Where The Ground Trembles

In The Shadow of Ashes -04

Davis forced himself to hold Richardson's gaze, even as his instincts screamed at him to back away. The familiar lines in Richardson's face seemed harder now, as if etched in stone, giving him an air of authority that felt unnatural—almost oppressive.

"Understood, Sergeant," Davis replied, keeping his tone steady, though his heart was pounding. He took another step back, feeling the comforting weight of his knife at his side. "Just thought I'd check in, is all."

Richardson's smile didn't waver, but his eyes tracked Davis with a cold, unsettling focus. "Good to see initiative, Corporal. This war's full of... surprises. Best to stay vigilant."

Davis nodded stiffly, then turned, forcing himself to walk away at a steady pace, though every instinct told him to run. He could feel Richardson's gaze boring into his back, even after he passed a row of tents that blocked his view. Only when he was sure he was out of sight did he pause, leaning against a tent post to steady himself.

Something wasn't adding up, and Davis's mind kept circling back to the same question: if that was Richardson he'd just spoken to, then who had been in the tent earlier?

The camp around him had settled into the quiet murmur of night. Soldiers were huddled around low-burning fires, their faces cast in orange light. Somewhere nearby, he heard the soft, melancholic hum of someone playing a harmonica, drifting through the stillness. It was the kind of peace he would've welcomed any other night, but now, it felt like a facade—a thin layer masking something far darker.

As he made his way back to his own tent, Davis's thoughts returned to Ben's casual remark about Richardson's double visit, and the strange tension he'd felt when talking to Richardson near the supply wagons. He knew he couldn't ignore it. Whether it was his own paranoia or something more, he needed answers.

Just as he reached his tent, he nearly collided with Ben, who was weaving his way back from the fire, a grin plastered across his face. "You missed out, Davis! They brought out the last of the whiskey, and I had just enough to make me feel invincible."

Davis managed a faint smile, but he could tell from Ben's look that his own unease was still showing. Ben's grin faded, and he tilted his head. "Hey, you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Davis hesitated, then leaned in closer. "I don't know what's going on, but something's wrong with Richardson."

Ben's eyebrows shot up. "What, old Stoneface? Did he finally lose his temper?"

Davis shook his head. "No. It's just... I think I saw him twice tonight. Or maybe I didn't. I don't even know how to explain it."

Ben gave him a searching look, then patted his shoulder. "Look, maybe it's just all the stress getting to you. You've been through hell, Davis. We all have."

"Maybe," Davis murmured, but his gut told him otherwise.

Ben squinted, as if piecing something together, and then gave Davis a half-smile. "Tell you what. Tomorrow, when things settle down, I'll go talk to him myself. See if I can figure out why you're getting spooked."

Davis nodded, grateful for Ben's usual confidence, even if it didn't ease the feeling that something was lurking just beyond his understanding..