Hilfer struggled to come around. His head was heavy. As the rest of his senses reawakened, a raw, stinging sensation in both hands forced him to come to faster. He let out a hiss of pain, and looked at his hands. The palms and heels of both hands were badly scraped.

He was slow to sit up, and quickly realized that he was lying at the bottom of a wadi, several meters away from the crashed Kübelwagen. A chill of horror shot down his spine when he saw blood drying on the passenger side door. "Captain?" he said. "Captain Dietrich?"

A British soldier was kneeling next to Dietrich's still form. The cracked, dry bed of the wadi had turned into a crimson lake. Hilfer's face paled at the sight of the injury in Dietrich's side. The British soldier was working quickly to stem the bleeding, wrapping the remnants of Dietrich's shirt and tunic around the captain's abdomen as tight as possible.

"This isn't good," the Englishman muttered.

"What have you done with him?" Hilfer asked in English.

"Patching him up is what I've done with him," the British soldier replied. "This won't last long, though."

"What happened?"

"It looks like he fell on the door. Cut his side clean open, now he's got a wound the size of a ruddy cricket bat."

Hilfer wasn't sure he liked the idea of being in charge, with Dietrich out of commission. The shock of the whole situation was still echoing around his mind, but getting Dietrich stabilized and having some assurance that his captain would live was his priority. He started unbuttoning his tunic. "Here. Use this."

"Thanks." The British soldier, who Hilfer could see was a private, carefully wrapped the tunic around Dietrich's wound, and tied it as tightly as possible. "How about you? You injured?"

"No. Scraped up, but… Captain Dietrich is more important."

"Stay with him, then. I'm going to check on Sergeant Moffitt." The private stood and headed over to the crashed jeep.

Hilfer knelt next to Dietrich. He had treated basic, commonplace injuries before, but not something like this. One part of him wanted Dietrich to wake up. Another part of him didn't, as he had no idea how much pain Dietrich was going to be in. An injury like that had to be excruciating.

The British private returned a moment later, looking a little awkward while helping the much taller and lankier Sergeant Moffitt. Hilfer noticed the cobra around Moffitt's neck. Anyone who hadn't been in the earlier battle wouldn't think it was a cobra with how docile it was. On top of that, Hilfer found it unusual that one Rat was seen without the other three.

"Prop me up against the wreck of Dietrich's car, Featherstone," Moffitt said with a grimace. "Easy…" He winced again, then relaxed once he was seated. "Thanks."

"No problem." Featherstone went back over to Dietrich.

Moffitt adjusted himself to get a better look at the skinny, wounded captain. "Well, I think this is one truce that doesn't need any formalities. Bloody hell."

"'Bloody hell' is right," Featherstone replied. "Dietrich needs proper medical attention if he's going to survive. There's not much more I can do."

"Anah," Moffitt said, "can you do something?"

The cobra lifted her head. "Dietrich's wound is far too deep for my power to work."

"It talks?" Hilfer mouthed.

"I can apply more pressure to the wound than any of you can." Anah looked at Hilfer. "You must be Private Hilfer. Moffitt and the others have told me quite a bit about you, dear."

"They have?"

"Yes, indeed. Show me your hands."

Nervously, Hilfer held out his scraped hands.

"Come closer. I will not bite, and neither will Moffitt." Anah looked at the English sergeant. "Right?"

"No, I don't bite," Moffitt said. He added with a slight grin, "Much."

Hilfer hesitated. Getting this close to the most venomous snake in North Africa was exactly what his handbook told him not to do. Still… she talked, and she was certainly intelligent. Hilfer knelt in front of Moffitt. He wasn't sure what to expect when it came to the sensation of a snake on his skin. He knew it was a myth that snakes were wet or slimy—after all, the Saharan horned vipers looked like they were made from the desert itself. Anah looked glossy and smooth, like she had been carved from obsidian with painstaking detail.

Hilfer continued looking nervous until feeling Anah wrapping her tail around both of his hands. She felt as smooth as she looked, and a cooling sensation rapidly spread through his hands, completely erasing the raw, stinging feeling. "Wow," he breathed.

