GRAVESKIES

Chapter 1

Ryujin wondered what random object would fall from the sky today. She was hungover and she'd nearly died a couple of days ago so, really, she wasn't feeling picky.

Ryujin Volta knew the frontline by the cricket song. The ground was hard under her body. Grass rustled outside the tent—wistful whispers skimming by her eardrums. Dewy musk bloomed in her lungs. The stillness frightened her and, for a moment, she couldn't distinguish where she was. Her chest had grown too tight.

Then it was okay. As long as she could open her eyes to dirty blonde hair, pale freckled skin and crude green eyes, it would all be okay.

Willow noticed her move. She nuzzled Ryu's cheek, breath fanning over her neck, and shit, didn't that feel like it was much easier to forgive the world for everything it'd done to them.

"God, you snore."

They hadn't slept one next to the other in a long while. Hadn't comforted each other since the trenches. The night had been chilly, so Willow had asked her to cuddle. Ryujin's wings protected them both from the cold, but Ryu knew only one of them was a guardian angel, and it wasn't her.

"D'I stop you from sleeping?" Ryu mumbled.

"Take a guess."

"Good. You deserve it."

"C'mon, you know I didn't mean for last night to happen!" Willow's chest rumbled warmly with every word.

"Didn't mean it, my ass. You enjoyed every bit, you smug bastard."

"I'm sorry. Next time we get drunk I'll give up my childhood friend privileges and protect your scary warrior façade. Sound good?"

Ryu grunted when Willow poked her in the ribs. "Piece o' shit."

She hid her face in Willow's shoulder and hoped the war would come late. For some reason, she felt young that morning, something so rare it made her forget she was twenty-one.

Untangling her limbs from Willow's, Ryu hoisted herself up, got refreshed and took a walk through the military camping site. She went way beyond the establishment until she reached the battlefield. It still burned red and smelled toxic, closer to the Federation's borders than the Emperor would have it. She couldn't feel very much about the ravished plains, and she had long ago learned how not to cry over the fact that she was here, and not at university or on a date.

Such is the life of deviants.

Ryu climbed over and out of the trenches, sky opening wide at her feet. Early sunrays kissed her skin. Wind grazed her cheeks. Thick trees concealed the camp in her wake, but out here it felt like she could stare the rival nation dead in the eye. Ryu hoped that someday someone would look over that place and feel anything other than terror.

At least they were making money. At least she would soon meet a god.

When she returned, her comrades were awake, so she had a good enough distraction. The camp canteen's retractable polyester walls had been drawn back, clearing the room for a wide, airy corner of the establishment, painted in morning gold and daisy whites. Invigorated, she joined her divison for breakfast.

"Morning!" Buff, smiling General Kran had scarred brown skin and unruly hair in a sloppy ponytail. Every day, he abandoned the higher officers' quarter to pass time with his soldiers.

"Morning, General!" she grinned, feathers bristling, and shoved money into his palm. "I'm betting thirty scai."

"What, ya' feeling lucky today?"

"Hell yeah."

He weighed the coins in his hand. "You sure? Wouldn't want you to waste all your savings just 'cause you're stubborn."