I Am A Flyer

II: Comfort

Usually an early riser, Suil had started to sleep in long past sunrise. That is, when he was allowed to. Kamra apparently believed in the 'early bird gets the worm' theory, for he tended to wake Suil up at the crack of dawn. Today, the trainee found himself opening his eyes to a dark tent. It was still dark outside, a few lit lanterns being the only source of light.

Slightly disoriented, it took him a few moments to realize that the reason for his early awakening was the rather large din that the other flyers were raising. Instead of sleeping like they were supposed to, the young flyers were busy gossiping together like they had just received some kind of major news. Which probably was what exactly had happened.

Suil shrugged himself up onto his elbows, wearing a bleary scowl. Out of all places, he and the other trainees had to get stuck in this tent. The younger, lessor, inexperienced flyer tent. It made sense, as most of the flyers assigned here were green, having seen only one or two serious battles in their entire lifetime. They still viewed the whole thing as being a grand adventure, and bore none of the deep grimness that the older veteran flyers had. They hadn't seen enough people die, they hadn't killed enough of the enemy. And so they still indulged in their childish foolishness, having fun in their careless ways.

It annoyed Suil.

He'd be the first to admit that he was just as innocent and green as the others, if not even more so. But he still preferred the calmness of the veterans, their steady, knowing silence. They were the ones who won the battles, and they were the ones most likely to survive.

He stifled a yawn, looking over to his right. Craig was awake as well. The willowy boy was sitting still, his large, grave eyes silently watching everything. "What's going on?" Suil asked him.

Craig glanced at him, then looked away, not bothering to reply. Suil should have known. The River trainee hardly spoke. Still, there was something about him that didn't quite feel right to Suil. Maybe there was something wrong with Craig, hence why he didn't speak.

"Jett's returned," Iern's voice answered from the other side of Suil. The Scout trainee turned, regarding the large teen.

"Jett's back?" He repeated, not sure if he had heard right.

The former bully snorted, then pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on top. "You deaf or something?" He sneered. "That little wimp apparently came back about an hour ago."

Suil noted that while Iern's words were degrading, there was no real malice in them. He smiled inwardly. He sat up fully, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. "So where is he now?"

Iern shrugged. "According to the rumors, he's in several places at once. With the Council, with the Twelve, in a body bag, in the medic tent, stuffing his face in the food tent, with Raven and the Council having a hoe-down, or – this is my favourite – in the medic tent again, but this time in a billion shattered pieces, so bad that you can't even tell he was human."

Slipping his feet into his boots, Suil began to do up the buckles. He managed to suppress his rising irritation, reminding himself that Iern and Jett weren't exactly best friends. He quickly finished with one boot, then moved onto the next.

Knowing his friend's condition before he was spirited away by the infamous Talon flyer, it made sense that Jett would probably be in the medic tent. Though he hoped that Jett was in one piece, rather than a billion. He knew from experience that learning to fly was no easy task. He himself had nearly broken both ankles, and had definitely cracked a rib or two during the process. It would've been worse if Derris hadn't been so careful about the whole thing.

Done with his boots, he reached down and picked up the vest-like armor that was supposed to cover most of his upper body. Fastening the thing on proved to be rather troublesome, but a minute later, it was done. It felt like he had just gained ten pounds. The rest of the armor – smaller pieces on the legs and arms – he had left on when he had gone to bed the night before. It appeared that most flyers did the same, so they didn't have to spend a few minutes every morning strapping things on.