"Easy and painless," Anah said.

When she finished, the scrapes on Hilfer's hands looked like they had been healing for several days. He stared at them in disbelief, then looked back at the cobra. "I wish you could do the same for Dietrich."

"So do I, dear." Anah returned the rest of her body to Moffitt's neck. "I will do what I can, but Featherstone is right—Dietrich needs a hospital, and quickly." She looked at Hilfer with sympathetic blue eyes. "I sense you care for him deeply. You value his leadership."

Hilfer was somewhat uncomfortable with the idea that Anah somehow knew that, but she wasn't exactly wrong. Losing Dietrich would be immensely devastating.

Troy and Hitch's jeep were out in front, with Tully following close behind. Night had shrouded the desert, leaving them with only moonlight to guide them. No matter how many times he did it, Troy felt there was something unsettling about being out in the desert at night. He didn't let those feelings take over his mind as he focused on keeping a lookout for Moffitt and Featherstone.

The sight of a pair of fennec foxes perched on a dune, huddled close together and watching them intently sent a chill through Troy, and he remembered why he didn't like being in the desert at night. He highly doubted it was the same pair, but he distinctly remembered two little foxes, staring at him, watching his every unsteady movement as he limped his way through the endless sea of dunes to escape Colonel Beckmann's camp. They were sitting higher than him, similarly to how they were now. They made no sound, strangely quiet for a species known for screeching its head off at everything.

Maybe it was the same pair. He remembered one had more black on the tip of its tail than the other, and more distinct teardrop marks below its eyes. The other held its ears back, and looked at him with a rather squinted gaze.

It was hard to believe that something so small and generally perceived as cute could become so creepy.

"You see something, Sarge?" Hitch asked over the jeep's engine.

Troy pulled himself back in the present, though he could sense the two foxes still watching him. "No. Thought I did, though."

"We should reach the wadi soon," Hitch said. "Maybe about twenty minutes."

"Well, step on it and make it ten!"

Once Hitch was refocused on driving, Troy glanced back in the direction of the foxes. He could no longer see them, but the memory of his first sighting of them was clear. All too clear. He grabbed the reins of his memories and tried forcing his mind back on the task at hand. Dwelling on them was no good for anyone. Not for the mission, and certainly not for him. The memories of what happened in that camp were a viciously feral horse and couldn't give less of a damn when it came to Troy trying to control it—and he had experience with feral horses. This one was different.

"You okay, Sarge?" Hitch asked.

"Yeah. Why?" Troy replied.

Hitch opened his mouth to speak, but backed off when he saw the harsh expression on Troy's face. "I… nothing. Just making sure."

"Focus on driving. Moffitt or Featherstone might be hurt."

Featherstone had been entirely focused on keeping Dietrich alive ever since the crash. Beyond making sure the makeshift bandages were tight, Featherstone was at a loss of what to do next. Dietrich's driver, Hilfer, seemed unsure of what to do as well, and Moffitt was unable to do much of anything until his neck was healed.

They were on their own.

"It won't do us any good to stay here. We have to move," Featherstone said, breaking the silence.

"To where?" Hilfer asked.

"Well, if we're at the wadi, that means we're closer to Allied lines." Featherstone watched Hilfer for a moment, expecting him to argue.

Instead, Hilfer nodded. "If… it saves his life."

"Even if it means you'll be prisoners afterward?"

Hilfer appeared to be hesitating on giving an answer. "I… I refuse to take an action that could cost the captain his life, nor do I want to leave his side."

Featherstone nodded understandingly. "If Moffitt was in the same position, I'd do the same."

"Fortunately, I'm not in that position," Moffitt said from his place next to the Kübelwagen. "That, and I know Troy would be mounting a rescue as soon as he got the impression something's wrong."

"He is probably on his way now," Anah added.

"True. We might not have to wait long."

"I hate to say this, Sergeant, but I don't think waiting is a risk Dietrich can afford. I'm not doubting Troy's speed. I'm just saying it would be best we start walking."

