When Troy heard the laughter and happy voices of his men, he did his best to not show that he was still badly in need of sleep. His head was heavy and there was a dull ache behind his eyes. There was a faint smell of coffee, but the smell of tea was far stronger, and not a very perky one for Troy. He would never understand how that stuff managed to wake Moffitt in the mornings. Grunting a little with grumpy tiredness, Troy didn't bother trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, and an overwhelming sense of weakness was beginning to hit him hard. It was far too intense to just be from a lack of sleep.

"Good morning, Troy," Moffitt said before taking another sip of his tea.

Troy stood up from his cot, immediately overwhelmed by dizziness. Stood up too fast, that's all. He reached to steady himself on one of the poles holding the tent up, and blackness overtook his vision. He felt himself landing in the warm sand, and heard the others scrambling up to help.

He slowly came around to hear Moffitt saying, "Steady, now. Get him back on his cot."

There was a light pressure on his right wrist. "Pulse is rather quick," Featherstone said.

"Can't say that's a huge surprise." Moffitt sighed irritably. "He barely slept, didn't eat, hardly drank, and on top of that, gave a pretty sizable blood donation to Dietrich. And then he tries to get up and go about his day as normal."

"Is there anything I can do?" Hilfer asked.

"Do you see the box of assorted teas on my cot? Get an orange tea."

"You know he's not gonna like this," Tully said.

"Oh, I'm aware." Moffitt took the tea when Hilfer held it out to him. "Thank you."

As soon as the potent smell of orange tea was in the air, Troy was dimly aware of the fact that Moffitt hadn't been kidding. To waste a cup of tea was a huge insult to Moffitt, but Troy would have preferred coffee, not orange-flavored leaf water. "I'm not drinking that," he moaned.

"Yes, you are!" Moffitt said, sternly. "You need it."

"No, Moffitt, I need a cup of coffee—"

"You can have your coffee later. Right now, you need something a little more substantial. You gave blood and you're practically running on fumes."

"Gave blood…" Troy rubbed his face, trying to clear away the blurry mess in his head. "Dietrich… How's Dietrich?"

"He's in recovery right now. The doctors were able to save him." Moffitt was quiet for a moment. "They're actually crediting you with saving his life. They think he would've gone into shock a lot sooner and probably would have died before we reached the base. You made the right call."

"Thanks."

"Dietrich owes you one now," Hitch said, chewing a fresh stick of bubblegum.

Hilfer glanced at him, then back at Troy, not saying a word.

Moffitt stirred the tea before helping Troy sit up and handing it to him. "Drink it. All of it."

"Damn it." Troy sighed and took the cup. He recoiled a little before taking a sip, then grimaced. "If I want orange anything, I'll take juice. I'm not finishing it."

Moffitt glared at him with stone-cold gray eyes. "Drink it, or I'm getting Anah to 'assist.'"

"Where is the little pest anyway?"

"Visiting Dietrich."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Troy wanted to keep arguing, but arguing with Moffitt about Anah was a futile endeavor that no sane man should ever undertake—then again, Troy admitted to himself privately that he didn't think of himself as sane all the time. That, and his own brother had told him that he had moments of insanity, sometimes in jest, but also much more seriously. He kept sipping the tea, not finding it to be doing much of anything for him.

"They will let me see the captain, right?" Hilfer asked.

"If not, we'll make sure you can," Tully said.

"We're stubborn that way," Moffitt added with a grin.

"Usually, your stubbornness causes us a lot of trouble," Hilfer said. "This time… I appreciate it."

Troy sighed heavily and looked at Hilfer. "Hey, kid?"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"You keep showering us with praise like that, and we'll start pressuring you to defect and join us."

"Maybe we should anyway," Hitch said.

Hilfer shook his head. "Not unless the captain defects, and… I am not sure what would persuade him to do so."

"He'll be sent to POW camp when he has the strength anyway," Moffitt said. "You are a good driver. The LRDG could certainly use you."

Another headshake. "It would mean firing on my former comrades, and that… I could never bring myself to do. I apologize."

"That's alright," Troy replied. He took another drink of the tea, and cursed himself for letting Moffitt intimidate him into actually having it in the first place.

