The sound of water in his ears drowned out everything else as Featherstone slowly started coming around. He felt himself being dragged across wet sand, but didn't have the strength to fight it or ask what was going on. He could faintly hear Moffitt's voice, which convinced him he had no reason to fight against the dragging. His consciousness faded once more, thrusting him back into a darkness where the only sensation was water flowing inside him.

Not much time passed when Featherstone came around again. He was still being dragged through sand, but that eventually stopped. He opened his eyes to see Moffitt, looking quite waif-like with his muddy, wet clothes clinging to his tall and skinny body. Even Anah now looked rough, her once immaculate black scales tarnished with mud. She certainly wasn't complaining, though.

"I think he is waking up," Anah said.

"Good," Moffitt replied. "Let's get the water out of him."

The two carefully turned Featherstone over, then Moffitt started whacking his back. Featherstone coughed forcefully, feeling the water rushing up his throat. Moffitt whacked him again, and kept at it until no more water could be expelled from Featherstone's body. His back was certainly sore, though.

"Thanks for that," Featherstone grunted. "I owe you one, Moffitt."

"Don't bother. You probably saved me from the flood, showing up when you did," Moffitt replied. He helped the British private stand, and didn't let go until he was certain that Featherstone could stand on his own.

"How's your neck?" Featherstone asked.

"Better. Still a little stiff, but I'll be alright once we're out of here." Moffitt glanced around. "I reckon we gave Tully quite a fright, being washed away like that."

"We were only carried about a mile away," Anah said. "He will find us."

"Indeed. Tully's not one to give up."

"I don't think 'give up' is in any of your vocabularies," Featherstone said.

"Not particularly. Can you walk?"

"I think so."

"Good. Let's see if we can meet up with Tully."


Hilfer was impressed with Troy's strength. The American sergeant hadn't slowed even for a second as the two made their way through open desert, carrying Dietrich on a stretcher. The desert at night was quite cold, but Troy was sweating from his effort and his lack of a shirt didn't seem to have much of an effect on him. Hilfer, on the other hand, found it somewhat difficult to keep up with Troy, but refused to slow down, despite feeling the cold. One mistake could further injure Dietrich, or delay his recovery.

Finally, Troy slowed down. "Water break, Hilfer," he said.

Thank goodness, Hilfer thought. He followed Troy's lead while setting down Dietrich, and immediately went to give his captain some water, kneeling by the stretcher and putting his canteen to Dietrich's mouth. "Take it, Captain. Please, you need it."

"He might not be conscious, kid," Troy said.

"I wish I was unconscious," Dietrich muttered.

"Oh. My apologies, Captain." There was a slight bite of sarcasm to Troy's voice.

"You are quite rough, just so you know. I would like to not start bleeding again on this little journey of ours." Dietrich took the water from Hilfer.

"Are we eventually going to get a 'thank you for saving my life' from you?"

"Key word there being 'eventually.' Yes. 'Eventually.'"

Hilfer bit his tongue. He wasn't sure Dietrich would ever understand how much he appreciated the Rats doing this, unless this was going to be a conversation saved for later, when none of the Rats, especially Troy, was around to listen.

Once the three men had their water, Troy and Hilfer returned to their places in front and behind the stretcher. On Troy's count of three, they lifted Dietrich, and resumed carrying him through the desert.

Hilfer noticed two pairs of glowing eyes and small, dark shapes had been watching them as they walked. The two shapes seemed to be following them, and he noticed Troy looked uncomfortable each time he glanced in their direction. It was easy to see the anxious shivers passing through Troy without his shirt on. The knowledge of Dietrich being the subject of a prophecy made Hilfer wonder if the two creatures following them weren't just animals, but something supernatural in origin. He had never been too familiar with the supernatural. It existed and it could be dangerous were about all he knew. It was quite complex, so he understood why Troy didn't care much for it.

