Chapter 6
Numbers
The endless thunder of the Northern Front had faded away into a distant rumble where the 19th Platoon of the 3rd Battalion of the 87th Stormtrooper Brigade had been stationed. The camp was a small city of dull green fabric structures, each marked with the white, winged snowflake, the symbol of the stormtroopers. The camp was nestled in a clearing in a small wooded valley between a pair of large mountain peaks, as the western branch of the Claws of the Clouds loomed behind them. Before the war, the valley would have been a scene of picturesque alpine beauty, but now much of the forest was blackened and burned, and scarred with scattered craters where Burn's catapults had struck.
Beneath a midday sun, Winter lounged in the snow under a large canopy that rustled lightly in the early winter winds. Their first day at the camp had brought a sprinkling of snow, which painted the lands around them a pleasant white.
"Rise and shine, Princess!" Winter looked up at the sound of an amused voice just before getting thwacked lightly by a rigid IceWing tail.
"Hey!" Winter stumbled to his feet, feigning a glare at the offending IceWing, "What was that for?"
Frost smiled wryly at him, then beckoned with a wave of her wing, "Come on, Flurry snuck out and caught an elk while the officers weren't paying attention, and now Tempest and Puffin are searing it in our barracks!"
Winter smiled at the thought of cooked meat instead of the usual rations, and he followed Frost as she turned and made her way back toward their barracks. As he walked along, he passed numerous IceWing soldiers, enlisted and officers alike, who enjoyed their brief respite lounging in the snow, eating, or just milling about and chatting with their friends. Despite the distance from the frontlines, however, the war loomed everpresent and all the IceWings still wore their leathers. For most, it was like a second skin at this point and they hardly noticed.
Burn's vicious offensive that had broken against the IceWing lines for the better part of the autumn season was finally winding down as winter began in earnest in the northern corner of the continent. In the twenty years of stalemate along the Northern Front, each side had fallen into a steady rhythm. The summer and fall months were Burn's playground. When the air was warm and the sun hung high in the sky, the SkyWings pushed hard, but when winter brought its freezing fury, the IceWings came with it, pushing back ferociously toward the stronghold. It was the transition period that the soldiers dying for Burn and Blaze longed for, however. The transition period where one side's offensives ended and the others' began meant a brief respite from fighting as the initiative shifted with the seasons.
The trenches were split into a multilayered web, with frontline trenches reinforced with numerous support trenches and redoubts. It was this web of trenches that was responsible for the endless grinding stalemate on the northern front, as for the most part, only the first few trenches changed hands before the offense lost steam, and the defense could fortify their new positions and further entrench themselves.
In Blaze's trenches, there was a rotational system in place. IceWings spent time in the frontline trenches and then were rotated to the backline for rest and respite. They were then assigned to trenches gradually closer to the frontline before taking their turn at the front once again.
The scent of seared meeting filled Winter's nose as he slipped through the fabric flap of the barracks tent, following Frost inside. At the center of the room, the IceWings had started a small fire, with smoke escaping through a small hole at the top of the tent. A large elk carcass was spun slowly on a spit above the fire, with a pan below to catch the slipping juices. Tempest and Puffin were gathered around the fire intently, focusing on their work, while Wolf sat further away, twirling an unlit cigarette in his talons. Flurry was in his sand bed, curled up with his tail over his nose as he slept.
"Smells like heaven in here," Frost exclaimed brightly, smiling happily at the meat, "Almost like being home!"
"It's almost done," Tempest grinned, looking pleased, "Princess, why don't you wake our friend."
"Great hunting!" Winter agreed, waking the slumbering IceWing with a smack of his tail. Flurry awoke with a yelp, reaching wild-eyed for his needler before looking up and recognizing Winter's smiling face.
"You royal bastard," Flurry snapped his jaws half-heartedly in Winter's direction, clambering to his feet.
"Too slow," Winter jeered playfully, swishing his tail, "The food is ready, time to wake up."
"I couldn't find any bowls," Tempest said, looking up from the elk, "Helmets off if you wanna eat!"
Winter sat down on his haunches as the group gathered around the fire, sliding their helmets carefully off their horned heads. The holes in the domed helmets made them less than ideal bowls, but if held at an angle they would make do, and by this point, Winter was more than used to making do.
