((Right, so, this is my second submission but my first real full length story. I've always loved Fire Emblem and have wanted to do something like this for years, but only recently got around to it on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It's not my best work; I haven't reveiwed it much at all, so it won't be perfect. Forgive me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

Read, review, rest, relax, whatever. Please!

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor have I created, Fire Emblem or any of its respective content.

Enjoy!))

Chapter 1: Moist

Warm rain battered Fiora's face as she struggled to lift her head out of the relative shelter she found behind the raised neck of her pegasus. Her hair, which had turned a dark blue from continued exposure to the wet, was matted down all over her face and continued, soggy, under her collar, bringing with it a permeating, clammy feeling to the rest of her body. Ever since the 5th wing of Illian Pegasus Knights came within half a day's flight to the Dread Isle, the weather had either been that of a constant monsoon or a thick, tangible fog. Fiora's knights had been prepared for both: they wore heavy, full-length coats over their uniforms and insulated leggings under their traditional short skirts in order to keep the sogginess at bay; for the fog, each of the 5th's twenty-three knights carried a torch and a standard-issue signal book in her knapsack.

Fiora cursed her stupidity: they were heading south, and her knights had been equipped with Illian winter overcoats that were meant to keep the biting winter cold from doing its terrible, frostbitten work. The coats' fur lining, when wet, began to smell and, when the rain stopped, the coats were far too warm for the pseudo tropical weather of the Southern sea. Whenever she caught a glimpse of her knights, Fiora could see their faces were red from the effects of the wet heat.

The torches, too, were problematic: they worked well for the first fog the knights had ran into: the use of universal signals kept the women calm and together. After the first rain doused the flames and waterlogged the torches, however, no one could get theirs to catch. Eventually, the knights had to resort to using their own voices to communicate and, where that failed, they had to fly extremely close together in a formation considered 'dangerous' both to military strategists and animal caretakers: the pegasi occasionally kicked and snapped at each other, and an enemy with any sense could very easily wreak havoc among the tightly packed cohort.

Fiora was furious and even a bit fearful, but she could do nothing to rectify the situation and, more importantly, nor could she land and regroup. All she could do was clutch her jacket close to her chest as the rain assaulted her every sense and continue to shout commands through the intermittent foggy soup. Worst of all, though, she feared that she may soon overshoot her objective: she had assumed that she would able to see the Dread Isle when the 5th flew over its forests, but as time passed, she became more and more uncertain. What if it is too foggy to land? What if they were flying too close to the surface and the Isle had a high cliff face? What if, Elimine forbid, they had already passed the Isle? Her pegasi were already near exhaustion and couldn't fly forever, nor could they swim.

Lord Pent had not given her many specifics: she and her wing were to travel to the Dread Isle, gather whatever intelligence they could on something (Pent wouldn't say), and return with a map or at least some detailed information on the Isle's topography. Fiora had accepted before she researched the assignment partially out of a 'How hard could it be?' mindset and partially out of a form of greed: the Marquess Reglay had paid up front and very handsomely, and the Island's proximity to Lycia's ever-curious, competing, and rich Lords was surely to play into her purse's hands.

She took another swig from her canteen and sighed as the still-warm tea from this morning's campfire soothe her throat, which was already tender from overuse. The rain was letting up and fog was visible on a pitiful excuse for a horizon: Fiora harrumphed and gave the order to close ranks. The knights, who had previously been flying in a spaced-out 'V' formation, spurred their beasts into a tight clump so as each knight would always be in at least one other's sights. Fiora wasn't going to lose a single comrade on this mission, especially not to what was essentially a low hung cloud.

Sure enough, minutes after the knights assumed their formation, the rain stopped and the fog almost immediately filled its place. Fiora kept her tight grip on the reins absolutely steady in order to prevent her pegasus from nudging or bumping its companions. As the 5th continued onward, Fiora was tempted to let her mind drift off to thoughts of home: of Illia, her sisters, snow, her bed, warm fireside meals…

She shook herself back into the present. Home was months away: the most she could ask for now was what most of the world feared: the Dread Isle.

"Commander!"

Fiora's head snapped up, though she had little clue as to which direction the voice had come from. "Go ahead," she shouted into the sky.

More to come soon!