Hilfer felt all the thoughts in his head come to a screeching halt when he realized he was sympathizing with Troy of all people, the man who gave Dietrich more migraines than what should be humanly possible. This really is a strange night, Hilfer thought. He glanced at Troy's back, wondering what else he was going to learn that night. Learning that Troy and Dietrich shared blood types was certainly fascinating. Meeting a talking snake. Discovering his own captain had a prophecy. It wasn't going to end, was it?

The two little shadows began trotting down the sand dune they had been perched on. As they got closer, Hilfer smiled upon seeing they were just fennec foxes. The foxes sniffed around the sand for a moment, before running alongside the men and the stretcher.

"Go on, shoo!" Troy snapped at them. "Get outta here!"

Hilfer frowned at Troy's reaction. "They are harmless, Sergeant. Why tell them to leave?"

Troy didn't respond, but he was certainly intent on staying far away from them.


All the air had been sucked from his lungs when Troy saw those two damn foxes running toward them. He felt like he had been slapped in the face before being thrust into a vivid memory of staggering away from Colonel Beckmann's camp, seeing the foxes watching him. They greatly unnerved him, because something deep within his gut was telling him that they weren't just ordinary foxes. Their behavior seemed so calculated, so unlike how a normal animal would be. Most wouldn't want anything to do with a weak, wounded man stumbling through the desert, unless they were waiting for him to die so they could chew on his bones. Somehow, he didn't think that was what they were after. Somehow, he knew that wasn't what they were after. Then again, he was injured, dehydrated, and starving. Not exactly a good combination for a sound state of mind.

The foxes kept on him, even as he told them to go away. They never lunged or nipped at him. Instead, they kept glancing up at him, and dashing forward, stopping to wait for Troy and Hilfer to catch up.

Are they… trying to guide us? I know where I'm going. I don't need their help. Troy glared at them. How would I even know that they can be trusted? They're probably in league with Anah. Great. Last thing we need is any of her friends hanging around. It didn't take long for Troy to regret thinking that, especially since he recalled Anah saying once to Moffitt that she hadn't had any friends in two thousand years. That's a long time to be lonely. In a way, Troy could sympathize, but it wasn't something he wanted to be thinking about in that moment. It was something to be locked away within the fortress of his mind.

Regardless of why the two foxes were there, they weren't welcome. They didn't get the message, though. They kept prancing around, kept letting Troy and Hilfer catch up, and then continued on their merry way.

"They seem to want something," Hilfer said. "Should we follow them, Sergeant?"

"No. Whatever they want will just be a distraction," Troy replied.

"How can you be so sure of that, Sergeant?" Dietrich asked.

"You're in no position to make suggestions, Captain."

"I doubt the foxes would show up for no reason if they are behaving like this."

"Captain, need I remind you, that your life is on the line here?" Troy looked over his shoulder to glare at Dietrich. "We have no time to be chasing after whatever mystical nonsense these critters want!"

"You have no way of knowing if this is actually nonsense, like you say."

"I don't care. We need to get you to a hospital, and fast. Again, we have no time to be dealing with stuff like this."

Much to Troy's surprise, Dietrich didn't continue the argument. "Fine. Have it your way, Sergeant."

Troy walked a little faster. He felt Hilfer struggle a little, but paid no attention to him. The German private nearly lost his grip on the stretcher, and Troy heard Dietrich say, "I would appreciate you not dropping me, Private."

"Sorry, Captain," Hilfer replied.

Troy still kept his current pace. He struggled with keeping his own mannerisms and stress in check, as Dietrich was beginning to take notice of it.

"You seem quite peeved with the presence of the foxes, Sergeant," Dietrich said.

Troy didn't respond. He felt that was the best thing to do, as he felt that Dietrich was probably enjoying trying to get a rise out of him.

"Why do you find them so annoying? Is it for the simple fact that they are in the way of your mission? Much like how you perceive Anah?"

Yes. They're not important. They're in the way. Everything that has to do with your damn prophecy is in the way of winning this war. Troy kept all that to himself.