They all held their helmets out as Tempest gently picked up the juice pan in his talons and distributed it evenly between the six of them. As his share poured into his helmet, Winter smiled happily as the scent of meat stew and spice filled his nose. Without waiting for the others, he eagerly drank at the stew, finishing it before Tempest had even begun divvying up the meat. As he drank, Winter vaguely remembered that back home this behavior would have earned him scorn. Strange how far away that felt now.
"Alright time for the protein!" Tempest called out as the IceWings all devoured their stew. Winter waited eagerly while the others finished as Tempest and Puffin began carefully slicing the carcass with their bayonets. Portions were handed out evenly and once again the IceWings dug in. There was no talking in the barracks as each dragon eagerly filled their hungry bellies.
Winter tossed the spare bones into the fire as Flurry burped next to him, laying down from his haunches to his belly to rest and digest their big lunch. Winter and Flurry had been the first to finish, but the others followed soon after.
"Cheers to Flurry for an excellent hunt, and to Puffin and Tempest for being great cooks!" Frost said happily, tossing her spare bones into the fire. Each dragon gave their appreciation to the hunter and cooks as they all began laying down around the fire, except Frost.
"Come on you walruses," she batted at Tempest with her wings where he lay next to her, "Outside! We're finally somewhere that doesn't smell like rotting meat, let's not waste it!"
The IceWing frowned as the others gave grumbles in response, "Come on, stop lazing around like a bunch of lame RainWings! Up! Up! Up!" Frost trotted around and thwacked at them with her wings and tail, "Outside!"
Winter dodged her tail as she swiped at his nose, then clambered slowly to his feet, reluctantly following her outside. The snow sat sparkling on the ground in a thin layer of pleasantness, and the wind was still, leaving the valley smelling of cedar.
"This is as far as I'm going," Wolf grumbled, flopping his scarred bulk into a snowbank outside the tent, "You dragonets have too much energy in your young bones."
"You're a real grouch aren't you," Puffin teased his older friend playfully, "You're such a whiner, you old fool, I dunno why they made you Sergeant instead of me or one the others."
"The others are gone," Wolf pointed out, not moving from where he lay in the snow, "And you've got more seal bits in your teeth than brains in your head."
Puffin spluttered curses at his friend, turning and peeling his lips up to try and pick meat from his teeth with a claw. Nevertheless, he slumped down into the snow next to Wolf as the others gathered around. Winter laid down between Frost and Flurry, filling his helmet with snow to scrub out the remaining juices before sliding it back onto his head. With a happy sigh, Winter slid down into the snow, enjoying the way it slid under his leathers and between the scales of his underbelly. His aches, wounds, and pains all faded as he closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose as he curled his tail around to lay on it.
"And just who do you think you're winking at?" Tempest teased Frost, causing Winter to open his eyes and look up.
Turning his long neck to look around, he saw the smaller IceWing looking rather embarrassed. Flurry smiled mischievously at her, "Come on, Frost, now you gotta tell."
"Fine," Frost feigned annoyance and exasperation, though a proud smile tried to fight through, "You see that IceWing over there, the one from 8th Platoon?"
Winter followed her eyes to see a group of IceWings gathered around the latrines, just before the treeline where the forest met the camp. Two of them carried buckets of water in their jaws back and forth from the nearby river, while the others engaged in the thankless duty of latrine cleaning. There were two females and three males, but none of the males looked striking, especially when covered in muck and worse as they worked.
"Chasing mates at the latrines," Flurry teased, eyes widened in amusement, "Looking at you I would've never thought you'd be quite this hopeless."
"Laugh all you want," Frost tipped her head into the air sarcastically, "But I don't see you getting anyone."
"Oh please," Flurry tipped his head sideways, "How many tents did I shake at the Fort again?"
"You're like a desperate animal," Frost said snootily tipping her chin even higher, "Cracking anyone who would have you? No class at all. I'm sure our Princess could teach you a thing or two about class."
Winter looked at them with widened eyes as they both turned to look at him. After a moment of confusion, he said, "I'm sorry, what?"
"How many pretty little royals have you cracked, Princess?" Frost said in a teasing voice, though Winter only gave her a blank look in return.
