Clawspur was good at waiting. He always had been. He'd done a lot of waiting in his years since the fahrar. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, waiting for his marching orders from the Centurions, waiting for his allies who he wasn't certain were going to make it out of a trap, waiting for his enemies to land in an ambush, waiting for other legions to pull their weight in a joint mission... He was certainly well familiar with waiting. The thing that most of his commanding officers had never seemed to understand, however, was that just because he was good at it didn't mean he always liked it.

This time was another of the 'waiting for allies' moments, and Clawspur was outright hating it. But while he was good at waiting, she was good at talking. And that was why she, even though she was a she, got to be the one to infiltrate the Flame Legion camp. Clawspur agreed with Tribune Desertgrave's assignment, but he still didn't like it.

This was the second time in as many weeks that he'd been left waiting alone for her, though the first had been entirely unplanned. That whole disaster of a battle hadn't been planned, and that was the problem.

Legionnaire Howl had run forward, as he usually did. He was called The Brazen for a reason. He had ordered the rest of them to hang back, guard the gate and keep the path to the front clear. They did that, and they did it well enough that a few others could get through to the crypts where the main fighting was. When things started to go south was when some other legionnaire showed up and started barking orders at them. With Howl out of earshot, they'd obeyed the command of the nearest legionnaire, even if she wasn't really theirs.

She sent Kharasa forward to the crypts too, as backup for Howl and Tribune Brimstone. With her went her turrets, and thus a good chunk of their firepower, but Eurayle and Reeva did their best to pick up the slack. Then those two were ordered to split off and cover another gate. Maverick was sent to guard a mortar cluster. Soon only Dinky and Clawspur himself were left in their original position. It didn't take long for their defensive line of two to collapse. They tried to fall back to the mortars, where Maverick was, but the ghosts were relentless. Dinky fought hard and fell hard, and Clawspur had never been more proud of the runt. Then it was just he and the ghosts and a faint hope of getting back to his comrades before he too was brought down.

He made it to the mortars, but they had already been overrun. Maverick fought like a berserker beside the last of the weapons still standing, but he was already mortally injured. The last one standing in a pile of dead bodies and broken mortars, Clawspur did the only thing he could. He got himself to high ground. Through the trees he could make out fires near the gate that he could only assume were Eurayle's. Between them lay a horde of angry ghosts.

He started at the back and killed as he moved forward, trying to join up with what was left of his warband. He'd made it through half a dozen of the ghosts when the power ripples of Duke Baradin being dispersed exploded out from the crypts. With it, all the ghosts charging him and the gates also dissolved. Finally his path was clear.

When Clawspur arrived at the gate only a handful of Charr were still standing, none of them were his bandmates. Someone, he didn't know or care who, grabbed his arm and shoved him at a medic. Somehow he hadn't even realized he was injured. They asked him where he'd been assigned, who he reported to, and where his warband was. He didn't answer, because he didn't want to make it true.

When the medic finally released him, he went straight to the crypts. That was where the last of his warband had been. They only ones he hadn't seen die had gone there. When he arrived the first body he saw was Howl's. There were many others and he searched them silently. Kharasa wasn't there, neither among the living nor the dead. A scout found him then, and when he asked after her, told him that she'd been sent to help with cleanup efforts. She'd been sent away from the warband again by another legionnaire who wasn't their own. It was about then that it really hit him. Their legionnaire lay dead on the ground beside him, and their warband now numbered exactly two.

Others on cleanup duty came to bury the bodies. Clawspur helped inter Howl near the crypt, but he didn't speak. When he finally went back to Smokestead he found fresh graves already covered over the rest of his comrades. He stood a moment beside each, and then went back to the barracks in the citadel to wait. He still said nothing, and no one stopped him to give him other orders.

When at last Kharasa came into the barracks, Clawspur was right there at the entrance waiting for her. Her leather armor was roughed up and dirty, and her fur was more brown than its natural white. He almost couldn't see the subtle grey shadings that marked her face and arms. One of her long horns had a new notch carved into it's sinuous curve. Her usually bright blue eyes were tired, and all of her ears were drooping. Clawspur figured he didn't look much better, but damn was he glad to see her alive and in one piece. If the weary smile that stretched Kharasa's narrow muzzle was any indication, she felt much the same.

Then her ears perked up and she started looking around.

"We're all that's left." He said it bluntly, forestalling any questions from her. "After you got sent forward, some mouse of a legionnaire split us up. It all went south from there."

"Everyone?" It wasn't like her to ask him to repeat something, but this wasn't a usual situation. "But Howl was right-"

"I helped bury Howl." Clawspur looked away. He couldn't stand seeing the naked shock and despair on her face. He'd had all his time waiting to school his features. To her this was a brand new loss.