"Were she not so important to Sergeant Moffitt, not to mention extremely venomous, you probably would have found a way to get rid of Anah," Dietrich said. "Is that correct, Sergeant?"

"Well, she is important to Moffitt, so, no, I'm not getting rid of her," Troy replied.

"That was not my question, Sergeant. I am asking, if Anah was not important to Moffitt, would you get rid of her?"

"Not answering that. This also isn't about Anah."

"No, but you get very agitated whenever she is brought up, because you see her as a distraction."

"Yeah. She's a distraction."

"But, she has helped you, right? I have heard of several, ah, incidents where German officers died of snakebite not long after encountering you and your little troupe of mischief."

"She's saved our necks a few times, but that's it. She'll only step in—well, slither in, whenever Moffitt's in direct danger."

"She has also deliberately avoided harming me."

"Yeah, because she thinks you're special."

Dietrich glared at him. "I do not consider myself 'special,' but I highly doubt what I saw in that crystal ball were false."

"And what did you see in the crystal ball?"

"You would not believe me if I told you, and I do not think I should tell you. Or anyone."

"That doesn't exactly help convince me of this crap."

"What would convince you?"

"I don't know." Troy was quiet for a moment. "For the record, this conversation's over, Dietrich."

"Suit yourself, Sergeant."


It was rare for Tully to feel panic. Fear, yes, but he kept it inside and rarely let it show on his face. He had heard Troy say many times that Tully was one of the calmest people he had ever met. For Tully to panic meant that something was seriously wrong.

Watching Moffitt, Anah, and Featherstone get swept away in a flash flood was certainly something seriously wrong.

Tully futilely tried to reach out and grab Featherstone when the water took him. There was no way he could have done that without being dragged into the raging flood himself. A desire to scream built up rapidly inside him, but he channeled his panic into pure energy and determination as he sprinted back to the jeep, gunned the motor, and sped off in the direction the water was flowing. He bit down hard on his matchstick, causing it to snap in half. Unable to get a new one while driving, Tully spat both pieces out. He glanced to his right, seeing Featherstone's head occasionally coming above the water. Anah and Moffitt showed at times as well, and at no point did the water manage to tear Anah away from Moffitt. Tully had faith in her to keep him safe. It was Featherstone he was more worried about.

Even when Tully could no longer see them, he kept going. He cursed to himself, hoping and praying they hadn't drowned. How long does this damn river go on for? He let up on the gas, beginning to coast along the side of the once-barren wadi, keeping his eyes open for the two Englishmen and an Egyptian cobra.

He stopped the jeep when he hadn't seen them for a while. "Damn it!" he hissed a lot. "Sarge is gonna be so mad…" Tully clenched his fists, and would've punched the jeep's dashboard if he didn't love that vehicle so much. Instead, he released his fists, sighed heavily, and gripped the jeep's steering wheel. He progressed forward, slowly, focusing on watching the river for any signs of the Brits and the snake.

Relief crashed over him when he saw a tall and soaking wet figure with a slightly shorter companion in tow walking toward the jeep. "Moffitt!" Tully called. "That you?"

"Yes, it is, Tully!" Moffitt called back. "It's good to see you."

"You guys alright?" Tully stopped the jeep and hopped out.

"A bit damp, but alright." Moffitt grinned, water running from his hair.

"'A bit damp,' he says," Anah muttered. She looked quite cold.

Tully handed Moffitt and Featherstone a blanket from the back of the jeep. As they dried off, the sound of a motor gradually grew louder, and Hitch came from over a hill not too far off. He stopped quickly, throwing sand everywhere, then got out to run over to the Kentuckian private.

"Tully! You got 'em?" Hitch asked, coming to a halt in front of his fellow driver.

"Yeah. They're okay, just wet."

"A bit damp, actually," Featherstone said with a smile.

Anah glared at him. "Do you need me to define 'damp' to you two lunatics?"