A long black shape appeared under the tent flap, leaving a winding trail in the sand. Anah slithered up Moffitt's leg, then his chest to get to his shoulders.

"Well, hello, Anah," Moffitt said. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

"I came to let you and everyone else know that Dietrich is ready for visitors—he is quite cranky, though, so be nice," Anah replied. She turned her bright blue gaze to Troy. "Look who is awake! And—" Her smile faded, and she looked at Moffitt. "Dear, he is drinking tea. Is he alright? Did you somehow manage to civilize him?"

"No," Moffitt said. "We're trying to get his strength back up. He passed out after getting up and trying to walk."

"I see. He does have a tendency to be about as bad as Dietrich is when it comes to taking care of himself."

Troy rolled his eyes. With much reluctance, he finished the tea, and stood up. He took it slower, not wanting to pass out this time, but could still feel his body sorely lacking in energy. That wasn't important now. What was important was checking up on Dietrich.

Why does checking on Dietrich matter? Is it because he's got my blood running in his veins now? Is it because of the… visitor? He refused to acknowledge the jackal, even in thought. I'm not the jackal in the prophecy. I can't be. I don't want to be. He doubted that was something he had much control over, but it also wasn't something he wanted to think about. He pushed it out of his mind as he went into the infirmary.

Dietrich had been given some privacy with a curtain in one corner of the recovery section. He was still pale, but looking less cold, and staring up at the top of the tent. A bottle of blood marked with O-positive was hanging by the bed. There was a somewhat blank look in his brown eyes. Somewhat. Troy sensed something akin to hopelessness in them as well. Eventually, Dietrich's eyes shifted to his new visitor.

"Sergeant," he said.

"Hi, Captain," Troy replied. Dizziness was starting to creep up on him again, and he leaned against a tentpole, trying not to show his weakness.

"You did not even have the decency to put a shirt on in front of an officer? Then again, I am not surprised."

Troy didn't even realized he was still half-undressed from the night before. He imagined his shirt had been destroyed since it was used to mop up Dietrich's blood.

"What do you want, Sergeant? The nurses will probably kick you out if you keep standing there."

"Just came to check on you."

"Anah already did that. Where is Private Hilfer?"

"Having tea and breakfast with the others. You want him?"

"Let him finish. He had a long night."

"So did you."

Dietrich nodded, and looked away for a moment. Without regaining eye contact with Troy, he said, "One of the doctors who operated on me said that my survival can be directly attributed to you and your quick blood donation, so I suppose a… 'thank you' is in order."

"Was that difficult for you to say?"

"You could just accept it and move on."

I really should. Troy shifted a little, until he was directly in front of Dietrich's bed. A strange feeling came over him, one he wanted to dismiss as his weakness and dizziness. There was something more to it, though. He felt that odd presence behind him, followed by the jackal's whiskers against his hand. Suddenly, he found himself falling, all weight leaving his head.

"Nurse! Nurse!" Dietrich's voice was the last thing he heard before all his senses went completely numb.

Hilfer was finishing his cup of tea when Hitch offered to go see what was taking Troy so long in the infirmary. He and the others waited patiently, then a worried-looking Hitch entered their tent, saying, "Something's wrong with Sarge."

"What do you mean?" Moffitt asked.

"He passed out in front of Dietrich's bed," Hitch replied.

Without hesitation, the group left the tent and headed to the infirmary. Medics were already hovering over Troy, and one turned to face the rest of the Rats and their companions. "He'll live, but he needs to rest and have a lot of fluids."

In the corner of his eye, Hilfer was stunned to see Dietrich limping over, dragging the pole with the bottle of blood with him.

"You should be resting as well, Captain," the medic said. "Go on, back to bed with you."

"Listen to him, Captain," Hilfer added.

"I would like to know what happened," Dietrich said. "That is all."

"Troy's overworked himself," Moffitt replied. "Giving blood certainly took a toll, but a toll he was willing to take. I would've done the same in his position."

"Put him back in bed, Sergeant," the medic ordered.

Moffitt looked at Dietrich. "Lean on Hilfer. I'll carry the pole."