"Moffitt is in no shape to walk yet," Anah said. "Unless you and Hilfer can carry two stretchers at once, we cannot go anywhere."

"Leave me here, then," Moffitt said.

"Are you insane?"

"No. My injury is mild compared to Dietrich's. I can wait as long as you're here, Anah."

Featherstone didn't like the idea of leaving Moffitt there, even though he wouldn't be alone. "You're willing to do this… for an enemy officer?"

"I'm not a heartless man, and… it's Dietrich. Regardless… letting him suffer and potentially die like this isn't right. He wouldn't leave any of us like this."

Hilfer shook his head. "No. He… would not." He looked at Featherstone. "I suppose we should get moving, then."

"Indeed, we shall." Featherstone stood, and jogged back to the jeep wreckage in order to look for anything they could use as a stretcher. He found a blanket and a white truce flag, which he removed from the pole to use the pole itself. "Hilfer! We need something else that can hold up the stretcher! Could you help me out, please?"

Hilfer nodded before dashing over to the wreck of the Kübelwagen to look for something similar to the flagpole.

"Dietrich's stirring a bit," Moffitt said. "Did our first-aid kit survive? He's going to need—"

Featherstone turned to see Dietrich was indeed starting to wake up. He wasn't sure the morphine in their first-aid kit would be enough to help, but it was better than nothing. He dropped the flagpole and immediately began searching for the kit. His searching became frantic when he heard Dietrich's uncharacteristic cries of pain. Finally, he located the kit. "Got it!" He sprinted back over to Dietrich, whose writhing and rapid breathing were causing more blood to blossom on the shirts being used as bandages.

Hilfer was already at Dietrich's side, trying to calm him down and speaking in German.

"Easy, easy, mate." Featherstone uncapped the needle on a syringe full of morphine. "Hilfer, he needs to hold still."

"I am trying!" Hilfer snapped. "Captain, we are getting you help! Private Featherstone has a painkiller. It is temporary, but it will help. Please, stop and take a few deep breaths. Please, Captain, we are working as fast as we can."

"Damn it, he's bleeding through the shirts," Featherstone hissed.

Moffitt leaned forward a little, wincing as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Use mine."

"Thanks." Featherstone sighed as he began tying the shirt around Dietrich. "If we keep this up, we won't have any more blooming clothes to wear."

"Pleasant thought, Featherstone," Moffitt said, dryly. "I doubt we'll get to that point."

Eventually, Hilfer managed to get Dietrich still enough for Featherstone to inject the morphine into his arm. Once Dietrich started calming down, the two privates went back to putting a makeshift stretcher together.

"Sergeant… Moffitt…" Dietrich grunted. "What… happened?"

"We got into a bit of a kerfuffle and crashed our vehicles in the wadi," Moffitt said. "The usual, I suppose. Except this time, you ripped your side open on the door of your car. Troy has mentioned before that your habit of standing in your vehicle was going to get you hurt one day, and it looks like he was right."

"Do me a favor, Sergeant, and tell him a lie when he arrives. I would rather he not rub that in my face. I will let you go if you do."

"I'm afraid, Captain, that you're in no position to take us prisoner. We're closer to Allied lines. In fact, that's where Privates Hilfer and Featherstone will be taking you so you can have your wound stitched up."

"Taking me? No, we can wait for my men."

Moffitt shook his head. "The blood pouring from your stomach says otherwise. If we wait, you won't survive."

Dietrich looked up at Hilfer when the young private and Featherstone returned with their homemade stretcher. "Private? Have you already agreed to this? Taking me to an Allied hospital?"

"I have, Captain. It is the only way to save your life," Hilfer replied.

Dietrich sighed. "Alright."