"Define 'damp' later, Anah," Moffitt said. His expression turned serious. "What's going on, Hitch?"

"Sarge and Hilfer took off with Dietrich on foot. I was sent to check on you," Hitch said.

"How's Dietrich?"

"Sarge gave him a transfusion to keep him alive."

Moffitt raised an eyebrow. "Troy and Dietrich share blood types?"

"Apparently, they do."

"Learn something new every day," Tully added. He finally had a chance to get a new matchstick. "Get dried off as best you can, then we can go catch up to Sarge and Hilfer."

"Hopefully, Troy isn't terrifying Hilfer," Moffitt muttered.

"I think Sarge cares about him deep down," Hitch said with a smirk.

"Well, don't ever suggest that in Troy's presence. He might tear your head off."

"Nah, he'll just glare at you." Now it was Tully's turn to smirk. "Hitch, take your pick for a passenger: Moffitt and Anah, or Featherstone."

"I'll take Featherstone. Moffitt's yours anyway," Hitch said. He and Featherstone headed for their jeep.

Tully turned to Moffitt. "So, Sarge donated blood to Dietrich. Our relationship with him is already… complicated, to say the least. Why do I feel like this is just gonna make things even more complicated?"

"The prophecy has already made things ridiculously complicated," Moffitt replied.

Tully glanced at Anah. "What do you make of this, ma'am? Is Sarge even part of the prophecy?"

"I cannot say. Each of the four roles must find out who they are on their own," Anah said.

"You told me I'm the snake." Moffitt gave her a look.

"To get the ball rolling. You will help the other three realize who they are." Anah was quiet until they were all in the jeep. "Prophecy or not, Troy's relationship in particular with Dietrich will have an impact on the final stage of the prophecy."

"How so?"

"Patience, dear. You will see."

Moffitt sighed. "If you're just going to tell me to be patient, why bother saying anything?"

"To make you think. I cannot spoil all of the surprises."


Featherstone gradually became uncomfortable in his wet clothing while sitting next to Hitch in the jeep. He was glad that they were all finally going back to base, but he couldn't help but worry for Dietrich, as well as Hilfer. He admired the level of respect Hilfer had for his commanding officer. Clearly, Dietrich had given him a reason to care that much, and it was easy to see Hilfer had been struggling to hold his composure the whole time they were bandaging Dietrich with the shirts in the wadi.

It hurt to think that there would likely come a day where he would be shooting at Hilfer, and vice versa.

When they caught up with Troy, Hilfer, and Dietrich, Featherstone noticed the pair of fennec foxes scurrying ahead of them. Snakes, foxes, what's next? he thought as he got out of the jeep to help the group load up Dietrich. The skinny captain was very pale and shivering, even though he was bundled up in blankets. Troy, despite his state of partial undress, wasn't shivering, but he looked exhausted.

"Easy does it," Troy said as they placed Dietrich in the jeep. "That's precious cargo."

"How's he doing?" Featherstone asked.

"Not good." Troy held onto the Browning's mount, crouching above Dietrich. "Come on, Hitch, let's shake it! Get back to base!"

Featherstone looked back at Troy as the jeeps sped back to Allied lines. The American sergeant cursed after checking Dietrich's pulse, then grabbed his shoulders. "We're almost there, Captain! Don't you quit! I'm not letting you quit! We'll get you fixed up!" Troy's knuckles whitened as he took the blankets covering Dietrich in his fists. "Stay with us, Captain! Stay, damn it!" He continued talking to Dietrich, urging him to stay alive and looking like he was trying not to be too rough with him.

Hitch glanced over his shoulder once while driving. Even Moffitt, Anah, Hilfer, and Tully were looking in Dietrich's direction. Featherstone couldn't deny that this was one of the strangest things he had seen in this war, but he knew it wouldn't be strange if there wasn't a war on. Dietrich wasn't even in uniform anymore. He could've easily been one of them.

