Alternate Realities

Prompt: Hindsight

chaoslaborantin: Can write something extremely sad and angsty? Like killing Clara or Farley and let the other one grieve? Or have still-alive-at-the-end Maven think about Cal's death? Turn the angsty grief over Shade into something tangible by including Mare (and Kilorn)'s childhood memories? Well, whatever suits you. Let your dementors runs free^^°  

Answer:

Mare leaned back against the tree, Kilorn handed her a sandwich. She examined it for a moment. The bread was stale and hard, the filling made from mustard and eggs. The first bite threatened to crack her teeth, but it was food, and protein at that. The murmur about a supply convoy must have been true. Kilorn wasn't as picky, she saw bite marks in the paper wrap. He chomped greedily. Their rations were the same, but looking up at him, calorie for calorie, he required more. Most of the men were shrinking into themselves at a faster rate than the women. But all was fair in the Scarlet Guard. Rations for one equaled the rations for any other.

Tick, tick, tick. Thunk. Thunk. Scrape. Clash.

She balanced her meal on her knee and covered her ears. Kilorn turned into her, his fingers pressed to his ear drums. His shoulder shielded her.

Boom! The mortar launched up in a wide arch and twisted down over the valley. Dust kicked up from the recoil. She watched the slight smokey trail marking it's trajectory. Something launched up from the city and the shell exploded above the wall raining fragments. Tramy carried the next shell to the loading hatch. One of the tanks on the far side sent a shot. One of the seven motor launchers sent off rounds every minute.

"The rhythm is actually musical." Kilorn remarked, tucking the crust into his mouth.

"Musical or maddening?

Tick, tick, tick. Thunk. Thunk. Scrape. Clash. She covered her ears again as the launcher just past Tramy's prepared to fire.

Boom!

Less dust. More smoke. A long trail to the wall, an explosion.

Kilorn dropped his hands, ears less vulnerable for at least another five minutes. He rubs his hands on his knees. Mare can see his nervousness in the tap of his thumbs inside of his knees. She leaned her head against his shoulder and took a steadying breath. He aped her motions and the next boom went off.

"Farley wants a briefing at six. Command is sending you in tonight," he said. His thumbs stilled.

That small message had been the most of his nerves. Mare and most of the New Bloods had been tattered by non-stop fighting and panicked calamities. It had been a hard march north and Mare let it all blend with her broken heart into often scathing and critical statements. But she was turning over a new leaf, as of that morning, when she learned that Cal had Archeon surrounded. The good news had almost everyone feeling more optimistic.

"I guess two days of artillery was a pretty good break," she offered as evidence that she wouldn't snap on him.

"Don't get hot headed," Kilorn started. He would have said these lines whether or not she'd taken his head off. But it was more pleasant when she wasn't red faced and yelling.

"I won't."

"Don't lose focus." His hand moved to her knee, gripping tight.

"I won't," she let the annoyance coat her words. Optimistic wasn't the same as being in good-spirits. "Not my first time, you know."

"I know," he pulled his hand away.

She tore the second half of her sandwich in half and set it on her knee. Her turn. "Don't get antsy. Double check the orders before you send off a blast."