Raven's Will

40. You have quite the appetite

Inside a large canvas tent set up in the middle of nowhere, a Scout flyer sat at a table. He browsed through files on a datapad, one gloved finger flicking from one to the next with a practiced ease while his eyes moved back and forth across the screen. If one were to look over his shoulder, all they would see would be a strange assortment of symbols and numbers arranged in paragraph form, resembling no actual words and holding no decipherable meaning.

"Raith." The voice came from the other side of the tent, where a man in Medic yellows sat elegantly on a foldout stool. An ugly bruise marred his sharp features, discoloring his nose and part of his cheek with fading greens and yellows and making his pale eyes seem all the brighter.

The Scout with the datapad glanced up at the sound of his name. "What is it, Syk?"

In response, the tall Medic deliberately glanced at the entrance of the tent, where two heavy flaps of material hung. Their weight was enough to keep the entrance "closed" and the interior of the temporary building hidden from any prying eyes. "One of yours."

Raith followed the direction of his companion's gaze. The faintest of frowns came and went, then he set the tablet down on the table. The moment his fingers left it, the screen went black.

He leaned back in the chair just as someone shoved aside one of the door flaps. A very dusty and travel-worn Scout entered, his steps purposeful despite the sweat-dampened hair plastered to his head and the dark bags under his eyes. Without a single glance around the tent, he made a direct beeline for Raith.

"Yankee." Raith greeted calmly, as if he'd been expecting the flyer. He held out a hand.

Without a single word, the Scout closed the last few feet and placed a small metal tube into Raith's waiting hand. Then he stood, clasping his hands behind his back.

Raith twisted the small cap off one side of the tube before he turned it over, allowing a small piece of rolled-up paper to slip free.

He set the tube aside and carefully unfurled the paper. It was thin and fragile, so he had to take care not to rip it. Several symbols, letters, and numbers were scribbled all over its surface in no order. It was like a child randomly drew all over the page. Yet Raith regarded it seriously, taking his time to take in every last mark.

A hound remains close to his master. Ever loyal, but loyalty is such a fickle thing. A master that becomes neglectful will come to regret it. The hound's bowl remains empty.

Raith pondered, then read the message over again, making sure he'd done the decryption correctly. Even though he'd designed the codes himself, it never hurt to double check as the slightest mistake could have deadly consequences.

The travel-worn Scout waited in silence, while Syk looked on in interest. He made no move to interfere, choosing instead to simply observe.

Finally, Raith reached into one of the slim pouches at his hip, and withdrew a lighter. He activated the tiny flame and proceeded to hold one end of the paper to the fire. The tent maintained its silence as the message was reduced to ashes.

Ignoring his audience, Raith found a new sheet of paper. Starting at the bottom left corner and then randomly jumping all over the place, he filled in empty spaces until none was left.

Once the new sheet was filled with similar symbols, numbers and letters,, he rolled up the paper, slipped it back inside the tube, and handed it back to the Scout. "Open that at dawn tomorrow," he said.

The Scout tucked the tube away, then gave a short nod of acceptance. He immediately turned and left the tent. The flaps swinging shut behind him were the only sound left in his wake. There were no sounds of his boosters launching him into the air, but both men inside the tent knew he'd be gone if they took a peek outside.