"We don't fight at the palace," Winter said after a moment, thinking back to a place in his life that now felt so distant it was almost a dream, "You'd lose ranks for that. Not unless it was for training, of course."
"Fighting!" Tempest gave a big laugh, falling onto his side into the snow as he laughed harder, "By the Great Ice Dragon they don't teach you royals much do they."
Winter frowned at the cackling IceWing as the other dragons in the group all looked at him. He flared his wings, "Yea, yea, so funny the royal doesn't know anything. What's the joke?"
"You seal-brain," Flurry couldn't help laughing too, "They're talking about mating."
Winter rolled his eyes, earning more laughter from the others. There had been a few little cultural differences between Winter and his new friends since they had met at the Fort. At first, they had been nervous but as they got more comfortable, it increasingly became a joke that would be brought up many times later. Winter knew it would take him a long time to live this one down.
"Okay but no more jokes, how many royals got rattled by our pretty Princess," Tempest teased, unable to hide a smile, "Or maybe it was our Princess getting rattled?"
Winter shook his head, "I have no idea what you peasant types do out in the winter wastes," Winter laughed, dodging a playful swat from Frost's tail, "At the palace, we don't do anything like that. Mating is for the purpose of producing worthy heirs only. None of this barbaric nonsense that you lot engage in."
"Prude," Tempest teased, "That's just another way of saying you get no play."
"I don't think I've ever been interested in doing anything like that," Winter answered honestly, ignoring his friends' amused faces, "Life at the palace was so, I don't know, chaotic is a good way of describing it. And then the shock of the Fort and everything. I've never really given it much thought."
"Sure," Flurry teased, "That's what they all say."
"Anyway," Tempest interjected before Winter could retort, "Ignoring our sad little Princess, what I want to know is what helpless dragon has caught our Frost's eye."
"I told you," Frost arched her neck, "That one over there in 8th Platoon."
They eyed them for a minute, and then Flurry commented, "You know Frost we have got to raise your standards. I could mistake any of those three for belugas if I wasn't looking."
"Not the males you idiot," Frost reached her wing over Winter to poke at Flurry, "That one," she turned and caught Tempest's surprised expression before he could hide it, and sneered playfully, "Wow, both of you? You guys tease Princess for being a moron, but you two are just as clueless as he is!"
Winter shifted his gaze to the IceWing female carrying a bucket of water deftly in her jaws. Even from a distance away and beneath leathers and a helmet, Winter could tell she was pretty. Her scales were a bluer color than most IceWings, and her eyes were big and wide.
"Oh what, the SeaWing?" Tempest spluttered, trying to save face.
"Please," Frost grinned nastily at her friend, and Winter could tell she had won, "By the three moons, you know you would too."
Tempest ducked his head back into his talons and didn't respond. Flurry smiled affectionately at Frost and said honestly, "She's very pretty, Frost. I didn't know that was your taste. I always figured you were…"
"Go ahead, finish that sentence," Frost teased harmlessly, batting at Flurry with her wing and forcing Winter to duck, "I'm as much of a top as you are you big lump."
"Anyone else have any surprises?" Flurry tried to save himself by changing the subject, "You secretly like big MudWing males, Puffin?"
The older IceWing looked up from where he was smoking with Wolf and gave an amused grin, "Sorry to disappoint you, it's IceWing females for me. My parents might have introduced me to the continent but I'm afraid my tastes are still local."
"You've got a mate," Flurry pointed at Wolf, then Winter, "Princess is hopeless. What about you, big preyhunter?"
"I've always wanted to try with a SeaWing," Tempest smiled wistfully, "All those pretty blue scales that light up. Too bad we're enemies, they're so pretty."
"Wow," Frost's face split into a wide, predatory smile as Tempest looked up quickly, realizing his mistake, "You're projecting on me! You treasonous little snow fox!"
"No, I-"
But it was too late as Winter ducked and Frost leaped over him to pounce on the large IceWing, quickly wrestling him onto his back. She pinned him easily, though Winter knew the big preyhunter had let it happen. Physical humor and interaction had been one of the things he had learned from his new friends at the Fort.
Frost climbed off of Tempest rolled back over onto his underbelly and Frost made her way back around Winter to her place in the snow. She flicked her tail quietly for a moment, watching 8th Platoon work, then asked, "If you had to mate with a dragon from another tribe, which one would you pick?"