Featherstone breathed a quiet sigh of relief, not wanting to deal with a reluctant Dietrich. At least he wasn't combative. Moffitt had mentioned several times that Dietrich wasn't physically aggressive when it came to being captured. The worst one could get from Dietrich were dirty looks and deadpan sarcasm. Then again, in a physical fight, Dietrich could hold his own. Thinking about that particularly observation, Featherstone wasn't sure he believed it when he and Hilfer got ready to put Dietrich on their stretcher. He had noticed Dietrich's prominent ribcage when he tore his shirt off to use as a bandage. As he and Hilfer lifted Dietrich, Featherstone noticed he was extremely light for someone at his height. Carrying him would be no issue, and Featherstone wasn't sure he should be happy about that.

Featherstone would lead the way, while Hilfer carried the back. They both made sure they had water, while leaving some for Moffitt. As they began searching for the gentlest slope possible out of the wadi, Featherstone noticed clouds were beginning to shroud the moon.

"Sarge, look!" Hitch shouted. "Looks like two people carrying a stretcher!"

Troy glanced around until seeing what Hitch had. There were indeed two people carrying a stretcher. He hated to think of who might be on the stretcher, and from where they were, Troy couldn't make out any faces, only that both were male and bare-chested.

He ordered Hitch and Tully to approach them. As they drew nearer, Troy recognized Featherstone carrying the head of the stretcher. He also recognized Dietrich's driver, Private Hilfer, carrying the rear. Troy couldn't see the face of whoever was on the stretcher yet, but he recognized the black boots.

That's gotta be Dietrich, Troy thought. Where's Moffitt? He better not be—

"Sergeant Troy!" Featherstone called. "Oh, are we glad to see you, old boy!"

"What happened? Where's Moffitt?" Troy wasn't interested in exchanging pleasantries.

"Moffitt's alright. He's back in the wadi with Anah. Dietrich needs a hospital."

"If Moffitt was alright, he wouldn't be in the wadi. What happened?" Troy was losing patience. He leapt out of the jeep before Hitch could fully stop it, and approached the two men and the stretcher. He looked down at Dietrich, and concealed his shock and disgust at the thick, bloody mass of shirts acting like a bandage on Dietrich's side.

"Hello, Sergeant," Dietrich said.

"Looks like you got yourself into a pretty serious mess here, Captain," Troy replied. "What'd you do?"

"I saw an opportunity to capture Private Featherstone here and Sergeant Moffitt. Needless to say, it did not go well for either of us."

"What'd you do to Moffitt?"

"Moffitt was fortunate to come away with whiplash, which his cobra companion is presently taking care of. However, he cannot walk just yet, as per Anah's instruction."

"Moffitt's walked with worse. He should be with you, not by himself at the bottom of a damn wadi!" Troy bit back a series of curses directed at Anah.

"She did not want him to further injure himself, and Moffitt himself agreed to stay."

Part of Troy wanted to keep arguing. He recognized Moffitt's shirt in the makeshift bandage.

"Yes, he did offer his own clothing for use as a bandage."

"How did you—"

"I know you, Sergeant, and your expressions."

Troy gave him an icy blue glare. "Stay out of my head, Dietrich," he growled.

"Perhaps it is my dying wish to know you better," Dietrich said with a smirk.

"You're not going to die. We'll get you back to a hospital, the medics will put you back together, and then we'll figure out what to do with you." Troy glanced at Hilfer. "And your driver."

"I expect Hilfer to be treated well, Sergeant."

"Don't worry. No harm will come to him. Come on, you just said you know me."

"Indeed, and I know you have slaughtered many of my men while leaving me alive."

"You asked for Hilfer to be left alone. We will honor that. Besides, we've worked with him before. He actually honors truces, unlike most of your others."

Dietrich looked like he wanted to slam his fist against something. Instead, he clenched his fist, and tried to sit up. He grimaced in pain, and a new spot of blood began forming on the shirt-bandage.

"How long has he been bleeding like this?" Troy asked, turning to Featherstone.

"It's been several hours," Featherstone replied. "Frankly, I'm amazed he's still alive."

Troy heard Tully whisper behind him, "The prophecy ain't gonna let him die."

"Yeah," Hitch whispered in agreement.

Troy turned to face them, voice low so Dietrich didn't hear. "We don't know that. Now's not the time to be thinking about that anyway." He looked back at Featherstone and Hilfer. "Alright, set him down and take a breath."