Dietrich shook his head. "You really do—"

"If you pass out, you might rip your stitches open. Back to bed."

Hilfer let Dietrich lean on him, and did his best to be as gentle as possible when he felt the thick pad of bandages on Dietrich's right side. It pained him to see how such little effort was exhausting the captain. He was very nearly dragging Dietrich when they got back to the secluded corner of the tent. "There you are, Captain," Hilfer said, slowly helping Dietrich sit on the cot. "Take it easy."

Dietrich was slumped over once he was seated. Hilfer pulled back the blankets and draped them over the captain once he was lying down. He turned to look up at Moffitt, and he noticed Moffitt was blankly staring. "Sergeant?" Hilfer asked.

Moffitt was quiet for a moment, then spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "Why does this feel so familiar?"

"Something similar has appeared before in dreams and visions," Anah said.

"That's it."

Anah slithered around to Moffitt's left shoulder to look at Dietrich. "Something similar was seen in the crystal ball."

Dietrich faced her. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"What was seen in the crystal ball?" Hilfer asked.

"Nothing of your concern," Dietrich said. His tone didn't suggest that he didn't trust Hilfer with that knowledge, but rather that he was trying to protect Hilfer.

Protect him from what?

Hilfer didn't press further, and instead sat at the foot of the bed. "Can I get you anything, Captain?"

"Not sure there is much you can do, Private," Dietrich said.

"I imagine you're restricted on what you can have," Moffitt added.

"I am not hungry, or thirsty. Please, leave me alone."

"Unfortunately, Captain, you're stuck with me. Hilfer's not allowed anywhere without an escort."

"Fine. At least you are more tolerable than…" Dietrich looked in the direction of Troy's cot. The annoyance suddenly vanished from his eyes. Dietrich sighed before resting his head on the pillow. "Never mind."

"You do need to get your strength back, sir," Hilfer said. "Sergeant Moffitt has lots of tea. I am sure there—"

"No. No tea, no food. Nothing."

"Sir—"

"I said, no."

Moffitt gently touched Hilfer's shoulder. "Just let him go. He'll want something eventually."

A choking sensation rose in Hilfer's throat. Tears began blurring his vision as he glanced at his watch. It had been a little over twelve hours since the accident, and the stress, fear, and anxiety were toppling down on top of him uncontrollably. Twelve whole hours. Hilfer tried to swallow past the growing desire to cry, but cracks were beginning to show in his normally steadfast manner as he said, "No, he will not."

Moffitt patted Hilfer's shoulder. "Let's go outside and find somewhere private."

Hilfer held himself together until he was led out behind the Rats' tent. Moffitt asked Anah to give them a moment, then sat down with Hilfer next to him. "Alright. Let's talk, but first, get out whatever has been building up in your system over the last few hours."

"W-What do you mean by that?" Hilfer asked.

"I mean, you clearly need to cry. Go ahead and cry. It's perfectly alright. It hasn't been easy for you, I get it. You were up most of the night, worried Dietrich was going to die, you're both going to spend the rest of the war in a prisoner-of-war camp, now Dietrich's recovering but he's pushing you away even though all you're doing is trying to help. He just came out of surgery, though, so I wouldn't be too hard on him, but I don't blame you for being upset."

Hilfer drew in a breath, unsure if he really should cry.

"It's not good to let this fester. Let it out. You'll feel better, and then you can keep going."

He knew Moffitt wasn't doing this to belittle him, or make him feel weak. The choking feeling continued to intensify and Hilfer's face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut. Instinctively, he hugged his knees, and felt hot tears start running down his cheeks. All at once, he began thinking of home. Home that he feared he wasn't going to see again. He could still hear his mother shouting at him and his brother when they were children to get back in the house for dinner and stop tearing around the woods, scaring every deer and fox from there to the Austrian border. They never listened though, and were soon back outside chasing each other. Those were simple days, days when he wasn't worrying about whether or not he was going to survive to the next day, or whether the soldier next to him was going to survive to the next day.

Despite the numerous crushing losses, Hilfer still had complete faith in Dietrich. He liked the captain, and trusted him, even if he found his behavior with the Rats a bit odd at times. While sitting there with Moffitt, Hilfer was beginning to understand that behavior a little more.

