Page 48 of Wings of War

Lije heaved his own sigh, though he spoke under his breath. “I’m going to miss navy food.”

“Me too.” Fieran had gained a whole two pounds in the past two days. It wasn’t going to be easy going back to bland, tasteless, formless army food. Worse, they were headed out for a week in the woods where they would be living on hardtack and tinned food.

At least Pip wouldn’t endure the week in the woods. She and the other mechanics would be spending a week in the airship hangar here at Fort Charibert, continuing their training.

After being ordered to collect their rucksacks, Fieran joined the others in the airship’s mess. All too soon, the drill sergeants yelled them off the airship, and Fieran descended the ladder with his rucksack on his back. At the bottom, he assembled into line with Lije on one side, Merrik and Pretty Face in the row behind them.

Instead of being shown into nice, drafty barracks for the night, they immediately marched through the fort and into the surrounding woods.

They hiked along sandy trails, winding through a forest of scrubby pines, maples, and straggling oaks. At this time of spring, the first red buds sprouted at the ends of the branches, still a few weeks away from bursting into leaves. The night’s chill fell around them, so cold that Fieran could see his breath puffing before his face.

Finally, the lieutenant called a halt, and they were instructed to dig foxholes in the dirt at the base of the trees for shelters for the night.

While Lije stood guard, Fieran pulled out his collapsible shovel and set to work digging what would be a two-man foxhole for himself and Lije. The sandy soil wasn’t that hardpacked, but there were so many roots that it was hard digging.

A few feet away, Merrik dug the foxhole while Pretty Face stood guard, their foxhole positioned to coordinate lines of fire.

Fieran scraped away the two-to-three-inch-deep hole to lie in, trying to decide the best way to chop through the roots to dig the standing trench in front of his foxhole.

A faint green glow spread through the area around where he, Lije, Pretty Face, and Merrik had been assigned their foxholes. The roots that had been blocking Fieran’s way wiggled back into the ground on either side of his foxhole, leaving nothing but dirt in his way.

Fieran took a moment to nod at Merrik before he went back to work. The roots curved around the spot in a wall, making the foxhole almost cozy.

For years, Fieran’s family had camped out in the forested parkland of Treehaven several times throughout the summer. Sleeping out in the woods beneath the stars wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him, despite his privileged upbringing. But the whole dig his own foxhole and sleep with a gun tucked in next to him was new.

“Aaah!”

Fieran woke up to a scream. He bolted upright, reaching for his rifle.

A few yards away, Stickyfingers was hopping up and down on one foot, holding a boot in one hand. “Snake!”

“What kind?” Lije scrambled out of their foxhole, then dove after the snake. He came up with a long, wiggling black snake that was about three feet long. “Ooh, this one is good eating.”

“I’m not eating that thing!” Stickyfingers lurched away from Lije as quickly as he could while hopping on one foot. “It was in my boot!”

“Come on, Sticky! Don’t be a coward.” Pretty Face smoothed a hand over his hair, though he kept his face turned away from Lije and the snake.

Fieran shook out his boots before he pulled them on. “I’ve never had snake before. What does it taste like?”

“Chicken, more or less.” Lije hiked a few yards into the forest outside of their camp, pinned the snake to a rock, then cut off its head in a quick strike with his army knife. He tossed the snake’s head into the brush and hung the body up by the tail to let the blood drain.

Tiny gathered wood while Fieran lit the kindling, coaxing the small fire they were allowed to light into life.

Stickyfingers prepared the coffee pot, and Merrik fetched the water that they would boil to give their salted meat some life. There was nothing much they could do about the army ration hardtack. Pretty Face took his time groaning and rolling out of his bedroll, grumbling the whole way.

By the time the water was boiling, Lije had gutted and skinned the snake, and he dropped the fresh meat into the pot with their pieces of salt pork.

Once the meat was cooked, they divided up the fresh snake meat. Even Stickyfingers claimed a piece, despite his earlier protests. By the time they shared with a few of the others in the unit, they only got a bite or two of snake meat each.

Fieran chewed his bites, taking the time to savor them. As Lije had said, it tasted like slightly gamier chicken. Not bad, really. Better than more salted meat and hardtack.

Perhaps life out in the bush wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter

Sixteen

Fieran waited to one side of the long lines of massive guns that faced into the bomb range at Fort Charibert. All morning, the various guns had been booming as an army artillery unit aimed at various items set out in the bomb range. But about half an hour ago, the guns had fallen silent.

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