Wings

Chapter 20: The Raid

With a silent line of warriors behind and in front of me, we navigated the streets of London. We didn't have to creep along the whole time but The Recovery had an extensive knowledge of Strazier's hold over the city; Louis and Niall seemed to have every building memorized and were able to warn us when we were close to one that was used as a base for the tyrant's soldiers.

It was near one of these commandeered homes that my heart stopped; we were crouched beneath a row of windows in the wall of the home, slowly picking our way through the rubble in the street while keeping our heads below the sill. We were unsure if there were soldiers inside so silence was a necessary precaution. 

I was beside Josh, watching where he placed his feet and copying to avoid the glass and other rubbish that would crunch. The two of us were centered under the row of five windows, the exact worst spot to be when a crash happens above you and one of the windows is blasted apart. Glass reigned down, missing us barely. Angry voices rang across the quiet street, the area suddenly alive with energy. We all froze, my eyes locking with Louis who was three people ahead and seeing the fear I felt reflected in his eyes.

But once the words being shouted registered in my head, I realized the soldiers were fighting amongst themselves. "You finished the last of the mead!" one enraged voice complained.

"Wasn't only for you," another voice slurred.

The sound of a fist connecting with flesh ensued and the oblivious soldiers began a brawl over the alcohol. Liam waved his hand lightly, urging everyone to continue moving. The noise from their tift was the perfect cover and we managed to remove ourselves from the vicinity of the house quicker than when the soldiers inside had been silent.

At the edge of the cobblestone streets, on the outskirts of London, everyone was able to relax. Here, the roads turned to gravel and dirt and stretched into the woods and fields beyond, a beautiful sight. I miss this, I thought, the longing for my family's old trips to the country for picnic laden weekends running through my mind. I missed the simplicity of those days.

We took a minute to breathe in fresh air and clean wind after the somewhat rancid fumes of the decaying city, and gulp down water from the canteens we each carried. Some of the boys who were carrying heavier weaponry set it down for a momentary rest. Harry carried a huge shield across his back, as wide a shield as he could strap on without it interfering with his wings. He let it clunk to the ground and rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension the straps had dug into his muscles. Part of me longed to ease the strain and knead his shoulders with my hands but no, I reminded myself,  that would not be happening.

I looked away from his lean figure and towards Liam, who had been more or less leading the group thus far. He had the head of his axe planted on the grass and was leaning on the handle with his elbow, surveying his reconnaissance group.

He waited another minute for everyone to reassemble themselves, flinging packs back onto backs and making final adjustments to the straps of weapons. I tightened the strap of the quiver, then reached over my head and felt for the bow, reassuring myself that it had not fallen from where I had stored it for traveling through the city.

"And we're off," Liam announced, turning and heading down the path. "We'll only be following this for a mile, then we need to hit the forest," he let us know. I felt as though he were making the announcement for my benefit, as everyone else here had come on a raid in this area before.

Niall stepped in beside me, idly chatting as we walked, talking about another raid they'd done in these woods and the "epicness" of the battle in which they had beautifully swiped the goods with hardly a scratch to themselves.

All too soon, our group pulled off the path. "We can't risk running into the wagon in open space, we need the element of surprise," Niall explained as we stepped over a large fallen branch to begin traveling a lightly worn footpath through the brush. "The wagons usually arrive around dusk so could walk on the road longer but if they were running ahead of schedule somehow we wouldn't want to be caught off guard."