Moffitt stayed with him the whole time, and occasionally reached over to pat Hilfer's back. He said nothing, but eventually offered Hilfer a handkerchief. As Hilfer dried his face, Moffitt asked, "Do you feel better?"

Hilfer nodded. "A little. I… Thank you, Sergeant."

"No problem." Moffitt gave him a warm smile. "Alright, what's troubling you?"

"I… told you earlier… that after Dietrich returned from the crystal ball temple, he has refused food. That is why I said he will not want something 'eventually.' No matter what I do, I cannot get him to take care of himself, and… I feel… I feel…" Hilfer couldn't find the right word.

"Useless?"

"Yes! Useless."

"Well, you're not useless. Don't ever convince yourself of that, alright?" A slightly more playful grin crossed Moffitt's face. "Besides, if you were useless, you wouldn't give us such a hard time while you're outrunning our jeeps in Dietrich's car."

Hilfer tried to smile at that.

"Not many of his drivers can do that. Believe me." Moffitt's grin faded. "At least it's over."

Hilfer nodded a little. He dried his eyes again when more tears began welling up. "Sergeant?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you… for listening. I think… I should go back to the captain."

"Give him a little more time. Maybe he'll be in less of a foul mood." Moffitt stood and held out his hand. "Maybe Tully and Hitch can teach you some card tricks, if you ask nicely. Just an idea to keep you occupied."

"Actually…" Hilfer paused.

Moffitt looked at him, waiting for Hilfer to speak.

"Would you be alright telling me what you did at Cambridge? What is it like there?"

A bright smile spread over Moffitt's face. "Why, it's one of the most lovely places in the world. I'd be happy to tell you about it."

Troy was never content to lie around, even while recovering, no matter how many times he was lectured on such behavior. He wasn't sure how long he managed to sleep, but the medics were quite firm in saying he needed to sleep, eat, and drink if he was going to fully recover from being out all night and donating quite a bit of blood on top of that. He was considered a bit of a risk to the camp's medical personnel, having been labelled a "frequent escapee if left unattended." That day, he wasn't sure if it counted as escaping if he was just going a few yards deeper into the infirmary.

He waited until the nurse on duty was preoccupied with something else before getting out of bed, and made his way over to the secluded corner where Dietrich was being kept. It was easy to see that the skinny German was fast asleep. He listened to the susurrations of Dietrich's breath as he slept, taking note of just how quiet the infirmary had to be in order for such sounds to be heard. The smell of highly sterile cleaning fluids dominated all others. Troy started feeling somewhat dizzy again and grabbed a chair from outside the curtain so he didn't pass out for a third time that day.

He could see and feel the vulnerability of the man, his worst enemy. The mass of bandages under the blankets. The translucent tube and needle stuck in Dietrich's arm. The pallor and hollowness of his face. Whatever vigor, pride, and confidence Dietrich usually exuded was completely gone, replaced with a pale skeleton of a man. What had it taken out of Troy to bring him to the hospital? Quite a lot. Literally. Troy glanced at the mark on his arm from where the needle for the emergency direct transfusion had been inserted. He had to bury his animosity, his hatred for the side Dietrich fought for, and even his wanting revenge.

Troy noted that the hanging bottle of Dietrich's latest transfusion was empty. Surely someone would be around to change it or remove it soon. With his focus on the bottle, Troy hadn't noticed the evenness of Dietrich's breath changing, or the captain's eyes opening.

"Am I to assume you want something from me?" Dietrich asked.

Troy looked down at him. "No, not really."

"I overheard that you were weakened from our little ordeal last night, and that you were ordered to rest. This does not look like resting, unless your definition of 'rest' differs from that of normal people."

Troy glared at him. "Why can't you be happy that someone's got the heart to sit with you while you're recovering from ripping your side open?"

Dietrich returned the glare. "You want something. When have you ever actually given a damn about my wellbeing without any sort of strings attached?"

"Not today. I didn't have anything to gain from saving you. I could've left you to die—"

"Maybe that would have been preferable to being stuck here with you, waiting for the inevitable."

