All he could feel was fire.
Smoke filled his lungs – it was the only thing he could smell besides the occasional bit of burning rubber. The Galbadian soldier lifted his head slowly, becoming ever more aware of the reality of his situation. Through a massive hole in his visor, he could see himself waist-deep in thick grass, surrounded by an inferno their army had just turned into an inferno.
The forests of Timber were burning.
"What happened?" He asked bewilderment giving way to panic as he realized the rest of his unit was nowhere to be found. "Guys?!"
The soldier sat upright and glanced around. Amid the smoldering foliage, he could make out his broken flamethrower and a dismantled Galbadian tank. He felt an inexplicable sudden rush of panic at the sight of the armored vehicle with which he shared a small patch of scorched earth.
"What is happening to me?"
That thought brought about a strange new revelation. His own internal narrative felt alien to him. He felt sweat trickle down from his brow to his nose. The choking sensation of the smoke was overpowering, and his helmet was fractured anyway. With a bit of an effort, he managed to remove the headgear and toss it aside. This did little to combat the heat, but at least he could wipe his face off now.
Brushing his long black hair out of his face, he surveyed the scene before him, noticing little in the way of landmarks outside of the vehicle.
"Must have been rocked harder than I thought," the soldier muttered.
At least when he spoke he sounded like himself. That didn't make him feel much better.
"Okay, relax and recap. Laguna Loire, First Lieutenant. Third Infantry Division. Squadmates with..."
A renewed wave of dread coursed through his blood, now ice-cold despite the blaze.
"Guys!" He shouted, spinning in a circle, desperate to find a path of some kind. "Kiros! Ward! Where the hell are you guys?"
"Hey, Laguna!" Came a soft and familiar voice.
Laguna turned towards the voice and saw his comrades emerging from a dense bit of wood as yet untouched by the flame. The owner of the voice was Kiros, a tall and lanky man with mocha skin and ebony hair, tied back in neat dreadlocks. The lumbering giant behind him was Ward, a blue bandana covering his bald head his five o'clock shadow slightly darker with the added stain of soot and smoke.
"Thought we'd lost you, Laguna," Ward said. His voice was gruff and deep, befitting the man from whence it came.
Who are they?
The lieutenant shook his head. These were his oldest friends. He knew that. So who was asking the question that would not stop bombarding his mind? It was more than just his thoughts. It was as though there was a presence within him.
"Uh, hello? Is Lieutenant Loire available to talk now?" Kiros asked, waving his hands in front of Laguna's face.
Laguna shook his head. "Oh, sorry Kiros. I just," he shivered involuntarily and continued to look around for any clue of why he felt the way he did, "I feel... weird."
"You're not alone there," Kiros nodded, before shrugging playfully. "Maybe it's the faeries that supposedly protect these woods come to curse us."
"It's just shock," Ward countered. "That mortar strike was damned close. Lucky we made it out alive."
"Is that what happened?" Laguna asked.
His gaze turned to the south where the tree line started to give way. Several pines were overturned, their needles scorched black. If they had been any closer, they would have been powder.
"Well, whatever it is we don't have time to sit around and feel better," Kiros replied. He pointed to the tank. "Our ride's busted too."
"So what now?" Ward asked. "Rest of the company is down. Do we press on?"
Laguna shook his head in an attempt to snap out of it and met Ward's gaze. "I'm not really the blaze of glory type. Nor do I think our little underdog show will accomplish a lot. No, we're heading back to command."
Laguna lifted his sub-machine gun. It was standard-issue for the Galbadian military, but Laguna had been using this one for ages. Some special modifications and a sawed-off barrel gave it a bit more kick than usual, but he had grown very comfortable with it.
"One gun between the three of us, eh?" Kiros shrugged, gesturing vaguely to his lack of a rifle.
"The situation does seem pretty hopeless," Ward nodded, walking over to the tank.
With a horrible scraping sound followed by an ear-splitting crack, the hulking corporal ripped the anchor component out of the tank's Holmgang. The grappling gun was used for everything from tearing down trees to disabling enemy armor. To Ward, it made a serviceable spear.
