in Fyko's direction.

Treale chuckles softly, tapping the arch of my wing with his. "Well it's n- what was that?" The smile on his face drops as his brow furrows.

Following his gaze I settle my sights on a gap in the rocks floating just south of the main camp. "What'd you see?" I ask, already drawing my bow.

"Something was flying by the rocks, too close to be casual and too small to be a gryph." Drawing his own bow, Treale keeps his eyes trained on the area he spotted the movement in.

The sound of Mira's swords sliding from their sheaths draws my attention away from the rocks."Alert!" She bellows above the din of the camp drawing everyone's attention.

There is a loud conglomeration of metal clanging against metal as the camp comes to full alertness.

"To the north!" A voice cries out from behind us.

Turning to look over my wing I spot a patrol group speeding through the rocks in a clash with another group of rebels. "Mira?" I whirl around to face the other woman.

"Go with Treale to the south, they're trying to divert our forces to the north and south before hitting us from the east to separate us." Mira slips her helmet on and flicks her wing in my best friend's direction. "It's the same scenario we predicted to be the most likely, you know the plan."

Right, go to the southern end of the camp for archery support; because it's the most vulnerable between the north and south and will have less hand-to-hand combat going on than the east. Taking a deep breath, I nod my understanding and turn to Treale.

Looking over his head I could already see the beginnings of a skirmish on the southern boarder. "Rana, we gotta go!" Treale jerks his head prompting me to follow as he dives off the cliff overlooking the former sparring yard.

Taking off after him, I'm forced to dodge around other guards taking off to get into position. Diving under one woman, I barely keep from running into another and have to pull up sharply, losing track of Treale in the process. Not bothering to look for him I continue to weave through the flock of armored angelo, until I reach the highest outcrop set as the back-most line of archery defense.

As I find Treale already perched at our predetermined position, I hear the bellow of lycan war horns. They've begun their attack on the east, the lycans should close in on them from behind and trap them between us. I go over the plan again as I land with a sharp thud next to the older man.

"You ready?" Treale flicks my wing as he draws back his bow preparing for the fast approaching line of counter archers.

"No, not really." I sigh, drawing an arrow from the standing quiver between us and nocking it. "I'd say aiming to not die in the next ten minutes is ready enough."

A low chuckle reaches my ear as we both pull our bows back and fire into the front line of counter archers. "If you die, the queen'll have my head." Treale half shouts as we continue to fire into the oncoming archers. "And I rather like my head."

"Then try to keep it intact." I call back, aiming at a rebel with dark brown and gray wings. The most vulnerable part of any armor was the space between the plates at the first wing joint, right where the wing merged with the wingblade. The way Katal had explained it, the gap was necessary for flight mobility but made a nice target for archers.

Letting the arrow loose, I watch as it cuts through the air towards its mark. The moment the metal arrowhead sinks into feathered flesh the rebel stumbles mid flight and begins to plummet into the wooden spike fences set to catch them.

Dozens of rebel archers fall to their death against the wooden fences; but many make it farther, firing further into our own archer lines.

"Shield!" I hear a commander's bellow across the southern field. A large man stationed just in front of me and to the side quickly follows orders and unfurled his armored wings. The shield bearers across the flank positioned in front of their archer squads spread their metal clad wings to open the plated shields. They were impossible to fly in, effectively grounding the guard but they were all but impenetrable to both arrows and spears.

Treale, myself, and the two other archers firing from our location duck down under our shield bearer. I hear the clang of metal striking metal and dirt as the rebels return a hail of arrows. I'm struck by the unpleasant reminder of rain in a twisted sense.

"Close!" The commander calls again, the shield bearer pulls his wings back in, revealing the sky clouded with rebels beginning to dive at us. Standing back up I fire off as many arrows as I can, taking down at least a half dozen if not more.

Rebel ground fighters have reached the first row of archers and dive bellow their own counter archers to start the hand to hand combat. Leave them, focus on the counter archers. I grit my teeth forcing my awareness away from the slashing of swords and spears and towards the next hail of arrows.