"What inevitable?"

"When you ask me about convoy routes, supply lines, troop movements, battle plans—"

"There'll be none of that, Captain. Not anymore. Once you're healed enough, you and Hilfer are going to a POW camp." And we can leave this all behind. Fix things later. Or not. I don't have to meet up with him when the war's over. He'll probably still be bitter over this.

"So some other poor soul can take up my mantle of watching his men be slaughtered by you."

"If that's how you want to put it. Is that it? You're just giving up and accepting that it's over?"

"In case you have not noticed, Sergeant, I have a gaping wound in my right side, or is this a paper cut to you? I am persistent, but not insane. I am willing to concede defeat here."

Troy couldn't help but wonder if he was being led on. At the same time, he had seen first hand how serious Dietrich's wound was. He sighed, figuring it was best he believe Dietrich, then said, "Would you have done the same for me, Captain?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"Because I'm curious."

"Maybe someday, there will be a time when that question can be answered. Right now… I am not sure whether I would do the same for you."

Despite that, Troy couldn't help but feel that Dietrich would have done the same for him, no matter the consequences. It wouldn't be the first time. He turned when he heard someone walking up behind him, and saw the tall, thin frame of Moffitt standing by the curtain separating Dietrich from the rest of the infirmary. Hilfer was behind him.

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting anything?" Moffitt asked.

"No," Troy said.

"You're supposed to be in bed."

Troy glared at him.

"Being serious, Troy," Moffitt said. "Either go back to bed, or get something to eat. The medics will throw a fit if they find you here."

"Fine. Are you coming with me?"

"I can if you'd like me to, but I need to talk to Featherstone about… something."

Moffitt had hesitated a bit on his last word, and Troy wasn't sure he liked that. He let it go, though, knowing that he could trust Moffitt. "Okay. Don't take too long." Troy glanced at Dietrich one last time, then left him and Hilfer alone.

Featherstone had been in the middle of an exciting chess game with Hitch when Moffitt peered into the tent, saying, "I hate to interrupt, Featherstone, but could I speak to you a moment?"

"Sure." Featherstone stood up and followed Moffitt outside. The two went around to the back of the tent, where they sat in the sand and looked out at the empty desert surrounding the camp. "Is something troubling you?" Featherstone asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes, and… I need the advice of an outsider," Moffitt replied.

"Of course. What is it?"

Moffitt drew in a breath. "I don't know what the right course of action is regarding Dietrich and Hilfer is. I may have made a mistake in being friendly with Hilfer, because now I'm more inclined to say that I think he should absolutely be sent to POW camp so no harm comes to him."

Featherstone glanced at Moffitt. He had a feeling that he knew what his taller compatriot was saying, but he wanted to deny it. He wanted so badly to deny it. "What the bloody hell are you trying to say? You want to return both of them to the Jerries?"

"'Want' to, no. I don't, and I know Troy wouldn't want to. However—" Moffitt lowered his voice, "Anah says that at the very least, Dietrich has to be returned."

"Because of the… prophecy."

"Yes. Because of the prophecy. Naturally, she won't explain why, but with everything else we've experienced, I feel like she's right."

"Why, though? If Dietrich is sent to a POW camp, he'll survive and—"

"The problem is that we don't know when or where the prophecy will come true. He has to be returned, and I am willing to assist in that. I know Troy won't be so willing."

"Moffitt, have you gone mad?"

"Maybe. I'm willing to wait until Dietrich is more mobile, but Hilfer is healthy and Command could decide quite soon where to send him, so I need to decide now what to do with him."

"And you think I'm the best person to ask for advice on this?"

"Yes, because you're an outsider. Tully and Hitch won't be able to decide who to side with—me or Troy. Anah says it may be better for Hilfer to go with Dietrich, but… I don't know."

Featherstone sighed. "Well, you've certainly got yourself into a right bloody pickle. How exactly are you getting Dietrich out?"

"The infirmary is going to have a bit of a snake problem. They'll evacuate the tent. Once Dietrich is outside, I'll take him, cover him with a blanket, load him in one of the jeeps, and take off, making it look like I'm going off on patrol. I'll need a second person so it looks less suspicious."

