Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Honor to glory
And iron to rust
Hate to bloodshed
From rise to fall
If I never have to die
Am I alive at all?
Apocalypse State of Mind – Aviators
-
April 22, 2871, Morning
Finally, finally, dawn came. The sky lightened, fraction by fraction, until the glow of the Traveler and the newly-risen moon paled in comparison. The occasional bold bird let out a few morning calls. The sun wasn't above the horizon, and probably wouldn't crest the mountains for another hour yet beyond that, but the world gained definition and color once obscured in darkness.
Jaren Ward's eyes were blue. His hair was a dirty blonde. His face held the barest hints of smile lines, when it wasn't screwed into a look of concentration. Azra's cloak was bloodstained now, along with the soot and dirt and ether. At least it helped her blend in. Her armor was battered to hell.
Worrying, the ground around them was trampled with obvious Fallen prints, headed in both directions. Several large groups had moved through the small valley the two Hunters now traveled. The prints were older, at least, dried in the streambed mud. Maybe that meant the Fallen had cleared out of this area. Maybe it meant that they were overdue for a run-in with a patrol. There were no other human prints.
"Let's take a rest," Jaren proposed when they came to a sheltered bend. The air was quiet, at least for the time being. The ravine they were in blocked any sound of gunfire that might come from the Wall.
"I'm fine. I can keep going," Azra protested. Only partially a lie. Her whole body ached. Her legs were unsteady beneath her. But she could muster the strength to carry on. She hadn't slept for nearly thirty-six hours at this point (not much of a feat, for Guardians), and she'd been on the move for over twenty of those. She was bone-weary. But not at her limit.
Jaren shook his head. "A break will do us both good. 'Sides, we need to figure out a plan. We're getting close."
Azra shrugged and settled down, back against a rock, SMG on her lap. Spark made short work of healing her aching calves and clearing the sleep deprivation from her eyes. Jaren Ward crouched next to her. His Ghost projected a map in the air.
"What's your Ghost's name, by the way?" Azra asked unthinkingly. A second later, she cursed her loose lips. Both the tan machine and its Guardian turned curious eyes towards her while she scrambled to backtrack. "I mean, you don't gotta tell me, it just seems a little rude to not ask after all this time."
Jaren smiled. "This is Toho," he said, "'s from this old legend 'bout a mountain lion, back in the Americas." Azra nodded at the small machine in greeting. Spark gave a friendly bob. Jaren's eyes moved to Azra's Ghost, who lingered in realspace. "Turnabout is fair play. What's your name, Little Light?"
"I am Spark," the Ghost replied.
"It's 'cause he gives static shocks when you touch his shell," Azra added.
Spark made a scandalized noise. "You said it wasn't about the shocks!"
A small smile touched Azra's lips. "I lied." She held on to the small bit of warmth the humor ignited in her chest.
Jaren snickered. "Well, it's a fine name in any case. But let's get back to it."
Azra shook her head and pulled out a bit of jerky to chew on. "Right, right. We're about... here." She pointed to the projected map. They were more west than north of the City, following the path of a streambed nearly dried up with the recent drought. "We keep heading down this river channel, we'll come out hereish."
YOU ARE READING
You've Got Time ( a Destiny Story)
Fanfiction"No one can open the Vault alone. I opened the Vault. There was no one with me but I was not alone." A team of six entered the Vault of Glass. Kabr fought and died. Praedyth was captured. Pahanin ran. Two were cut away, and one hid. This story story...
