Dragon's Requiem

The Carts That Pass Us By

          My feet are sore and my back is aching, but at least Cassian is sleeping soundly in the little backpack that Levy helped me make. I was promised no special treatment, on this journey. When the nurses get to ride on the carts, I am able to join them. When they walk, I walk. Sometimes, Erza helps me lighten my load by carrying Cassian. I make a point to offer her part of my rations, when we take breaks. She always declines, but thanks me.

          At sunset, we make camp and Levy and I pitch our tent. I put Cassian on my bedroll and lay down next to him. While I've gotten much stronger over the last few months, I was hardly prepared for that long trek. I could have swam that distance, easily, but I doubt I would have been able to take Cassian with me. He's only a quarter mermaid, after all, not to mention half human and part fire dragon slayer. I'm still not even sure if he can access his magic or will be a wizard, like us. 

          When we're called to dinner, I'm handed a bowl of hot stew and sit down with Levy and some of the other nurses. Erza joins us, along with Levy's personal guards and assistants, Jet and Droy, the green-haired sharpshooter, Bisca, and her husband, Alzac. They share stories of what they've seen and about how much they hated leaving their daughter, behind.  We eat and make small talk as we choke down the overpowering stew and tough meat. I miss cooking with Natsu. If he were here, we could have made something that was so much more appetizing. Then again, if he were here, if he were going off to war, now, he would have been there for his son's birth. I'd be at home, tending the farm and keeping Cassian safe. 

          The days following are Hell on Earth. As we march our way to the battlefield, we see an endless stream on wounded being brought home and piles of armor that were taken from the dead, to be re-purposed for new recruits and other material. Some of the breastplates and helmets are charred and full of holes, like they had been ripped open by the arrows of some demon. They're similar to the holes that Bisca had made in her practice dummy, back at the first camp, except that these look almost like the metal had melted around the holes. 

          On other carts, there are civilians being taken to other towns that are farther from the fight, where they might be safer. There's a child holding, what I assume to be, her bother's hand, as they stare at he ground that passed under the cart. Their clothes are torn and filthy. Her dress is covered in deep brown splatters. Both of their eyes seem empty. The same goes for the other children on the cart and all those that follow. Their eyes are either empty or full of fear and sadness. They are the eyes of the innocent who have seen war and all of its destructive force. They are the eyes of children who have seen the face of death.

          At every camp we stop at, we see the same scenes. There are new soldiers who are righting home to their loved ones. There are wounded being tended to, which only becomes worse to look at, as we head closer to the field. The first camps had bandage changes and wound inspections. At this camp, a man is howling as he has his manged leg is amputated and another is having his entire left arm wrapped in salves and linens. At least, what is left of his arm. At this point, it looks like a burn up tree branch that was somehow attached to his body. There are white faced nurses, some of them are heaving up what little these camps have for rations, and men that look like they are souls returned from dead. This is the final camp before we reach the sea and sail for the Northern border of Carthage. 

          Cassian cry all through the the start of the night, scared and kept awake by the cries of the wounded patients and the men who are waking for nightmares. In order to get him to sleep, I sing to him. I used to do the same for Natsu, when he was having trouble sleeping. He loved to listen to me sing, just like his son does, now. He'd hum along and sing with me, sometimes. Other times, when he would be helping me to ease my pain and illness that came with my pregnancy, he would place his hand, warmed with his magic, against my stomach and sing to Cassian. He loved to sing him the lullabies he had leaned, as a child, which he taught to the other kids. It made him smile and it revealed the softer side of Natsu that he rarely showed, when he was with other people. It showed me that, even though he was scared and didn't quite know it himself, he was ready to be a father.

          As I sing to Cassian, Levy also seems more at ease and she's fast asleep, almost immediately. Before now, she was tossing and turning, muttering curses to herself. I was surprised, but maybe it was just as calming for her as it is for the boys. I continue humming to myself as I slowly fade into slumber and into the realm of dreams. Here, I'm walking into camp. It's not unlike all the others. However, instead of the dire faced and sad looking soldiers, everyone is happy and celebrating. The war was won and everyone is going home. Men hold casks of ale and mead and the nurses are bringing great trays of food around to groups of people. Civilians are traveling home and families are being reunited. But, among all the celebration, I see a boy, no older than seven, standing in the middle of a path. He's staring at me with piercing, onyx eyes. His hair is wild and as yellow as the sun, as yellow as my own.

          As soon as I take a step towards him, he runs away. I chase after him, on pure instinct. He dashes around the tents and no one seems to notice that he is there. No one seems to notice that I am there. Even though we are inches from them and are kicking up clouds of dust, no one even glances our way. And, as we make our way through the camp, these people can be found in fewer and fewer numbers. And there is more smoke in the air. I can hear screaming, but I have no idea where it is coming from. The sky is turning red. The clouds of dust are turning to clouds of ashes. The boy is disappearing in and out them and I finally lose track of him. I can't see anything, beside the red sky and clouds of ash.

          All of a a sudden, I can hear crying. It's Cassian, I can tell. I sprint in his direction and the crying grows louder and louder, until I see a wicker basket with a pure white linen hanging out of it. The boy is standing behind it, mouth open and bawling, but I lose sight of him, again, as a cloud of ash is blown between us. When it clears, he's gone and the basket is still there. When I step closer and look into it, I see Cassian, screaming for me. I try to run to him, but I can't seem to get any closer. I watch as a looming shadow grows, behind him, and listen to his cries. The shadows glowers at me with glowing red eyes, and I watch as wings unfurl from its back. It snarls at me and, before I can make another move towards my son, it envelopes him in darkness. 

          I bolt upright, drenched in sweat and turn, trying to find my son. As I should have known, he's safe, sleeping by my side, soundly. I look to Levy's bed and she has her back to me. I can hear her saying Gajeel's name. She must miss him terribly. I know exactly how she feels. At least she knows that he's at home, safe and sound. I almost wish she had stayed. She's been exhausted, these last few days, and she's only just returned home from the war. She should have stayed and helped Gajeel and Gray. She should be at home.

          I lay back down, calmed from the sight of normalcy that has remained in my tent. I fall back into a dreamless sleep. It's more of a very short nap, however, because I'm woken up, after what only feels like a few seconds. However, this time, the sun is on the horizon and light is pouring into our tent. It's time to move, again.