"He's not that heavy, Sergeant," Featherstone said. "I reckon he's no more than eleven stone."

Troy gave him a confused look.

"That's about a hundred fifty-five pounds, Sarge," Hitch said. "That's… light."

Pity pierced Troy's chest, but he didn't focus on it. "We need to get Moffitt and bring Dietrich back to base at the same time. Tully, you and Featherstone go get Moffitt. Hitch, you and Hilfer get Dietrich secured."

Troy watched Tully and Featherstone take off toward the wadi, not liking the fact that the team was splitting up once more. He paced for a moment before looking over at where Hitch was giving Dietrich a quick examination.

"I… don't want to say this, Sarge, but I don't think Dietrich is gonna survive the trip back at this rate, not without an emergency transfusion." Hitch picked up Dietrich's tags. "A-positive. Isn't that—"

"Yeah. It is." Troy looked down at Dietrich, who was looking dazed and somewhat confused. He was extremely pale for someone who spent years at this point in the desert sun. Troy leaned down to feel Dietrich's pulse. Fast and weak. Not good. And he's getting cold. He might be bleeding internally. What's a transfusion going to do? Troy didn't want to think like that. If it gives him a fighting chance… Sighing, Troy took his jacket and shirt off. "Okay. Get that emergency kit, Hitch."

Hilfer watched with subdued surprise as Hitch set up a direct transfusion between Troy and Dietrich. He had seen several strange interactions between the Rats and his captain, but this may have been the strangest thus far. He shook his head to clear his surprise, then knelt down by Dietrich in an attempt to see if there was anything more he could do. He wasn't sure that there was more. A tight feeling rose in his chest. Helplessness sat on his shoulders, weighing heavily on him.

"You doing alright?" Hitch asked, breaking the silence.

"First, Moffitt offers the shirt off his back as a bandage. Now, this," Hilfer said, softly. "You people will never cease to amaze me. You could… easily kill him, but…"

"We won't." Hitch looked over at Troy. "Right, Sarge?"

Troy didn't answer.

Hitch sighed, shook his head, and kept chewing his gum. "Dietrich will be okay," he said, turning back to Hilfer.

Silence fell over their tiny little neutral zone. Hilfer kept watch over Dietrich, who seemed to be hovering in and out of consciousness. He wondered if the captain was even aware that his most troublesome enemy in the whole of North Africa was the one keeping him alive by donating his own blood.

Dietrich started mumbling in his hazy state. "Bear… jackal… deer… snake…" He drew in a breath. "Bear… jackal… jackal… who's the jackal?" he slurred. "Jackal…"

Hilfer gave a frown of concern. "What is he talking about?"

Hitch glanced over at Troy, who was looking down at Dietrich.

"Know the snake… who's the jackal?"

"Dietrich. Rest," Troy said.

Dietrich murmured something else, but it was too slurred to understand, and cut off by a groan.

"Captain? Can you hear me?" Hilfer moved closer to Dietrich on his knees, and gently took the captain's head in his hands. "What is this jackal about?"

"'The paths of the bear and the jackal must intertwine, and the deer and the snake will help you see the abyss that looms before you,'" Hitch said quietly.

"What?"

"Dietrich never told you he's got a prophecy?"

Hilfer shook his head, disbelief crashing over him. "No. W-Where did this come from?" The temple. It must have been from the temple.

"That damn crystal ball temple," Troy muttered. "Anah told him he's got a prophecy."

Hilfer's disbelief gradually melted away to concern and confusion. "That explains why… he has been a bit distant over the last few weeks." He looked back down at Dietrich, who appeared to have gone fully unconscious. Why did you hide this? You do not have to suffer alone. But… how does anyone deal with such knowledge? What does that prophecy even mean, and what can I do to help?

Clouds had completely covered the night sky and blocked out the moon. A peculiar, yet somewhat familiar smell had filled the air. Featherstone recognized it. A common occurrence in Britain. One that every foreigner, regardless of where they were from, seemed to think of whenever Great Britain came to mind: rain.