"I thought you were the dedicated snake charmer. Boggs won't let you leave if there's a 'snake problem.'"

"He'll have Anah."

"Troy will have your head if he finds out about this."

"Oh, no, it'll be 'when,' not 'if' with Troy. I'm not too worried about what he'll say. If we send Hilfer back with Dietrich, we'll need to make sure they're not separated."

"You want to drag me into this crazy scheme of yours?"

Moffitt nodded. "If you want to be dragged in."

Featherstone let out another sigh. "Alright, so… your problem is that you don't know whether to let Hilfer be sent to a POW camp, or brought back to German lines with Dietrich."

"That's correct."

Featherstone thought for a moment. He didn't like this one bit, but he also couldn't deny the existence of the prophecy having met a talking magical cobra. "Is there a chance that Hilfer is part of the prophecy?"

"That's a good question. Out of the remaining animals… he could fit the deer. We don't know, though."

"Maybe we should send him back just in case."

Moffitt nodded in agreement. "Alright. That means we'll have to delay him getting sent to a prisoner-of-war camp somehow."

"Do you think he'll agree to this?"

"Only one way to find out."

Hilfer was stunned when he learned Moffitt was conspiring to help Dietrich get back to his own lines. He found himself worried that Moffitt would be hanged for this if someone found out—and was a little dismayed that he couldn't say anything to Dietrich.

"Dietrich won't believe it if we tell him," Moffitt explained. "Can you keep it a secret?"

"I will do my best, Sergeant," Hilfer replied. "Just… why? Why do this?"

"Dietrich has to go back for the prophecy to play out as intended. Trust me, I would rather see you two off to a prisoner-of-war camp, but… this is bigger than us."

"Even though we do not know what it means yet?"

"Precisely. Just remember—say nothing to Dietrich, and absolutely, positively say nothing to Troy."

"He is your friend, though."

"I know."

"If all goes according to plan, this'll be over before you know it," Featherstone said.

Hilfer looked down at the ground, then back up at Moffitt. "This… may seem a bit strange, but… do you not feel this is dishonest?"

"Dishonest in what way?" Moffitt asked.

"Sergeant Troy clearly means something to you. It is why you work so well together." Hilfer found himself wondering why he cared so much about Moffitt and Troy's friendship. At the same time, he recognized it as being not that different to his own friendships back in Dietrich's camp. The kind of close bond that transcended any cultural boundaries. The idea of such a friendship being torn apart didn't sit well with Hilfer, even though he and Moffitt were on opposite sides.

"You know, I was just thinking," Featherstone turned to Hilfer, "how come no one from Dietrich's camp has come looking for you two?"

"With the flood, they may not know where to look," Moffitt said.

"Or… they assumed we were washed away and perished," Hilfer added. "Similar instances have happened before."

"Regardless, Featherstone and I won't be staying long when we drop off you and Dietrich. We don't want to be taken ourselves."

"I suppose this means we will owe you—again."

"Perhaps. Maybe save this one for after the war."

Hilfer nodded a little, and prepared to wait.

Troy didn't want to admit that the next few missions over the last couple of weeks since Dietrich's injury weren't nearly as engaging. It seemed like a silly thing to be thinking about, but he liked that Dietrich gave him and the other Rats a bit of a challenge. The convoys he was going up against now, without Dietrich, seemed so painfully easy that Troy could have conducted them in his sleep.

At the same time, he kept hearing from the medics that Dietrich was steadily regaining strength. Sooner or later, the captain would be on his way to a POW camp. Far away and safe from all this. Maybe things would start to change. Or maybe not.

There was one morning nearly three weeks after Dietrich's injury when Troy had a sense that day was going to be anything but ordinary, and he couldn't pinpoint why. It wasn't the same feeling he had when Moffitt and Featherstone went on their mission to give reports to Major Dandridge, but it was somewhat similar. It started when Troy saw Moffitt wandering around the infirmary, with Anah around his shoulders. The lanky Englishman looked like he was half in a trance of some kind, but he came out of it when he spotted Troy.

"Good morning," Moffitt said.

