Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Flight or Fight, Chapter 3

Dalibor had a brief moment of panic when the girl started to cry, but what was more worrisome was the way she clamped down on herself almost immediately. "You are right - we will make them pay. Until then, I do not have the luxury of grief." Watching her gather herself, he wondered when her control was forged, and if it was tempered.

"Hyu need rest, Dafi. Dis plaze iz secure, und hennyvun coming in vould make enough racket to vake a rock. Since Hy em a light schleeper, Hy vill take de vatch tonight." He buried the instincts of what to do with a half-dressed handful, and helped her put the documents away. With some regret, he tucked her into the parachute as if she was a small child. "Tomorrow iz anodder chance to bring dem down."

Cat-footed, he moved towards the mouth of the cave. With the double curve of the entrance and the heavy brush nearby, he was not worried about the fire being seen, but he still wanted to check the area. He sat in the niche of the opening, and scanned the ravine, letting his instinctive mind take the evaluation. His conscious mind was not on the terrain, but the girl. He had seen that sort of control in some of the human officers assigned to his squad, and it worried him. They usually either broke under the pressure, or burned out - and in either case, it could mean the difference in winning or losing a battle. Usually, the Jägerkin won, but it often meant the officer did not survive.

Not a pleasant thought - he knew she needed to survive long enough to make a report to the Baron, and possibly long enough to testify in court. Having her burn out in a berserker raid would be as bad as getting herself killed. "De tings Hy do for de Empire," he murmured quietly in the darkness.

~=*=~

Dafi woke in near darkness, with full awareness. The fire of the night before was coals, almost out entirely. Her hand closed around the grip of her hunting knife as she heard a footfall against the rock. She was forestalled on drawing by the dry chuckle of the Sergeant, "Hyu iz avake, goot." He carefully set the oilcoth bucket where it would not overturn, and used his hunting knife to pull her small trail-cookery pot and kettle from the fire. "De journey-porridge should be ready, und de tea. Bit ov a luxury dis morning, because ve did haff de fire, und hyu need de extra to replace you blood lozz. De bramble berriez haff not been entirely picked ofer, but neidder vere they completely gone."

She nodded as she spooned up the porridge on her knife blade, "Good - so no predators to hunt out the berry-eaters completely, but also likely no villages in a half-day's hike." She made a slight face at the strength of the "tea", which was made from the tablets in the ration packs. Still, when she saw the sergeant pull his kettle from the dying ashes, she drank it all, knowing she would need the additives the tablets contained. She hoped the water in the bucket was potable, to wash down the last of the horrendously strong stuff. "Sergent Dalibor, where have we landed, and do we dare take the roads when we find them?"

"Ve are 'bout t'irty klicks from de main trade road, five hundred from outpost vere you boarded de courier, und about half dot avay from vhere ve can safely meet op vit de Baron'z Kestle." He refilled his kettle from the bucket and drank before continuing. "Ve are cloze enough to de ambusch zone dot ve should schtay out of zight az moch az possible. Me, running alone, could mek it in a few dayz, bot even if hyu vere not injured, Hy haff yet to zee anyvun not of de 'kin to keep op vit vun of uz. Horzebeck, ja, bot getting a horze out here vould mean trading, or schtealing."

Dafi followed his example with the dose of water from the bucket. It was clear and cold, not overtly tainted. "Trading would leave a trace for them to follow, and stealing would make life difficult for the one who lost the horse. Not so many out here that any are 'extras' by a long shot." She noted he relaxed when she said that, and continued, "Can we pack the parachute properly, even after using it for bedclothes? I would hope we do not have to abandon it."

The sergeant shrugged, "Hy vould not let somevun else jump vit it until Hy could repack it proper, but ve can repack it for travel, it haz been uzeful. No need in giffing de traitorz confirmation dot ve vere de vunz to kemp here lazt night." He pulled his first-aid kit out of his pack and lit a small candle-lantern, "First, Hy have to check hyur bandagez for travel." In the light of the lantern, she saw that she had not dislodged the bandages. When she tried to remove them to change the dressing, he lightly swatted her hand away and gave her the lantern to hold. "Hy gotz it, de beck of de leg is hardt to treat by hyuself."

She distracted herself from the feel of warm, gentle hands on her skin by inspecting the wound. "Not an angry red, and well-clotted - you do good work, Sergeant."

He tossed the old bandages on the dying coals, causing them to flare before consuming the gauzes. "Goot ting hyu is ha mountain gorl, hyu heal fast." He spread the pungent unguent on her wound, causing her shiver at the sensation. He looked up, "Dot hurt?" When she shook her head, he bandaged her leg, and then gently eased her sock over the bandage. "Dot schould be all right vit de bootz. Hyu get de rezt of de vay dressed, ve should schtart moofing soon."