And then, as she always seemed to do, she surprised him again. She clapped a paw to his shoulder and steered him towards their warband's quarters. Her face was fierce and proud again, though they both knew it was just a mask for the others in the barracks who were undoubtedly watching.

Once inside she slumped into the nearest seat, dropping her battered rifle to lean against the wall as she did. Clawspur too sat, watching her carefully as the mask slipped from her face.

"Tell me everything."

And though he was the one of their warband known most for his silence, he told the whole story of that thrice damned battle. She watched him intently through it all, and never interrupted once. When he was done she replied in kind, and told him of fighting Duke Baradin's ghost beside tribune Brimstone and being 'volunteered' to help with cleanup afterwards. When she finished, she dropped a letter on the table between them.

"This makes more sense now."

Clawspur simply raised a brow at that, but took the letter when she gestured for him to read it. It didn't take him long, the note was short, but it's contents were potent.

Kharasa Embershard,

Report to me at your earliest convenience. We need to discuss the future of you and your warband.

-Tribune Torga Desertgrave

Clawspur read in a second time, and then laid the missive back on the table. "Dibs on it not being me."

"What?"

"Dibs on not being the new legionnaire."

She blinked at him, sighed heavily, and then finally showed her teeth in a weary grin. "I guess that answers that."

Clawspur just nodded. He knew, he could see it in her face. She didn't want the job any more than he did. She wanted Howl and his crazy tactics back too. But the difference between them was right there in that grin. She, unlike him, could actually do the job, and do it with a smile because that was what needed to happen.

She clapped a paw on his shoulder again, and though her grin had faded, he could see the resolve in her eyes.

"I'm going to get cleaned up, get some rest, and report to the Tribune in the morning." She gave a mock delicate sniff. "You should do the same, minus the part about the Tribune unless you want to forfeit your dibs."

Clawspur barked a laugh despite himself. This was the sparring partner he was used to.

"But first," Her paw squeezed his shoulder tightly, and this time her grin was real. "We're going to steal some Norn ale from the Iron Legion quarters and toast our fallen."

Clawspur shifted on the rock he was perched on and tried to shake off the memories of that night. Not that he recalled much after the theft of the ale. He wasn't waiting in the barracks this time. He was close enough to aid her if she needed it. But he would totally blow her cover if he went in, and that was best saved as a last resort.

So he waited. He sharpened both his knives, then the spare tucked in his greave. He watched the hill she had disappeared over until the shadows grew long and dusk began to deepen. Just as he was about to get out his whetstone again, a familiar silhouette appeared at the top of the hill. He stood and moved to meet her, but stopped short as another figure appeared on the hill next to her.

As they approached Clawspur could tell she had lost her disguise along the way. That didn't help his mood any, and he was quite prepared to tell her so. He stopped his tongue, however, upon seeing who was following her. The soldier was wearing the remains of Ash Legion armor, but he had clearly been through a tough battle. He was also barely older than a cub. He looked like he was fresh out of the fahrar. As they drew closer, Clawspur noticed more than a few places on the cub where burns had scorched through armor and fur leaving bare and blistered skin. He hadn't just been through battle then, he had been a Flame Legion prisoner. That explained some things.

"You're back in one piece, at least." He tried to sound gruff, but he let his relief show in his eyes.

"Quick and quiet." Kharasa said it with a hint of grim humor. Her armor was roughed up too.

"That's what you call quick and quiet?" The cub piped up from behind her.

Clawspur raised a brow at his legionnaire.

"Springing a prisoner tends to blow one's cover." She admitted wryly.

"Who's the cub?" He jerked his chin at the young soldier.

Kharasa waived the cub forward. "Yahuk Fellstrike. He lost his warband in a Flame Legion raid. He's young, but he held his own; showed those flame rats what burning really means."

Clawspur saw where this was going, and he didn't hesitate to nod. He trusted Kharasa's judgement, and his own said that the cub had been through a lot and survivied. He'd fit right into their camp.

"As of now," Kharasa turned her bright blue eyes back to Yahuk. "You are the third member of our warband."

"I'm honored, Legionnaire." The cub said it sincerely, and Clawspur knew he'd do alright.

Kharasa just nodded and gestured at her second. "This is Clawspur. He doesn't say much, but when he does it's because it's important."

Yahuk gave him a weary salute, but Clawspur ignored the formality. He'd cure the cub of that habit quick enough. In fact, he knew just the thing for properly inducting the young soldier into their warband.

"So Boss," Clawspur kept his voice serious, though he was struggling not to smile. "Are we going to toast our new member tonight?"

"I can report to the Tribune in the morning." Kharasa grinned for real again, not out of duty. "I think the bloodies just got in a new shipment from Hoelbrak. We should teach them how to share, Ash Legion style."