Page 82 of The Last Dragon
Sam runs up to me with scrolls, and notes, and ink-stained hands. A pen juts out between his teeth. He unfolds a paper, jagged at the edges, ink and dirt smudged at the corners, with different signatures of various Medics from each unit.
He pulls out the pen and says. “Three soldiers are suffering from too much sun exposure. Heatstroke.”
“That’s three soldiers less.” I clench my teeth, disappointment crawling under my skin. “Anyone from our unit?”
Sam glances at me, then back at the parchments. “How are you?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, and he quickly takes note of that. He doesn’t ask anything more. He knows I’d be honest with him if I didn’t feel well.
“Anything else?” I ask once he’s done with his notes.
He shakes his head. “Everyone else is fine, sir.”
I furrow a brow. The mention of Sir coming from Sam’s mouthtakes me aback.Commander, I remind myself. He takes note of my displeasure and presses his lips into a tight smile before stepping back and returning to formation. I glance around once more. Everyone is in their rightful spots. Including Theo. Good.
I wave my hand in a circle and yell out. “Formation! Medyn!” The lieutenants repeat my words from each direction—spreading my command. As if pulled by the same thread, everyone begins to march.
Long hours pass. The sun climbs to its highest point, glaring down from the cloudless sky. Sarga swirls around, casting a shadow with her large wings for some soldiers to take refuge infrom the merciless heat. Most soldiers try to lift their feet more instead of dragging them around, to prevent more dust from mingling in the air and suffocating our lungs. Each inhale tastes like sun-baked iron and burned wood. Even Redsnout’s fire is less oppressive than the noon sun. I walk with my unit tucked in the back of the formation, with elite soldiers—those that have been in the Corps longer than six years—flanking us. Hawks glide calmly through the air, no threat in sight.
Raumen strides beside me, fanning his face. His armor must be brutal in the heat.
“Need water?” I ask, not looking at him.
He chuckles, peeking to the farthest side of the formation. “Already got plenty.”
His gaze lands on Theo, scurrying to keep up with the formation and the wagons pulled by trotting horses. Then his eyes return to mine. I smile. Raumen’s kind. Maybe a little too kind for his own good. He’s the type that wouldn’t take the last piece of bread even if he starved. Because he knows if he’s starving, someone else is too.
I look up at Sarga again, soaring through the sky, doing a little loop to entertain herself. I feel warm—her calmness has a way of keeping me in check. Raumen shoots a look in my direction once more, then looks at the sky.
“Sarga’s closer than the rest,” he says with a grin
“She has a fondness for me, I guess you could say.” I smile.
He purses his lips, clearing his throat. “Can’t believe she stuck with you for so long.”
I don’t respond to that, but a sense of emptiness settles in my chest, the type of void nothing can fill. I glance up, watching a feather fall from Sarga’s wings.
You shouldn’t be here with me. But I’m grateful that you are.
Ilian peeks around Raumen’s shoulder, darting his eyes from me to Nida to Sam. Then his eyes linger on me for a bit. With a smile, he pulls out dried meat from his satchel.
“Sheep, anyone?” he says.
Nida’s eyes grow wide. “Where did you get this?” She reaches for the thin strips of mutton as Ilian hands them out to everyone.
“I asked one of the Scouts to bring one back for this purpose. I thought we’d need some. Good to get some energy before Medyn.”
“Depends on whether we’ll need to stop at Medyn,” I comment.
“We won’t be stopping?” Ilian exclaims, the strip nearly falling out of his hand.
“I’d rather get us to safety as fast as possible.”
Ilian shrugs. “Fair,” he says and takes a bite of the mutton strip.
I tear a piece and bite down. It’s tough at first, like leather, and my jaw aches as I chew. The salt stings my tongue, but later the taste of meat comes through—strong, gamey, and a little smoky. It’s good.
I take a breath and welcome a much needed breeze while enjoying the residue of meat covering my tongue. Soon, we’ll be near Medyn. Soon, we’ll be behind the safety of the Stronghold’s walls.