As I watch the arrows beginning to loose from their bows I realize the commander hasn't yelled for the shields. Glancing toward the commander's location I notice she's become distracted barking orders to the front line. Taking a deep breath to fill my chest I scream at the top of my lungs. "Shield!"

The shield bearers across the field hasten to follow my order as their archers begin to duck. Treale has to dive under the half spread shield as arrows rain down like a stuttering waterfall. "Good call Rana."

"Thanks." I gasp out as I wait for the lull in arrow fire. "And stop calling me that. I don't want Mira to pick that up." I scold before turning my attention back to the rebels.

They were waiting for their ground squads to dive bellow them before they could fire again.

That was the bad thing about grouped archery, you had to fire all at once to ensure you didn't hit your own people but it made it easier for the other side to reliably protect themselves. One of the main reasons we held off on confronting them in arial combat, was so we didn't have to worry about hitting our own and could focus on taking out as many as possible.

Now that the front line was compromised the archer teams from the fifth row forward took off along with swords men to initiate the fighting midair. The back five rows stayed and our job was to try and pick off as many archers as we could without hitting our own.

"Why not?" Treale asks, glancing over the top of the shield bearer's wing.

Standing back up straight I snatch another arrow from the half empty standing quiver. "Close!" I shout the command before addressing Treale. "Because it's a childhood nickname, it's just weird." I answer only half paying attention as I continue to fire.

"They're getting too close." The anxiety in Treale's voice has my heart rate galloping like a heard of tuvey. "Serana, neither of us are properly trained in hand-to-hand." He hisses, bringing down another rebel less than two wingspans from us.

"Do you see another choice?!" I snarl, folding my bow and grabbing one of the two spears mounted to the quiver.

"Is running an option?" He questions sarcastically, grabbing the other spear.

"Only if you want to get shot in the back." I retort through gritted teeth. He doesn't immediately respond, prompting me to glance in his direction.

"Love you, Scatter Shot." He shoots me a nervous grin large enough to catch his greater fang.

Oh he did not just bring that up right now. "Love you too, Limp Wing." I shoot back, a small grin pulling at the corner of my lip as adrenaline floods my veins. Sapio have mercy.

The shield bearer motions for us to step aside before charging with his lumbering gate at the oncoming rebels that have managed to land behind us. With spread wings he tackles three rebels at once, pinning them beneath the weight of his armor.

Another close by, goes to use her spear against one of the other archers. My limbs react before I can think and I plunge the spear in my hand forward, slotting it squarely between her helmet and the scale mail that covered most of her neck. That's an uncomfortably vulnerable spot. I note with bile rising up my throat. Looking away from the choking rebel, I pull my spear from her throat and distantly listen to her desperate gasp as she falls to her knees choking on her own blood.

Don't puke. She's not going to be the last. Deep breath. Sucking in as much air into my lungs as I can I turn to the next closest rebel. Lunging forward my spear glances off their shoulder guard and takes a chunk out of their feathers. The rebel's attention diverts to me, allowing Treale to strike from the other side and take her down with another neck strike.

"Serana, back to back." Treale shouts at me turn to face the other direction. Spinning around I allow my wings to lightly glide over his as we fall into the fighting position Katal had us training in for the last couple of weeks.

Treale was facing toward the edge of camp allowing me to see the chaos happening to the west and north. Fear gripped me like icy talons around my throat as I watched barrels being dropped from the back of prel carts. As they collided with the ground the shelf shook as they exploded in a display, not unlike how I imagine sapian's weapons of fire would, forming vortexes and plumbs of smoke and wildfire.

I didn't have time to continue my awestricken staring as more rebels landed and opened up in hand-to-hand combat. Forcing my attention back to my immediate surroundings as I try to focus on not getting killed and ignore the panic in the back of my mind telling me Mirandiona was somewhere in the growing inferno on the western front.