~=*=~

Dalibor busied himself with repacking their gear while Dafi dressed. He thought to himself as he cleared the area of evidence of their presence, this is a really bad idea, without focusing on why. His conscience kept quoting the rulebook to him, and in the past that had kept him from too much trouble, but there was a subconscious animal in his brain, reminding him of the feel of her skin under his hands, though he currently held a rough canvas rucksack.

When Dafi moved from the parachute to put on her boots, he packed it as best he could without the benefit of space to straighten the lines. It would have to be a pretty damned desperate jump for him to use the 'chute in this state, but at least it would not be damaged further. He surreptitiously watched her packing up and removing traces of their presence, telling himself he was just evaluating her movements for signs of strain, but the animal knew better.

Still, he pummeled the animal with the trip calculations. He knew he would have to slow his usual pace down to hers, and they had to stay out of sight while travelling. In this terrain, if she were one of the human troopers he had been been with in the mixed patrols, he estimated they could make 25 kilometers a day. However, with her injuries, they might be lucky to make half that. Yes, she could walk without limping right now, but he had seen muscle fibre at the base of the graze track. He was going to have to stroll when his training told him to run.

~=*=~

Dafi dressed carefully, knowing there would be a long hard trek ahead of them. She would be slowing him down, there was no help for it, but she could at least make sure she was the least hindrance possible. There was one way, something she would not have dared alone, but as part of a tracking patrol, it was possible. When she had finished dressing, she reached for her pack at the same time the sergeant did. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed as he began pulling out her things.

"Ve need to make schure hyu do not schtrain youzelf," he said, setting aside the basic survival gear, first aid kit and her hygiene case. "Hy vill carry de heavy gear, bot in caze ve are zeparated, hyu haff de basicz on hyu."

Dafi thought a moment, and pulled the document tube out of her blouse, "We need to hide at least part of these in an unexpected place or three, let me have a few pairs of socks."

He nodded shortly, "Hy vill giff hyu some of de documentz Hy haff - if eidder of uz iz caught, dhey vill get some of de obviouz placez bot not all of dem." He redistributed his pack and parachute bag to accommodate her gear.

While his back was turned, Dafi rolled three of the key letters in with the flannels in her hygiene case. She hoped the trek would not take longer than her cycle. She repacked her gear with one of his memos in her spare socks, and tucked a few more in odd nooks and crannies in her reduced pack. She kept a few documents in the tube, and noted that the sergeant was doing much the same. When he had tucked the document folio in the waistband at the back of his trousers and tucked his uniform shirt, it was rather obvious, but with his pack over all, she could not tell it was there. She exhaled deeply and tucked the document tube into her riding corset. A sweeping glance over the cave indicated someone had stayed here last night, but unless they had tracking dogs, one could not tell who.

~=*=~

"Dafi... time to schtop." Dalibor had to physically stop her shambling walk. This is not good at all, he thought. She's using the long patrol trance to keep going when she should have asked to rest. He frowned with an irritated scowl as she came out of her trance. "Hyu schould not do dot before hyu heal op!"

She wobbled a bit, and asked, "H-how... how far?"

"Tventy klickz, about. Ve schtop now, Hy can schmell blood."

"That is pitiful, and there is still another hour of daylight. We got a late start because of me. Let's go," then she stumbled.

"Ho, dot'z enough for today," he said as he steadied her. Dalibor scanned the area, and muttered, "Notting zo comfy az lazt night nearby. Hope hyu like treez."

Dafi scanned the trees in the area, and paled. "I am not sure I could climb that high."

"Not yet, bot before nightfall." He pointed to a rocky area. "Ve can make a schmall fire for de tea, und get hyu bandaged op before ve zettle in. Hyu can handle de fire vhile Hy hunt, ja?" He jogged over to the outcropping, dropped the pack, then loped off into the woods.

Running helped a little, and dropping into hunt mode did as well, but there was still the annoying animal instinct that nagged him about what he should have done last night. Then something scuttling in the underbrush caught his attention and his instincts gave over into the hunt.

~=*=~

It was a silly fear, Dafi told herself. Not that it helped much, as she busied herself with filling the canvas bucket at the stream down hill and gathering firewood. As long as she had the solid rock beneath her, she could handle heights. Airships and trees could fall, but rocks she trusted. Not in the least bit logical, as many rockfalls as she and her patrol had dealt with, but fear was rarely logical.

The parachute drop had opened a whole new box of memories. Some had coloured her dreams the night before - at least she thought they were dreams. A strong hand holding her wrist, while her feet dangled over clouds. She been a child in the dream, and had not been in uniform, so she must have been younger than eight years old. Rubbing her wrist absently at the memory, she scanned the woods again.

She was loathe to take off her boots and start re-bandaging her leg until Sergeant Dalibor came back. She could handle herself alone in the woods, but injured prey was fair game. She did not want to give any further indication of weakness without backup. She sat by the tiny fire, with their kettles heating water, and sharpened her knife. The illusion of calm, while watching the gloom creep down the valley wall, she felt better with a weapon in hand.