A/N This is a one-shot previously posted at Samurai Fanservice. It is not related to any of my other work. It's a little 'un. :)
Silence
They sat huddled in the darkness, back to back, dividing up the night with eyes too weary to be on guard. Three would watch, two would rest, none would sleep. The wind was cold tonight, bitter and angry, and it cut at their unprotected faces and necks without remorse. Their bodies hurt, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Their stomachs burned from hunger, but there was nothing that could be done about that either. So instead they sat, and the waited, and they hoped. Feverishly.
They couldn't talk. Silence was part of their protection in this dark desolate wasteland. A single sound would carry a mile, and they weren't alone out here this night. But it worked both ways, they would hear any that approached them as well.
Kento let out a soft sigh, barely audible but full of meaning. They all understood. They all felt the same way. They wanted their homes, they wanted their beds. They wanted the safety that they fought so hard to ensure for others, they wanted to let down their guards just once and know what it was like to be free of fear.
Despite himself Ryo shivered, then quickly controlled his body. It was too late, they had all felt it. He was mentally cursing at himself for displaying weakness in front of them, worrying that it would erode their confidence. He sat up straighter, lifting his tanned fan defiantly to the night sky, determined to ignore the bite of the cold that affected him more than any of the rest of them. Cool fingers touched his arm, briefly, and Ryo locked eyes with Cye. The auburn haired man gave him a tight smile, and he nodded his head firmly, his own head lifted high. Ryo's worries were unfounded. It wasn't their leader's strength that kept them going. It was his strength even after he had been brought to his knees that kept them strong, because no matter how bad they were off, Ryo would always always get back up.
Rowen shifted backwards, his lanky body tighter against Kento's broad back. He leaned his head back on his comrade's shoulder and he looked up at the few visible stars, exhaling silently, taking what comfort he could. Hardrock dropped his shoulder slightly to give Rowen a more comfortable head purchase, and he lightly ran his fingers along the ground. The dirt caught on his chipped fingernails, clinging to his hands as if drawn. To his left, Sage watched the movement, as if envious. He was as without his element as Ryo. On Sage's left, Rowen caught the expression on Sage's face. He nudged Sage with his elbow, getting him to turn. Rowen lifted his finger and pointed at the sliver of moon that hung in the distance. Sage gave Rowen a half hearted smile and Rowen shrugged. They both knew that wasn't enough.
A twig snapped in the darkness around them and they all froze. It was one thing to be the hunter. It was so much different to be the hunted. No one breathed, no one even moved. But their minds tumbled. Who was closest to who, who would react how, who would they be able to protect if they were attacked from where. Ryo shifted slightly, just enough to make sure that if it came from his direction, it would reach him first. They felt that and their pride burned in their hearts even as fear clutched their stomachs.
Silence.
Silence.
Too much silence.
Nowhere to hide, they only had each other.
Finally, bit by bit, the warriors relaxed as an attack failed to fall. Sage's eyes darted up to that small sliver of moon that gave such a tiny amount of light, suddenly appreciating it so much more. Kento's fingers stayed buried in the dirt, holding on for dear life. They all listened for Ryo, their leader, to tell them what to do. They focused on his breathing, on his body movement, on him with complete and utter trust. And he focused his entire self on keeping them safe.
They circled like sharks in the darkness, unseen and unknown, their sleekly dangerous bodies stretching for miles. The hunted had become the found. But they watched and waited. Waited for their pack leader to allow them to flow down upon their enemy, a flood of death. And the pack leader held patiently, crouched not twenty feet from where they sat huddled, waiting…waiting…
Waiting for that focus to break.