Featherstone thought back to a conversation he had with Moffitt before they departed Major Dandridge's base. Moffitt had mentioned that the Rats' relationship with Dietrich had always been a bit strange, and he wasn't sure if it was just because of the prophecy. There was something different about him from the start, Featherstone remembered Moffitt saying.

Troy's one-sided conversation with Dietrich pulled Featherstone from his thoughts. When they pulled back into base, the jeeps made a beeline for the infirmary. Troy was the first to jump off either of the jeeps, and dashed into the infirmary. Within seconds, medics had come out, and were taking Dietrich off the jeep. Featherstone could hear their voices while prepping Dietrich for surgery and cutting the makeshift shirt bandages off him. He stood next to Troy, who was looking more and more exhausted.

That didn't come as a surprise—Featherstone looked at his watch, and saw that it was well after midnight. It felt later than it really was, and he had a feeling that night wasn't over. "Sergeant," he said, "we should probably get to bed."

Troy shook his head. "No. Not yet."

"Not yet?"

"Not yet." Troy glared at him. "You can go to bed if you want."

Moffitt gently touched Featherstone's shoulder. "Let's leave Troy alone. I'll go make some tea."

Featherstone nodded. He was reluctant to leave, but figured having tea was better than standing around and doing nothing. In the corner of his eye, he saw Hilfer was seated on a bench, being watched by Hitch and Tully. Hilfer's head was bowed in silent prayer.


Troy wasn't worried about Hilfer escaping, even if Hitch and Tully weren't watching him. He found himself entering the infirmary, but didn't feel fully in control of his own body. His breath was slow, even, yet riddled with anxiety. He wanted badly to dismiss it as being exhausted, but something deep inside was telling him there was much more to this. He felt his chest tighten when one of the medics said that Dietrich had gone into shock.

Shock. Troy was no stranger to it. Fleeting glimpses of voices in similar tones were saying the same thing in his mind. "He's going into shock. Severe dehydration, blood loss."

He'll make it, Troy thought. I did.

He didn't notice the two fennec foxes alongside him, still as statues. There was something else in the room, but Troy couldn't bring himself to turn around and look. He couldn't tell if it was human or animal, nor was he even sure it was something entirely natural. All he could do was stand and listen, but instead of hearing the medics in the operating room behind the door, he was hearing the British doctors working over him after he stumbled and collapsed in their base after he escaped Colonel Beckmann's camp.

The word "shock" continued echoing across his mind. He remembered each needle prick, each breath mask, each time he awoke and screamed. The doctors holding him down reminded him too much of Beckmann's guards. He didn't like being held down in general, but that just made him fight harder. It got to a point where he was sedated for a while. That was the only way to treat his injuries and infections.

Dietrich won't go through that. He'll pull through. He's not in the rough shape I was in. Troy got out of his own memories. He tried to focus on Dietrich, hoping and praying that he could actually be saved. Why? Why should I care? Any other day, we'd be shooting at each other and it wouldn't matter if we killed each other. Why the hell does it matter whether Dietrich lives or dies?

The presence behind him stepped closer, and Troy finally forced himself to turn around. The unnaturalness of the presence made him suspect it was Anah, but instead, he found himself face-to-face with the lithe form of a black-backed jackal. A cold and nervous feeling grabbed his chest in sharp talons. "No," he breathed. "No, no, no, no, this isn't true…" Troy turned back toward the operating room door. Just don't look at it. It'll go away. It'll go away. It can't be possible. It's not possible.

"Troy?" Moffitt's voice cut through his frantic thoughts.

Troy swallowed hard before turning around. He realized sweat was running down his body in waves. The jackal was gone, replaced by the tall, lanky Moffitt—and Anah wrapped around his shoulders. "What is it?" Troy asked.

"I… think it's best we turn in for the night, and let the medics do their job," Moffitt said.

Troy shook his head. "No. I can stay up."

"You're clearly exhausted."

"So are you."

"I really don't want to be a pain, Troy, but—"

"Then go to bed."