Puffin opened his mouth to respond but Frost shot him a glare and said, "And no cop-outs."
Puffin ducked his head and closed his mouth as Winter turned the question over in his head. As he thought about it, a sudden memory slipped into his head, and he frowned, not liking the treasonous answer that had come to mind. He could not imagine being with a dragon from another tribe; none of them were as amazing as IceWings after all. But that one, he frowned more deeply, definitely not that one.
"SeaWing," Tempest said immediately, "I dunno, there's just something about them."
"You've never even seen a SeaWing," Puffin laughed, shaking his neck with a rattle of spikes.
"I've seen the scrolls," Tempest huffed, "And I like blue."
"Fair enough," Frost gave a laugh, "What about you Flurry?"
"Any and all," the big preyhunter laughed confidently, "I'll have lived once I've been with someone from each."
"You're gonna have a lot of dragonets to raise once you're done," Winter pointed out, poking the boastful IceWing with a talon.
Flurry arched a brow at Winter looking amused, "By the three moons Princess, do they teach you guys anything? I haven't fathered any yet, I'll have you know, eggs aren't easy to make. That and my pull-out game is crazy."
Flurry had clearly added the last part as a boast, but Winter had no idea what it meant. He decided not to ask though, not wanting to lean further into the whole Winter doesn't know anything trope. Looking around, Winter turned to see Wolf roll his eyes, shake his head, and mutter condescendingly to himself, "Dragonets."
"That's a cheap answer, you wild rabbit," Frost poked Flurry with her tail, "You have to pick one."
Flurry tossed his head to the side and paused to think, then said, "SandWing, I think. Yeah if I met a cute SandWing with those dark eyes and natural warmth…" the IceWing started swaying side to side as he began singing, "Smack that, all on the floor… Smack that, give me some more… Smack that, til you get sore… Smack that oh oh oh…"
"You guys are disgusting," Winter snorted, eyeing Flurry and Frost who had joined in after the first verse. Neither looked particularly concerned, on the contrary, they both looked rather pleased with themselves.
"Well I'm not a mating fiend like those two," Tempest commented poking fun at his friends, "But Flurry's on to something, I think. It's IceWings for me, but I wouldn't mind a little hamlet between the Ice and Sand Kingdoms, somewhere down by the coast where there's warm and cold for both of us…"
"Awww how sweet," Frost said patronizingly grinning at Tempest, "He's thought about this."
"Oh shut up, you're the one who asked," Tempest snorted, smiling as his tail swished side to side in the snow.
"You should try one of Blaze's auxiliaries," Puffin suggested with a laugh, "You might actually have a chance."
"No, he wouldn't," Wolf growled, spitting his smoldering cigarette into the snow where it winked out with a hiss, "You've never met Blaze's entourage, have you?"
"No?" Puffin replied, tipping his head at the scarred sergeant, "What're you getting at?"
"We'll meet them eventually," Wolf said cryptically, curling his tail around his talons, "You'll see what I mean."
"Alright grumpy, what's your answer?" Frost pointed a talon at the large IceWing.
"My mate," Wolf turned away and lay back down into the snow, speaking again as the little IceWing opened her mouth to pry more, "Don't bother, little dragonet, that's the most you're going to get from me."
"Fine, you grumpy old walrus," Frost turned her head to Wolf's friend, "Puffin?"
"I honestly can't say I've ever been romantically drawn to the other tribes," Puffin responded, then sighed as he caught Frost's accusing glare, "Ugh, fine, a MudWing, but only because I love their music."
Puffin's face split into a happy smile, "When this is all over, I'm going to be a musician! I'll travel around the continent to learn every tribe's songs!"
"There's a catch in that plan, isn't there?" Wolf growls as Puffin looks up in confusion. The older IceWing held a stick in his talons and drew lines aimlessly in the snow.
"And what's that?" Puffin snorted, annoyed.
"You'll never sing as they do back home, not with what all this smoke has done to us," Wolf growled coldly as Winter gave him a searching look.
Puffin's face looked stricken and hurt, "You always have to point out such nonsense. It doesn't help, does it?"
Wolf didn't look at the other IceWings, instead stabbing the stick deep into the snow and then climbing back to his feet, "This place is meant to placate us, but listen hard, and you won't forget what we are."