It wasn't raining where Featherstone and Tully were, but wherever it was, Featherstone felt a nervous twinge in his stomach. "Could you go any faster, Tully?" he asked.

"You're asking me to go faster?" Tully gave Featherstone a quizzical look in the corner of his eye, and adjusted the matchstick in his mouth.

"Yes, and I'm not making a funny—that wadi could turn into a deathtrap if we don't hurry."

Tully nodded in understanding, and put the gas pedal to the floor of the jeep.

The smell of rain grew stronger when the two privates reached the edge of the wadi. The dry riverbed was still empty aside from the jeep and Kübelwagen wrecks, the huge, dark patch of blood from Dietrich, and Moffitt sitting propped up against the German car with Anah wrapped around his neck.

Featherstone jumped out of the jeep and jogged over to the edge of the wadi. "Sergeant!"

Moffitt turned to face him. "I thought you'd be gone longer! Did you get Dietrich back?"

"No, not yet! We ran into Troy! Tully and I came back to get you!"

"Perfect! Well done!" Moffitt took it easy as he stood, steadying himself against the wreckage beside him.

Anah lifted her head. "Move, quickly!" she shouted.

"Why?"

Featherstone noticed it in the corner of his eye. A torrent of muddy water cutting through the wadi, coming straight toward the wrecks—and Moffitt.

"Blast." Moffitt dashed over to the side of the wadi where Featherstone was waiting.

The British private dropped down, holding out his hand. "Grab on!"

Moffitt's tall stature and lanky frame permitted him to leap and climb higher than the average person. He nimbly scaled the cliff as the sound of the water escalated to a roar. The wave of sand, mud, and loose vegetation made light work of taking the two wrecked vehicles. Moffitt grabbed Featherstone's hand. "Pull!"

When he said "pull," he certainly wasn't talking to the flood. The water ripped Moffitt away, as well as Featherstone. Shock and terror overtook Featherstone as he was thrown into the warm, filthy water. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He could taste the water, and struggled to resist the urge to spit it out. Trying to swim proved futile, but before long, he knew he needed to surface. The flood wouldn't let him.

Troy could feel each time Dietrich was conscious, as the transfusion tube would shift a little. He wasn't one to sit still, but in this case, he didn't have much of a choice. He had to stay still, and he had to keep himself higher than Dietrich in order for gravity to assist in the transfusion.

Dietrich regained consciousness briefly. He was still pale and he looked as though all his strength had been drained from him. "What are you doing, Troy? Why am I not in an Allied hospital?"

"You wouldn't have survived the drive," Troy said.

Normally, Dietrich would have argued and questioned how Troy knew that, but he resumed staring up at the cloudy night sky. "I should be dead."

"But you're not."

"No." Dietrich weakly shook his head, and drew in a shaky breath, losing coherence. "I should be. I… should be."

"We're not going to let you."

"No. Make it stop. Please… make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

"Pain. Make the pain… stop."

Hilfer leaned over Dietrich. "How can we make the pain stop, Captain?" When Dietrich didn't respond, Hilfer gently shook him. "Captain?"

Dietrich seemed to be staring right through him. "Make it stop. Make it stop."

"Hitch, is he still bleeding?" Troy asked.

The bespectacled private knelt by Dietrich. He placed a reassuring hand on Hilfer's shoulder before looking at the shirt-bandage. "I'm not seeing any new spots, Sarge. Still a big mess."

"Should we put a new bandage on him?" Hilfer asked.

"No," Troy said. "Those shirts are applying pressure to the wound. I don't want to risk him bleeding again. Let the doctors take care of it when we get back." He hissed a curse. "Tully, Moffitt, and Featherstone should be back by now."

"They might have to carry Moffitt out of the wadi," Hitch said.

"Still."

"Jackal…" Dietrich moaned. "Snake… jackal…" His face contorted in a grimace, and he suddenly clenched his fists, letting out a cry of pain.

"Easy, Dietrich!" Troy leaned down to grip Dietrich's shoulder. He felt the captain's forehead. "He's still cold."