"I can keep Troy company, if you wish," Anah said.

Troy glared at her. "Oh, you're the last… person I want keeping me company."

Moffitt sighed. "Troy, what's gotten into you? You're exhausted and not thinking straight."

"Just leave him be," Anah said softly.

Moffitt was quiet for a moment. "Alright." He turned and left the infirmary.

Troy went back to staring at the door. He heard something else behind him, and turned around, expecting the jackal again. Instead, it was Anah, all by her lonesome.

"What do you want?" Troy asked.

"I came to ask what you saw," Anah said.

Troy gave her a confused look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You looked as though you had a vision of some kind."

"I don't know where you're getting that from. Moffitt's right; I'm tired. That's all."

"Then why are you avoiding bed, dear?"

Troy refused to answer. There really was no good answer. He looked back at the door.

"Dietrich will live, if that is what you are worried about. You saved his life."

"Well, it isn't the first time," Troy said with a sigh.

"No. Nor will it be the last."

A chill passed through Troy, but he refused to show it.


Anxiety and exhaustion fought viciously within Hilfer, until he fell asleep in a tent, still under guard by Tully and Hitch. The two American privates took shifts, with one watching over Hilfer while the other slept. The desert sun, in a pleasantly warm state gradually building to its typical harshness, peered through the tent's entrance, as well as random holes and spots where the fabric was fading. Hilfer had managed to sleep, but it was far from restful. The panic about Dietrich's condition was present, but his exhaustion was heavier.

He could hear the camp coming alive outside, and slowly stood and walked to pull back the entrance. Hilfer expected to see Hitch or Tully, but instead, Moffitt was sitting in a folding chair, holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Good morning," Moffitt said, a slight smile on his face. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Not particularly. How is Captain—"

"In recovery."

Relief smashed through Hilfer's panic, allowing his exhaustion to creep further to the surface. He leaned against the chair, prompting Moffitt to stand and allow the younger man to sit.

"Here." Moffitt handed the cup to Hilfer. "Thought you might appreciate something of a soothing quality."

"Is this not giving aid and comfort to the enemy?" Hilfer asked.

Moffitt smirked. "Can we really call each other enemies?"

"Technically…"

"Well—" Moffitt winked, "I'll say it's medicine." His smile faded. "Besides, you and Dietrich will likely be headed to a prisoner-of-war camp once Dietrich is strong enough to be moved."

"How long will that be?"

"Likely more than a month. The doctors said Dietrich was extremely lucky—the wound was quite deep, but he narrowly avoided a bowel perforation, which probably would've killed him if the serious loss of blood didn't. He still went into shock from blood loss, but somehow… he pulled through."

"Do they know Sergeant Troy gave him a transfusion?"

"They do. I told them. Right now, the biggest concern is making sure Dietrich doesn't develop an infection, and getting his fluids back where they need to be."

"When he wakes up, that will be a challenge, as well as feeding him," Hilfer said, glancing down at his tea. He bit his lip, hesitating on whether or not he wanted to discuss this with Moffitt. Dietrich's poor habits began after the temple, after the reveal of the prophecy. Moffitt was part of that prophecy. Perhaps he could shed light on things. "The captain stopped eating regularly when he returned from the temple. No one knows why."

"Stress, perhaps," Moffitt said.

"That is what I was thinking. He… is not at all happy about being the subject of this prophecy. He became very withdrawn—he has always been a bit withdrawn, though, but this was far worse. Now that I know a little about why he is upset, there are still more questions than answers. I mean, what is the abyss?"

Moffitt shrugged. "I wish I knew, but I don't."

"Why are you the snake?"

"Again, I don't know, but I had a number of strange interactions with snakes long before this, so… it was likely always meant to be that way. Right now, there is so little that we know about the prophecy that it's hard to know how to help Dietrich with it." Moffitt sat in the sand, and looked at Hilfer, lowering his voice. "He'll need people—good people—at his side. I think you fit the category of 'good people.'"