"That's, uh, inventive," Laguna nodded.
"Yep," Ward nodded. "Used to bench these for fun back in basic training."
Kiros chuckled. "Well, I guess if you're going low-tech..."
The slender sergeant slid two thin daggers out of holsters bound to his legs. The hilt of each was perpendicular to the blade. From a distance, it looked like Kiros simply had swords for hands. The Katal was not a popular weapon choice, mostly because of how the exposed the wielder to as much danger as the intended target. But on the rare occasion, Laguna had to witness Kiros dance with them, it had been a decidedly one-sided jig.
"Alright, keep your eyes open. The Timber ground forces could still be in the area," Kiros said.
"Relax, my friend. I feel like our luck is about to turn!" Laguna said confidently as he took point.
"You know what they say about 'once you've hit rock bottom', right?" Ward quipped.
Retracing their steps to the staging area was surprisingly difficult. The tank tread served as a passable trail for a while, until they reached a riverside patch that had been consumed by the purging fire. The smoke hung thick in the treetops and even when they found a clearing, the sky was overcast. It even looked like it might rain.
That would certainly help matters.
"Nope, still not me," Laguna muttered to himself.
"What's that, boss?" Ward asked.
"Just the faeries, I guess."
From the tread-path, they found themselves on a recently mowed stretch of tall-grass, which offered as clear a destination as any other. Another vehicle was burning brightly to their right, but it was impossible to tell if it was from Galbadia or Timber.
One thing that could be said about their journey was it was uneventful. No enemies, no allies, and all the animals and monsters had already fled for their lives. They did come across one slightly diseased looking Funguar - a sort of sentient fungi - but a quick jab from Kiros's katal put it out of its misery.
After about an hour of hiking the air finally began to clear and the pyre seemed far away. They had followed the river as close as possible, knowing they would eventually have to cross it. Originally they had simply forded the waters in their war machine, but that was further west where the river was narrow, steady, and shallow. The return wound up being a conveniently toppled tree, a Holmgang chain tethering it in place.
The river was deep here, with debris rushing along towards a waterfall mere feet from the crossing. Thick weeds choked the shore on either side, and the forest seemed to grow denser on the opposite bank. Even this far from the wildfires, a thin layer of smoke choked the air like a morning fog.
"Well, this is about as good as it will get," Kiros said.
"Says the most limber one in the squad," Ward grunted. In his bulky armor, he was nearly twice as wide as their would-be bridge.
"The Yaulney Checkpoint is two miles in that direction," Kiros said, pointing across the log. "We won't get a better path than this."
"Yeah, did I mention I can't swim?" Laguna added, moving beside Ward in solidarity.
They both had their eyes trained on the cliff's edge. While the forest path led down a gentle slope in that direction, the waterfall was a sheer drop thirty-five feet onto jagged rocks. The knot in Laguna's stomach was tightening.
"Well, I guess it means you should go first," Kiros reasoned, reaching his hand out towards Laguna. "That way if you fall in, I can rush to your rescue."
"That's a good idea," Ward nodded. "After all, you're the leader."
"Oh you traitor," Laguna sighed.
Just quit whining and do it.
Laguna did not consider himself fragile, but something about being mocked by his own subconscious – or the unknown entity which was borrowing it – lit a fire within him. He hoisted himself up atop the tree. Though plenty wide, it was also scorched, fragile, and slippery from the water. Ten yards was all he had to go.
"Just like my survival training," he muttered to himself, arms outstretched to try and provide balance.
With every step, he felt a bit of the bark crack beneath him. The wind was picking up and the river was raging. Torrents of the water kept crashing up over the top, but that was not his main concern. More pressing was the large black chunk which he was swiftly approaching. Laguna had seen trees scorched hollow while their outer bark remained firm. There was no way he could cross over it with a generous stride, and trying to jump it seemed more foolish still.
Crossing his fingers, he gingerly set his foot down on the burnt patch. It made a shrill popping sound like campfire for a brief moment, but eventually, the wood settled and held.
