When Given a Lemon

Part 3

That night I tossed and turned, annoying the closest cadets attempting to sleep that has already shown their dislike of me on our march today. They were part of a troop of cadets that joined us from the eastern front and for some reason had the most terrible opinion of us. So naturally they used my fitfulness as an excuse to act upon those feelings.

“Gods, Keenah! Can’t you keep still for even one night and let the rest of us sleep?!” One of them hissed from the shadows. It’s not as if I was being loud or doing it on purpose! “Completely worthless, I can’t believe we have to share such close quarters with such a filthy smell!”

"Yeah, you really smell like shit," another cut in. I couldn't tell if they were saying so just to bother me or if that suspiciously gross puddle was wafting off me.

“At least they’ll be quickly taken care of once we finally reach the battlefield." The first continued on, "Piss-on peasants are the first to be sent to the front, then sent home in crates."

"You're just human shields for the rest of us!” Someone else quipped in the darkness and the rest snickered. As horrible as their words were, their unimaginative conversation seemed to be just each one repeating after the other like a group of echos. I pretended to be asleep, thinking it was the best chance I had avoiding any possibility of physical confrontation.

Besides, I'd much rather deal with their stupid taunts than dream of the old man's scary face while he tries to drown me with a wet sock, which was what popped into my mind each time I closed my eyes.

I woke chilled to the bone and with a crick in my back that made sitting up a little bit of a challenge. Wiping my bleary eyes I come to find out I am covered in a slimy liquid that I am afraid to guess at.

My closest neighbors are already up and watching expectantly, undoubtedly the cause of whatever this is.

I try not to react, forcing down the gag reflex, knowing that is exactly what they want. Instead I gather myself up to stow my now very unpleasant smelling bedroll as if nothing is remiss. I'm just glad it's mostly on the outside of the bedding. My old staff sergeant wouldn't have stood for this but I have a feeling our new leader would applaud them for it.

Despite the fact that it's still dark and the area is shrouded in a heavy chill mist, most have already prepared themselves for the day. No doubt we are going to spend the entirety of it marching. My goal is to do so without something gross stuffed into my mouth. Even the overheated and watered down soup last night couldn't remove the residual taste that still lingered now. I stomped my foot into my boots, the soles of which already caused my feet to ache. It was going to be a long day ahead.

They gave us time for a brisk meal before we set off again, though they changed our formations around before we left, no longer allowing us to group together with those we knew. I hadn't had a chance to speak with Mirth. I owe her an apology for the trouble I'd caused. Instead to either side of me are people I was not very familiar with. One, the son of a fisherman from Seaport, the other with the tall height and dark, thick hair of an islander. Neither offered their names before we were sent off on our silent march.

I decided that I would try to think of a game in my head since we weren't allowed to speak. First I tried 'count how many trees we pass' but then we reached the foot of a hill that was packed with closely grown conifers and I quickly gave up. Then I tried 'spy the wildlife' but with the amount of us, even without talking we were far from quiet. The constant shuffle, stomp, swish, crack, and crunching of our boots alerted any wildlife long before we ever had a chance to spot them so my count was up to two birds.

Besides, the climb kept getting steeper and steeper, eventually garnering my full attention. I was thankful that they only made me carry two of the three packs I had toted around the day before. I wouldn't have survived this with any additional burden!