"Captain?" Hilfer took Dietrich's other shoulder. "Whatever is going on in your head, fight it! Fight it! Come back to us!"

Hitch draped a blanket over Dietrich. "I'm going to get a fire started. We gotta get him warm. Hilfer, help me find some kindling. Sarge, can we borrow your lighter?"

Troy reached into a pocket from his shirt lying next to him, and grabbed his lighter to toss it to Hitch. He watched the two privates search around the immediate area for wood and kindling. He was just as cold from not having his shirt on, and he pondered just putting it around his shoulders for some warmth without obstructing the needle.

Dietrich needed it more.

Troy placed his shirt over Dietrich, and tucked it around him. "You can get through this, Captain. Just hold on."

"It's… cold…" Dietrich's breathing quickened. "Frozen… why… why's Moffitt here?"

"Moffitt's not here," Troy said.

Hitch and Hilfer placed some sticks and kindling down as close to Dietrich as possible. He continued murmuring about cold and Moffitt.

"I think he's lost it," Troy muttered.

"He says the same thing about you sometimes," Hilfer said.

Troy gave the young driver a look, but he couldn't say he was surprised to hear that.

"Sarge." Hitch tossed the lighter back to Troy after lighting the kindling. "Tully and the others should be back soon."

"Unless Anah's taking them all on a magical, mystical adventure," Troy said.

Hitch looked hesitant for a moment. "I… don't think that's fair, Sarge. Anah's not crazy."

"That's debatable, given that she's easily entertained by Moffitt talking about sand for hours at a time."

"By that logic, Moffitt's crazy, too."

"Yes, he is, but he's still a man I want at my back in a fight, and he's a good friend. Anah is neither of those, and it's not because she's a snake. Her priority is that stupid prophecy—"

"And protecting Moffitt. She does care about him, Sarge."

"Does she? Or does she only care about him because he's supposedly part of this damn prophecy?"

Hitch looked defeated. "Maybe. I dunno. I don't think we'll know for a while."

"Of course not. Because she refuses to answer any questions."

Hilfer had been switching his gaze between whoever was speaking. "So… no one knows why the captain is the subject of this prophecy?"

"Nope. Not a soul, apart from Little Miss Magic Cobra herself."

"And no one has any idea what it means?"

"Nope. It was just dumped on us at the temple, and never elaborated on. All we know is it consists of four people representing wild animals for some reason, and it's about Dietrich. I'm sorry, Private, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around why Dietrich? Maybe you can answer that."

"I feel like I need more before I can even guess at that. Overall, I would much rather the captain be trusted with such a thing than… most other people. He did not seem happy about it. There was never any arrogance or overconfidence or seeing himself as special."

Troy chose not to continue that conversation, and focused on keeping Dietrich stable. It looked like the bleeding had stopped. The skinny captain was still in rough shape, but Troy wasn't concerned about him suddenly dying on their way back to base.

"Should we go check on Tully?" Hitch asked. "I'd have thought they'd all be back by now."

"Take the jeep and go," Troy said. "Hilfer and I can walk."

"It'll take hours for you to reach the base on foot, Sarge."

"You'll catch up to us. We can't afford to have Dietrich lay here for much longer. Take advantage of him being stable for now."

The direct transfusion was disconnected. Troy and Hilfer made sure Dietrich was bundled up with as many blankets and shirts as possible. He had finally stopped his incoherent mumbling, and hadn't said a word since the transfusion ended. Troy hoped he would stay quiet for the duration of the trip. "You ready, Hilfer?"

"Yes, Sergeant," Hilfer replied.

"Alright. Let's shake it." Troy crouched to grab the front end of the stretcher, while Hilfer took the back. Featherstone was right—Dietrich was a little too light. The two started walking, and Troy looked back once. Upon seeing that Hitch had driven off with the only other jeep, Troy accepted the fact that he and Hilfer were on their own. He had no intention of stopping until they reached the Allied hospital, or unless Tully and Hitch showed up with the jeeps.

Off on one of the dunes, two fennec foxes watched Troy intently.