"'Morning," Troy replied. "Whatcha doing?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just taking a walk. Lovely day, isn't it?"

Troy tilted his head. A feeling of suspicion knotted in his gut. "Just taking a walk, huh."

"Yes. Why not?"

"Is this a new thing you're starting?"

"I suppose it is."

"You're usually still having your tea at this point in the morning."

"I had tea with Hilfer."

"Hilfer." Troy nodded. "You know, you're getting a little too comfy with him, Moffitt."

"So?" Moffitt shrugged. "He'll be going to a POW camp soon, and we won't be enemies anymore. May as well make him comfortable while he's here."

"Comfortable. Does that include reading your dad's books with him?"

"He asked about them. I see no problem with it."

"Okay." Troy nodded again.

"You're acting funny this morning, Troy."

"Me? No, it's you who's acting funny. What're you up to?"

"I'm not up to—" Moffitt stopped dead when the harsh sizzling sound of an Egyptian carpet viper rubbing its scales together broke the relative quiet of the camp.

Troy looked down to see the reddish-brown and white patterned viper near the base of the tent.

"Oh, hello," Moffitt said.

A nurse screamed inside the tent, followed by another yelling, "Snakes! They're everywhere! Get the patients out of here!"

Troy glared at Anah. "What'd you do?"

"I did not do anything," Anah replied. "For once."

Troy looked back at Moffitt. "Well? Aren't you going to go rid the infirmary of snakes?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I'm, uh, on my way now." Moffitt turned and started jogging away.

Troy put his hands on his hips, the suspicious knot in his stomach suddenly tightening. What the hell are you doing, Moffitt? He started following Moffitt, slowly, then lost him as people filed out of the infirmary. Damn it! Troy swore under his breath, and he frantically began searching the crowd for his friend's familiar black beret, goggles, and blue scarf. When he finally saw the beret towering over everyone else, Troy noticed Moffitt was quickly walking with someone covered by a brown blanket. They met up with Featherstone by one of the tents, and disappeared once more.

Troy slunk through the panicked crowd, then broke into a run once he was away from the others. At the end of the row of tents, he saw Featherstone, Moffitt, and their two passengers, covered by blankets, get into a jeep. Featherstone gunned the motor, and Troy made a mad dash to the Rats' tent. "Hitch! Tully! We got a situation!"

"What's wrong, Sarge?" Tully asked.

"Moffitt and Featherstone are going AWOL! Come on!"

The three were soon piled in another jeep and speeding off toward Moffitt. Tully was at the wheel, a matchstick clenched tight in his teeth, with Hitch in the passenger seat, and Troy holding tight to the Browning in the back. What's gotten into you, Moffitt? he thought. And why'd you have to drag Featherstone with you?!

He couldn't tell if anyone in the jeep ahead had taken notice of the fact that they were being followed. Tully's boot was firmly down on the gas pedal, but so was Featherstone's. Troy silently urged Tully to catch up, but he knew the Kentuckian was putting in the most effort he possibly could. It wasn't his fault that the Brits and their mystery passengers had gotten a head start.

The chase continued through mile after mile of open desert. Sweat was running down Troy's face, soaking his tan neckerchief and getting into his goggles. The whole time, he wondered what Moffitt was doing. He had gone on crazy, impromptu quests before, including ones where he disobeyed a direct order, but this was stranger than all the others.

"Tully, stop!" Troy barked.

Tully slammed on the brakes. Just below the hill they were about to crest was a German encampment. Moffitt's jeep was approaching it, and Moffitt himself was waving a white flag as several German soldiers jogged over. An officer, whom Troy recognized as Lieutenant Wintsch, was running after them.

The jeep stopped, and Moffitt got out. Troy raised his binoculars, watching closely as Moffitt spoke to Wintsch. Featherstone took the blankets off their passengers, revealing Dietrich and Hilfer. Hilfer immediately got off the jeep and dashed over to the soldiers gathered. He grabbed one of them in a hug. The group was clearly happy to see him again, taking his cap off and roughly tousling his hair and shaking his hand. Wintsch and Moffitt went over to Dietrich, who moved carefully so as not to aggravate his wound. The lieutenant helped him down, and allowed the captain to lean on him to avoid putting weight on his right side. Dietrich was staring at Moffitt and Featherstone in complete shock, and continued staring when Moffitt held out his hand. Eventually, the skinnier of the two Germans took the Englishman's hand. The lieutenant did as well, with a firmer grip.