"Looks like we're good!" Laguna called, triumphantly hopping down the last few feet and arriving safely on the far bank.
Kiros went next. Where Laguna had taken about five minutes to cross, the acrobatic young man effortlessly dashed across the log in seconds. His feet seemed to barely touch the wood as he moved.
He arrived beside Laguna who sheepishly turned away.
"Uh, that's impressive," Laguna admitted.
"Thank you, sir," Kiros accepted with dignity. "Okay, Ward! You're up!"
Ward's strategy was entirely different. He poked at each suspicious bit of the log with his anchor before setting his foot down on it. His meticulous progression made his trek the slowest of them all, and Laguna couldn't blame him. The lumbering giant's had trouble holding solid footing on the most generously dry pieces of the deadwood, less so when he passed the rapids.
Then he reached the dark patch which had so worried Laguna. There was nothing of confidence in Ward as he prepared to test the suspicious wound. He gritted his teeth and seemed to try and reassure himself by giving one more glance to Laguna and Kiros, a mere two yards from him. With a mighty jab, the goliath sent his anchor into the patch.
It carved clean through.
"Shit," Ward cursed.
The log began to roll from the force of the swing, and the relentless waters now had a convenient new path.
"Hurry up, Ward!" Laguna shouted.
Ward yanked his makeshift spear out, and this was exactly the wrong thing to do. The gap in the log grew wider still, and Ward's own weight was adding ample encouragement. In a moment of desperation, Ward hurled the anchor towards the shore and then charged down the last few feet of the log, slipping at the end and landing knee first in the shallows just shy of his comrades.
With a thunderous crack, their bridge split in half. The larger end which was still tethered by the Holmgang bobbed lazily off the far shore. The smaller end, now freed of its burden, was flung downstream and disappeared over the fall within moments.
"Are you okay, buddy?" Laguna asked.
Ward got to his feet and patted himself off. His uniform pants managed to avoid tearing, but he was soaked from the waist down and covered in mud.
"I've had worse," Ward replied dismissively.
"Don't tell General Yaulney that. He'll put you on latrine detail," Laguna teased.
"We're not far from camp now, Ward," Kiros added. "Just a couple more miles."
"So where's the army?" Ward asked.
It had only been a couple of miles. The path on the other side of the river retained its original trail, and they picked it up quickly. Compared to the first half of their retreat, the tail end was a relaxing walk through familiar scenery.
The Yaulney Checkpoint, however, was not as they had left it. The clearing had been barricaded behind a hastily-erected wooden palisade, and several tents and transport vehicles served as a base for the past two months of the engagement. A few spokes of the perimeter remained, along with a single unaccounted for armored personnel carrier.
"Guess the mortar strike from Timber convinced them this area wasn't safe anymore," Kiros suggested. "Clearly they knew where our staging area was. They've been advancing on us for a couple of weeks."
"Yeah, well. Unfortunately, they didn't leave a forwarding address," Laguna sighed. "The entire battalion cleared out. They could be dozens of miles away."
Ward opened the carrier's rear hatch. It was completely empty.
"Nobody home. And they stripped the gear too," Ward detailed.
"We just need a set of wheels," Laguna said.
"Our orders?" Ward asked.
"We can't really be expected to find the others. They could be anywhere," Kiros observed.
"We're not looking for the others," Laguna said. "Let's just head back to Fort Monterosa. We can get reassigned there."
"Fort Monterosa?" Kiros swooped around to face Laguna and studied his expression skeptically. "You wanna go all the way back to Deling City?"
"Seems the best course of action. I am the squad leader after all," Laguna explained, though he wasn't quite able to meet Kiros' eye.
"You wanna drive 200 miles all the way back home?" Ward asked. "It's that piano girl, isn't it?"
Laguna strode away from the two, making for the driver's seat. "We've been away for two months. Aren't you excited to go home?"
"Not as excited as you, clearly," Kiros shrugged, hopping in the back of the carrier.
"Hey, as long as he takes the blame when command hears about this," Ward said, closing the hatch behind them.