Chapter one: When it Rains it Pours
Nod's father had died at the edge of a boggan blade and his mother had in many ways died the same day. She had lingered for a while, tried to stay for her son, but in the end her grief was bigger than she was, and of all the things the queen could heal, a broken heart wasn't one of them.
Ronin had been a steady part of his life for as long as he could remember; his father's best friend who had always had a pat on the head and sometimes a story for him, and the one who still noticed him when his mother's grief had rendered him all but invisible.
To feel invisible to him now was terrifying, like the sudden drop when the branch snapped, and there was nothing left below but the ground. He felt like he was out of branch and yes, he would like a ride, although, maybe it was too late for that.
Ronin had never really been hard to live with. His mother had died when he was in his late teens and there hadn't been anywhere else for him to go. They had never talked about it, never planned; no one's permission was asked. It had simply been a given. For a general, Ronin's apartments were surprisingly small. He had pulled the books out of the study he never used, and it had become Nod's room. There hadn't been much adjusting, a few squabbles here and there, mostly about Nod leaving things laying around on the floor, usually clothes, occasionally armor as he got older. Ronin had still had stories for him over dinner and about million tips on how to get every kind of sap, gunk, slime, mold, mud, and rot off of armor.
The armor Ronin had worn on the summer solstice was still piled in a corner of the front room. Their armor was designed to resist rot, but nothing ever stopped it completely. It had gotten all the way through his chest plate and into his padded undershirt. Nod shuttered every time he spotted it. He had thought about trying to salvage parts from it, armor odds and ends were always useful, but it wasn't his armor. He was considering toeing it out onto their balcony and seeing if Ronin noticed.
Grief was a tricky thing. He was trying to be good for Ronin, to make it easier for him. He had tried to be good for his mother and it hadn't helped. If he resigned tomorrow and went back to bird racing, would Ronin come after him? Would he even notice? Nod wasn't sure he was brave enough to find out.
Not that he wanted to go back to bird racing. He had always wanted to be a Leafman, even when he was small, and Ronin was right, he was cut out for it. Things had just gotten tangled for a while. There was still a certain unease inside him, the idea that to be both connected and an individual was a tricky, possibly painful thing, and he might not really want it. In some ways, he didn't seem to have much of a choice. When leaves fell off the tree, they withered and died.
He hadn't realized how much attention Ronin gave him until he wasn't giving him any at all. He hadn't even commented when Nod had turned down the new queen's commission to captain. She meant well, but Nod had only been a private, and he not only lacked the experience to be a captain, he didn't really want that sort of responsibility. It was the queen's prerogative to commission whoever she wanted, just like it was his prerogative to not accept that commission.
He had expected Ronin to say something about it, although he wasn't sure what. Anything would have been a relief. Either, Ronin didn't think he was officer material yet, or at all, and should have been happy he turned it down, or he thought he was an idiot and should have taken it, because really, who in their right mind would ever promote Nod to an officer after they got to know him. He hadn't even mentioned it though, and Nod had to wonder if he just didn't care.
He couldn't do anything about the promotion to sergeant. He could refuse commissions, but he had no say in his enlisted rank. If Captain Terrance called him 'sarge' one more time though, he was going to shove him off his bird. Attempted homicide might just get Ronin's attention after all.
Nod stared up at the ceiling of their apartment. It was dark and late and Ronin wasn't home. He had 14 stitches in his arm and a cracked rib from a run in his group had had with a boggan swarm. Without Mandrake they were more a nuisance than a strategic military threat, but they still were causing trouble and had to be dealt with.
It was the first time Nod could remember that Ronin hadn't shown up at the healers' ward when he was hurt. Usually he got there before Nod did, intent on chastising him for being stupid, which to be fair, was usually how he ended up hurt. It hadn't been his fault this time. It was just battle collateral, and more annoying than anything, especially because he would be off duty until the stitches came out.
He felt childish and petty and selfish. He knew what it was like to lose people you loved. He knew what it was like to not want to care about anyone or anything, because the risk of losing them seemed to outweigh any benefit that might be gained by caring. He knew what it was like to have your world go grayscale and flat in an instant, and he knew Ronin was trying his best to cope. His mother had tried her best too, and it hadn't been enough, and sometimes, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't stop the nagging, painful stab of resentment that welled up in him for that. He hadn't been enough, and that never stopped hurting.
If he wasn't enough for Ronin…
Nod shoved himself off the couch with an angry grunt. He was not going to sit alone in the dark and sulk. He was off duty. He could be anywhere.
Grabbing his jacket and buckling his short sword over his shoulder, Nod headed to the rookery. He had a stomper who would be more than happy to pay attention to him.
Ronin rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. It had been a long day. Granted, everyday had felt like a long day since...
Queen Marigold was settling into her new role with enthusiasm. Sometimes a little too much enthusiasm. She wanted to do everything right away, help everyone as soon as she heard they needed it, and he couldn't seem to make her understand that her safety was important, not just to her, but to the whole forest. Nod had reminded him more than once that for all that she was queen, she was also a child, and he should expect her to act like one occasionally.
Nod. Ronin realized with a start that he hadn't reviewed the patrol reports for the day. When Nod had started going out on patrol, he had made it a point to always check them as soon as they came in, partly to make sure Nod hadn't caused any trouble for his CO, but mostly to make sure he had come back safely.
He cared about all of his Leafmen. He wanted them all home safely, and he would do whatever it took to make sure that happened, but Nod was his responsibility in a particular way. It wasn't just that Soren had asked him to take care of him. Nod had always been his in some sense. He had known him since he was born, had been the first person besides his parents to hold him, and would have given anything to have let him grow up with his father there to look out for him. There were times Nod reminded him so much of Soren that it hurt.
His office was more a store room for paperwork than a space he actually used. His desk was stacked high with reports, proposals, requests, and personnel files. Finn knew to put the patrol reports on top. There were a lot of things Finn knew to do without being asked, and Ronin was grateful for that.
He nudged the glow worm awake and collapsed into his chair with an exhausted groan. Maybe he would take a day off. Finn had been hinting that he needed one. Glory, the head healer, had been threatening to put him on forced leave. Nod would think that was funny anyway.
Nod's group was on top. Finn must have shuffled it there. It was more a playful jab than an attempt to be helpful. The captain had come from a large family, and he was endlessly amused by the sheer amount of frustration Nod managed to cause the general. Apparently, in large families you got used to people being idiots.
And Nod was an idiot sometimes. Other times he was unexpectedly, infuriatingly brilliant. In some ways that was even more frustrating. How someone could have so much potential and be so stupid was beyond him. Tara had caught the edges of their fights more than once and laughed at him, reminding him that at Nod's age they had done just as many stupid things. At Nod's age, Tara hadn't been queen yet, just a fellow Leafman, and they…
Ronin pushed the memories away viciously and snapped up the reports. While boggan activity was scattered, there had been a few serious skirmishes here and there. Eventually, they would regroup under a new leader, but he doubted it would be anyone as powerful as Mandrake. Probably not as smart either. Boggans weren't exactly known for their intelligence.
Ronin looked down at the report and suddenly couldn't breathe. His heart clenched, and for an instant, he was too panicked to do anything. Wounded were listed at the top of every report, and Nod's name was on the list.