Hilfer broke free from his friends to shake Moffitt's hand as well, and watched as Moffitt and Featherstone got back in their jeep to leave. The jeep headed back up the hill, and stopped alongside Troy, Hitch, and Tully. Moffitt looked Troy in the eye, and sighed before saying, "I take it I'm going to get a stern talking-to?"

"Yes, you are," Troy said. He drew in a breath before raising his voice. "What the hell were you thinking?! What possessed you to just pick up Dietrich and Hilfer and dump them back in their own camp?!"

Moffitt hesitated.

"Let me guess: Anah?"

More hesitation, then an embarrassed, "Yes."

"Of course."

"She said Dietrich had to be returned for the prophecy to continue playing out as intended."

"We could've been done with this—done with Dietrich. Instead, your damn snake thinks he needs to be sent back because of this nonsensical prophecy—"

"For the last time, Troy, it's not nonsense!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Troy!" Moffitt raised his voice as well, then closed his eyes as he tried to revert back to a calmer state. He let out his breath. "Please, listen to me. I do not fully understand this either, but too many strange things have happened for me to not think there's something going on. You can't just ignore it and expect it to go away."

"But why Dietrich? That's all I want to know."

"No one knows. Not even Anah."

Troy looked back over in the direction of the German camp, and sighed heavily. "Well, it's over. Things can go… back to normal."

Moffitt took Troy's shoulder. "I really am sorry about this, but this is the hand we've been dealt. I can tell you for certain that Dietrich didn't want this at all."

"No. No, he didn't." Troy looked at the sand. "He was ready to give up. Said it himself."

Moffitt gave him a curious look. "You actually heard him say that?"

"Not those exact words, but he did tell me that being left to die was probably better than being stuck with us."

"He likely said that out of frustration." Moffitt added under his breath, "I hope."

"He was just badly injured," Tully said from the driver's seat of the jeep. "It makes sense that he'd be… not himself."

Something still didn't feel right about the whole thing. Troy looked at Moffitt. Though he wasn't happy about having more questions than answers, he still found it difficult to get too angry with Moffitt. He's still a friend and a damn good teammate. He means well. It might seem like he's gone nuts, but… somehow I can tell he hasn't. He's serious about this prophecy crap. "Alright. What're we telling Boggs?"

Moffitt thought for a moment. "Dietrich and Hilfer took advantage of the carpet viper chaos to steal a jeep. The five of us went after them, but couldn't catch them before they reached the German camp."

"Sounds good to me," Troy said. He glanced back toward the German camp again, then turned to get in his jeep. "Alright. I think that's enough excitement for one day. Let's shake it."

Hilfer stood outside Dietrich's tent, watching the sunset. It felt good to be home—well, as close to "home" as he was going to get. He wouldn't deny that he missed the Rats, strange as that seemed. Moffitt especially had so many fascinating stories to tell, and Hilfer knew there were many he didn't get a chance to hear. Maybe another day, he thought.

He looked into the captain's tent. Dietrich had just had his bandage changed by the camp doctors, and was lying in his cot, asleep. There was no doubt he would be off-duty for a little while, but Hilfer still expected Dietrich to have at least tried to disobey the doctors' orders throughout the day. Instead, he slept, like he was told.

With nothing to do, Hilfer went to his own tent to change into clean clothing for the night. As he took off his tunic, he felt something in one of the pockets. He frowned, unable to remember if he had put something in there and forgot about it. He opened the pocket, and pulled out a bag of Assam tea. I did not put that there. So… who did? It didn't take him long to form a guess. A goodbye present from Moffitt? Hilfer admitted that was nice, but he also knew it was just going to make it harder to fight the Rats.

He gave a quiet sigh, turning the tea bag over in his hands. At any other point in time, this just would have been a kind, simple gesture between friends, and he looked forward to the day when they truly could be friends.