Grandeur Defector

XLII

"Alright fellas, I was tasked to get a team rolling out by noon so here we go."

Corporal Flippy flipped through two pieces of paper back and forth, squinting down at the words scribbled. In comparison to his hands, the paper looked incredibly tiny in size. He paused for a moment; just out of the corner of Truffles' eye, one of the team members raised her hand. Flippy glanced up and pointed at her.

"Yes, Cass?"

"Why am I going again?" Cass stared back, confused.

It was a question Truffles was wondering silently to himself since Flippy had called 3 soldiers and a medic out of their tents to line up, as if to roll call. The corporal didn't seem to know exactly his own role's job was, new to the higher rank and unfamiliar with being in control of a team separate from Warren's orders.
Well, somewhat. Warren did task him to send out a border patrol.
But Cass?
Cass— the only living Animalia medic on the field within a 15 mile radius— stood lined with the soldiers awkwardly, her thin frame a stark contrast to her superior. She had a satchel bag that rested on top of the base of her tail, the color a standard beige. Her usual medic attire was now beige as well, sporting the Private soldier status uniform; the single stripe on each shoulder was replaced with an orange plus sign instead. Despite her uniform looking inconspicuous, Cass' belt said far more about her than anything— bottles of medicine, a foot cream for rashes, bandaids and familiar packets of a particular drug.
Truffles swallowed.
Morphine.
The drug that makes the pain of everything go away.

"We need ground first aid," Flippy explained, his expression a mix of both uneasiness and usual charm.

Truffles decided to chime in.
"Having a medic near us will—"

"Who the fuck thought to bring that one?"

Flippy glared at the person who'd interrupted, but Truffles didn't need to, as he knew exactly who it had been. Dice huffed and coughed once, shifting on his feet as if impatient. Everyone in the line rolled their eyes, some groaning with annoyance by the divide in the team. None of them had set one foot out of camp, but there was already a very clear dislike for one of the members. Truffles smiled to himself.
Even the Animalia soldiers are irritated that I haven't been accepted by some. The other two soldiers here are quite nice.

It was the slender mink who was Brutus' friend— Gale, Truffles had learned his name— and a tall rabbit who he didn't know the name of. They peeked past Cass and waved at him in a friendly manner; the tiger smiled and waved back at his teammates. Dice huffed dramatically again.

"I don't get why—"

"—CAN it," Flippy snapped. "Can it like a tin can of sardines. Nobody wants to hear your specism."

Dice shut his mouth.

That's right... higher ranks can have a lower rank fired easier. Hah!
Flippy pointed to each of the soldiers in their respective places.
"Dice, you're on arms defense. Gale, you're on ammunition. Tucker, you're on medical assist; Cass, you're our lifeblood. We need you with us at all times. Truffles—"

Truffles stopped slouching and straightened his back after hearing his name.

"—You're in caboose, which means you'll be assisting in cover."

Dice snickered, a noise just loud enough that everyone turned their heads in response, all eyes landing back on him.

"Sorry, sorry. Just what the fuck's that name? Come on, 'Truffles'? That's so—"

"—Can I not treat him if he takes a hit?" Cass loudly asked, her tail thrashing along with the tiger's. Both felines stood visibly agitated, and although they weren't close, both of them could understand exactly how they felt by reading their body.
She's angry and feels empathetic for me in this. Given how my fur is spiking, she probably knows that bothered me too.
Dice's snarky smile dropped instantly.