Black Dove

37

A good spy didn't just wear the get-up. It was a character, a persona, an alter ego. This one was carefully thought through. Joan was dead. I was Jolene.

When I entered my room, there was a package sitting on my bed. A note laid there that read, "happy birthday. -R" I smiled at the thought. He must've dropped it off this morning when I was gone. I ripped it apart to find that a silvery padded thing was there. I felt it a bit more before recognizing the bulletproof material that was known to be exclusive to Majors and Generals. How did he get this? When I put it on, I realized that he must've gotten it tailored for a small boy, since it didn't fit around the bust. It forced me to wrap the girls up and away in order to maximize my protection. Roy would not even be able to get his head through.

The clothes were from the fight we had at the Shardorian tents. Luckily, the tailor hadn't finished taking apart all the clothing when I snuck in and stole them away. I tucked them in a small bag, the dark leather coat with red zippers, and the pants with red stitching.

Lucky for me, Blue Paw city had poor security since all their men were going to bed early or hitting the bars before the invasion tomorrow morning. It made it that much easier to sneak away on horseback into the dark night. The woods were illuminated by nothing more than a thin slice of moon.

After changing in the dark and tucking away my Blue Paw uniform, I rode towards Polaris, the north star. It was not long before I became lost between unfamiliar grounds. The nightly cold was setting in, making my muscles feel stiff and my skin paper thin waiting to crack and bleed. I could only hear the hooves of this horse, it's labored breathing and my obnoxious heart beat. That means you're alive. Good.

Hours must have passed. I knew it was somewhere north, a little west. What was I thinking? I wasn't even a navigator. I slowly pulled the horse to a stop while I searched for a tree with a good hand hold. It took me a few tries to get high enough to see over other trees and peer into the dark sky. Blues, navies, and blacks blended together and challenged my eyes to make shape of it. Eventually, far ahead and to the left, I spotted a few sharp peaks; the foliage did not challenge the structure in height. Even from here, I could tell that the General's description of Shardor was true; a tall city built on a mound, with little to no woods surrounding it.

On the way down, my boot slipped on the limb, bark falling off. The below swallowed my leg, and thanks to my death-grip on the branches above me, I hadn't completely fallen. As soon as I put my leg again on the barkless branch, it slipped once more. Within thirty feet, the branches punished me in the chest, side, arm, and thigh. Lying in frozen mud with a thump and a yelp, the horse whinnied and scurried. I must have frightened him.

"Come back! Come back, please!" I plead from the ground, gripping my newborn bruises. Gravity gave more of a beating than training ever did.

I gazed at the sliver of moon, partially to curse it, and partially to see how much it's moved since I left. I was in trouble, since it was clear off it's apex. I left at eleven, which felt like two and a half hours ago. The invasion would begin as the sun rose.

Another climb to check my position was too risky. Now that I had a good idea of where the city stood, I used the compass that Greg gifted me. It wasn't long before I started finding tracks leading back, and I was able to up my pace. I couldn't fail Ajax for losing the horse, and I definitely couldn't fail the thousands of lives that were at stake.

By the time I reached the gate, the sun was right around the corner; a contagious baby blue was beginning to unveil the shroud of night, and within an hour the destruction would begin. Their walls were made from tall sharpened tree trunks, a few heads bobbed on the other side. The drawbridge, too, had to be several layers of thick wood. In between me and the bridge was a deep chasm, twenty feet down, twenty feet across.