War Bird

33. Hear me, Honey.

So here we are. Finally. We're up top. We've been rushed straight from the boardroom and out, with little time to complain. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe doing this good deed and helping the effort will be my ticket home. Or maybe this will be the last time I ever see the night sky or Asher’s face. 

The compound exit brings us out into pitch darkness, but my eyes soon adjust and I see we're in a tiny clearing in a wooded area. Long grass brushes my shins, and I can hear the dry rustle of leaves. I tilt my head up and through the spindly fingers of the trees I can see stars. The air smells dry, of earth and smoke. I look back at Finlay. He's crouching, eyes moving quickly and he has one hand raised, telling us to be silent. Asher stands behind him, gripping his rifle so tightly I hear his knuckles crack. 

Finlay stretches his arm out over the door in the ground, and whispers something. The grass around it suddenly shakes as if waking up and sluggishly crawls over the door. Then, it shakes again and settles, leaving the door completely hidden. The Occulta spell.

"Alright," he whispers. "We're ready to go. The drop is happening a hundred yards that way." He points behind him. "There's an old farm track the other side of the trees where we will liaise with the driver." He looks at Private Christopher. "You stay here and guard the entry. Be ready to open it when we return. You." He turns to Private William. "Take the rear. True and Asher, stay by me."

"And do what?" I say, just as Asher moves protectively in front of me.

"Hopefully nothing," Finlay replies. "It's a supply pick-up. Should be very straightforward. All you’ll need to do is help carry the goods. Now, let's go." He nods at Private Christopher, who drops to a crouch and claps his hands together. I feel a surge of warmth come from his direction- must be a tutella shield or, oh God, what was the other protection spell? Asti? Something like that? A cold panic makes me shudder and I look back at the trapdoor, or actually, where the trapdoor was. It's now completely invisible.

"Sis?" Asher puts a warm hand on my shoulder.

"It’s all good." I nod, my face burning as Finlay looks back at me. Despite the darkness, I know he's annoyed. Annoyed at having to bring me up with him, annoyed he doesn't have his usual crack team of soldiers. Also, it’s obvious that a supplies drop is way beneath the almighty Captain Finlay. So why is he even here? His arm’s not healed fully. I’m barely able to protect myself and Asher has just a naff old gun. It just doesn’t make sense that Kull would send such a useless crew to pick up the all-important supplies.

Finlay moves. Oh God. Here we go. We’re going to walk through Nazi-Occupied France in the dead of night. No big deal. I step forward on shaking legs. The grass swishes as we walk through it and it's like the loudest sound in the world. 

We cross into the tree line and immediately the swishing sound gives way to crunching twigs and leaves. Twigs snag at my hair and cheeks as we move and I bat them out of the way. With every noisy, snapping step I cringe a bit more. I'm going to get us killed, I think and my heart beats a trippy bass against my ribs. I force myself to concentrate on the back of Finlay’s neck, on the confident line of his shoulders. I’m okay. I will be okay, because he’s here.

A few minutes later, we're the other side of the wooded area, looking over a field. We stop for a sec and catch our breath. The sky opens up here, stars twinkling all the way down the horizon. It's so beautiful. In the distance I can see little yellow lights, which must be the nearest village.

"We follow the tree line along the edge of the field, stick to the dark," Finlay says in a sharp whisper. "Then we'll reach the track. The courier is due in three minutes."

Kull briefed us before we left, saying that the truck driver won't wait for more than two minutes if we aren't there, so we can't dawdle. We turn left, following the edge of the woods around the field. The ground is uneven, so we have to do a weird kind of trot to make good progress. I nearly go flying a couple of times, and my right ankle soon starts to twinge. We make the meeting point in time though, Finlay checking his watch and giving us a grim thumbs up. We hunker down to the ground, just at the tree line, and wait. Finlay is to my left, Asher and his rifle are to my right, their bodies pushed up against my sides. A rock is jabbing into my ribcage and I shuffle uncomfortably. It’s the bit of my chest that got hurt when I was attacked. I wriggle a bit more.