Grandeur Defector

LVIII

At last.
It was dusk by the time the line wholly hit the other side, safe and drenched with death. Every soldier exchanged glances with those standing next to them, each pair of eyes disturbed or confused by the sheer brutality of a seemingly calm river alone.
Entropy: it was everywhere.
In the waters, on the rocks, the trees, the fields.
They trekked onwards in their march for victory for another mile, the smell of decay sticking to every single one of them much to their disliking, clothes reeking and heads reeling. The line halted as the moon began to rise, and the superiors barked another order to their forlorn men.
"WE REST HERE FOR THE NIGHT!"

At those words, Truffles heard dozens of relieved sighs escape the air as some soldiers collapsed onto the ground at last, their feet already forming blisters that broke skin. The tiger couldn't help but utter a sigh as well, feeling exhausted. How long had they walked without stopping for rest? Sure, there were snacks to go around, but they hadn't rested in what felt like ages. 13 miles of territory conquered: 42 miles to go.
Flippy sway on his feet a little, but didn't sit. Instead, he set down the bag in his hands to the ground and lumbered over to the other superiors.
I keep forgetting he's a higher rank than I am. Now, he's technically mine— and many others'— superior.

He sat down with a thud himself, feeling the grass beneath him. It was green in this area, feeding off of the rot a mile away from it as its roots grew into new life. The grass was soft enough to sleep on; he ran his fingerless gloves through the green blades, each fingertip touching the dew settling in on the tips. There was a soft, cool breeze that had began to stir, the valley receiving the wind from the west.
Truffles felt something hit his chest, making him flinch. He scanned his body to see what it was, realizing it was his dog tag calmly flowing in the wind, hitting the center of his chest in a music-less melody to nature. He touched the tag and rubbed it, the metal smooth beside the etching.
I forgot I have a dog tag now. It feels... so strange to have my name be on me as identification.
Truffles peered at the bag he was sharing with Flippy and unzipped the top of it, rustling through the contents inside. He grabbed both bottles of Flippy's medication, unlocked the tops, and grabbed a pill from both, setting the pills aside.
He put back the pill bottles and grabbed a hair brush, deciding the brush out the hair on his head and his mullet. The fur was knotted and it struggled against the brush, resisting until it parted into its usual neatness. He untied his boots and slid each one off, then his socks. At the bottom of one foot was a blister forming in between two toe digits uncomfortably from the rubbing as he walked. He sighed and let his feet feel the grass cushioning him, the greenery relieving some of the pain attached to the injury. He heard Flippy's voice shout a command for once.
"Food will go around in rations tonight!"

The soldiers responded in murmurs of excitement to eat a meal, enjoying the words of the sergeant. Inwardly, Truffles' heart leaped a little.
He's doing a good job at this despite being new to the position. He really does make a good sergeant... and boyfriend. I should remind him that he's loved, I know he's under stress. He should hear it.
He recalled the cooks that made him beef noodles and how kind they were to him, wondering if they were going to be handing out rations. From the back of the line there was a noise of something hitting the grass hard; he turned to see what it was.
Alex had carried a box of some kind, setting it down on the grass. Flippy walked over to him and began a conversation not in earshot of Truffles' own ears, then began opening the crate. A sudden pull to do something stirred in him.
I want to help.

Truffles didn't bother putting his shoes back on, ignoring how informal it would be. Instead, he jogged over to the two men and the crate, feeling the dirt hit the bottom of his feet with each step. As he approached, Flippy was pulling out beige bags labeled "GRAIN" on them while Alex grabbed smaller boxes and pulled them out of the crate, staking on top of each other in his arms. The boxes were labeled differently with each one, but seemed to either say "MEAT" or "VEGETABLES". Flippy glanced over at him, surprised.