"I have no idea what to do, though."

"None of us do." Moffitt gave him a reassuring smile. "Keep doing what you always do. You—and Dietrich—will get through this." He changed the topic by gesturing to the tea. "Good, isn't it?"

"Quite good, actually. What kind?" Hilfer wasn't sure he was ready to change the subject, but he felt it would be better to not dwell on the prophecy, especially since it seemed like Moffitt really didn't have any answers.

"Assam tea, from a box my father sent me."

Hilfer concealed his surprise at Moffitt's generosity. He imagined it wasn't often that Moffitt received gifts like this. To just give up one of his teas felt like a pretty big deal. Part of Hilfer wanted to give it back and say that something that special shouldn't be wasted on him, but another part told him to just accept it. A kind gesture like that, especially in the middle of a war where he and Moffitt were on opposite sides, was something to be deeply appreciated. "Thank you," Hilfer said in a quiet voice.

"Not a problem," Moffitt replied. "I can get breakfast for you if you'd like."

"I…" Hilfer shoved aside his arguments. He couldn't remember when he last ate, and took that as a sign to mean he should accept a meal, wherever it came from. "That would be nice."

"I will warn you, it won't be anything to write home about. I strongly suggest avoiding the powdered eggs." Moffitt stood and led Hilfer back to his own tent, where Hitch, Tully, and Featherstone were having their own breakfasts and coffee. Troy was sound asleep in his cot, still shirtless and wearing his hat. Smirking, Moffitt grabbed a blanket and draped it over Troy, then he made a shushing gesture to Hilfer. "Troy finally went to bed at around three in the morning, so keep conversations as quiet as you can. He needs his sleep."

Hilfer nodded, then he noticed someone was missing. "Where is Anah?"

"She's visiting Dietrich."

"That is allowed?" Hilfer raised an eyebrow.

"Of course it is." Moffitt shrugged. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I am… just surprised that your commanders are comfortable with her presence."

"Not all of them are, but she's slowly winning them over. Apart from Troy, I'd say General Tapscott has been the most difficult for Anah to contend with. I think she took a few years off his life when she feigned a strike at his hand. And I think I took another few years off when I just casually picked up Anah before she could be properly introduced to the general."

Tully laughed a little before looking at Moffitt. "I thought it was when you were taking the horned vipers out of his staff car with your bare hands."

Moffitt took on a grin of pride. "That, too. He was right stunned while watching me, and once all the vipers were out, I looked at him, and said, 'Magic.'"

"Yep, and from that day forward, Boggs put you on snake duty," Hitch said.

"Could we borrow you at Dietrich's camp someday?" Hilfer asked, smiling for the first time in over a day. "Once in a while, we have problems with snakes."

"You'll have to get in line. I asked for him at my camp first," Featherstone replied.

"Oh, no, I might have to start charging for my services." Moffitt covered a laugh so as not to wake Troy.

"Would a cup of tea and a scone be an acceptable price?" Featherstone asked.

"What type of scone are we talking about?"

"Well, there's a fella back at my camp who makes these incredible cinnamon—"

Moffitt made a face. "I cannot stand cinnamon."

"It's baked in."

"Still. No cinnamon."

"Killjoy," Tully muttered. "Cinnamon goes good on just about everything. Especially donuts."

Moffitt ignored him. "If you really want to impress me, I'll take scones with red gooseberry jam. Actually, gooseberry jam on its own would be a reasonable price for my snake-removal services."

"I'll see what I can find, then," Featherstone said, grinning.

For a moment, Hilfer felt as though he was part of the Rats' little ragtag group. His smile and laughter quickly faded when reality struck him in his mind, but he told himself to just enjoy these moments while they lasted, because it probably wasn't going to be long before things went back to the way they were. He didn't want to think about that. Deep down, he wished things were different, but no amount of wishing was going to make things change. He still had a job to do, for now, and that was to take care of Dietrich when he was able to visit his captain.