"Grumpy old bastard," Puffin snarled under his breath as Wolf stomped off to report to the officers since the sun now showed midday, "Why does he always have to be like that? Can't he just be happy for once?"
The dragons all fell silent as Wolf stalked off in the direction of the command tent to get their afternoon assignments. Winter frowned as the jubilant feelings from spending time with his friends faded a little. Winter curled his talons in the snow as he listened to the endless rumbling in the distance. Shaking his head, he lay himself all the way down in the snow, closing his eyes and trying not to think about it.
oOoOo
It was in the evening later that week, after Winter and his platoon finished their afternoon assignment of washing leathers, that the news broke. Winter and his friends walked behind Wolf, each carrying a pile of soaking wet leathers on their backs. They made their way over to the southern side of the camp, where a number of thin wires hung between wooden posts. Carefully, the IceWings draped the leathers over the lines where they could dry and then be retrieved in the morning by the dragons they belonged. Washing the whole battalion's leathers was no easy task, and it had taken all afternoon with many trips back and forth, but at last, they were finally done.
Winter moved spryly, stretching his wings wide and rolling out all of his muscles. Wash days, despite the work, were always pleasant because it meant that he got to spend an evening without his leathers on. All across the camp, the dragons were enjoying their newfound freedom of movement, as each moved as if they were just a little bit lighter. It was a bittersweet time, however, as the washing of the leathers signaled the imminent return to return to the front.
Wolf looked up suddenly as a non-commissioned officer came rushing towards him, waving a news scroll eagerly. Winter recognized him as the sergeant responsible for the 15th Platoon, with whom they sometimes drilled. Wolf arched a brow and asked, "What is it, Sergeant Seal?"
"News from the continent!" Sergeant Seal exclaimed, wings flared wide in unconcealed excitement, "The Dragonets of Destiny have been seen!"
Winter felt a shock in his chest like an avalanche slamming into him and was too surprised to see the equally shocked look on Wolf's face. As Winter got a hold of himself, he thought he saw a look of hope on the rugged old IceWing's face for the first time since he had met him.
"Give me that," Wolf snatched the scroll from Seal's talons as the other IceWing bounded off to spread the news. Wolf stared at it blankly for a moment then shoved it into Winter's talons, demanding, "Read it."
Winter scanned the short article quickly, feelings of nervous hope and fearful worry battling for control in his mind. Once done, he passed it to Frost and summarized, "The Dragonets of Destiny have been seen in the Sky Kingdom, and have been taken prisoner by Queen Scarlet."
"Are they in the arena?!" Frost interrupted, voice higher than usual and tight with fear, "Will they fight Scarlet's monster?!"
"If that vile abomination kills the Dragonets of Destiny I'll slaughter their whole tribe myself," Tempest growled angrily, gnashing his teeth and swishing his tail in agitation.
"It doesn't say!" Winter jumped in before anyone else could speak, "We don't know anything else!"
"Maybe they're choosing Burn," Puffin grumbled pessimistically, "I mean, I might too if I were them, she's held the throne for almost twenty years already."
"We don't know that," Winter looked up, surprised to hear Wolf speaking with hope in his voice, "And if they did… well who cares the war would be over. Why do I care which prissy slug sits on the desert throne?"
The group fell silent at that as they made their way back into their barracks. Winter shoved through the fabric tent flap, following behind Wolf as they made their way inside. He felt a strange sense of genuine happiness and lightness as he settled into his sand bed. A night without the leathers and the news of the Dragonets was just enough to forget their imminent return to the front.
As he flopped down onto his underbelly and rested his tail beneath his chin, it occurred to him to realize that he was placing a lot of faith in a NightWing Prophecy. Just a few short months ago, he would have dismissed it as nonsense conjured to muddy the war's waters from the lying jaws of the IceWings' ancient and mysterious enemy. Just like all the other aristocrats, Winter had believed that the Prophecy was merely a distraction for the weak, and that the war would be won through equal parts honor and effort. Now, though, well Winter would jump at anything if it meant an end to this.
"Wolf?" Frost asked as the old IceWing put out the candles lighting their tent, "Do you believe in the Prophecy?"
Winter's gaze shifted to the scarred IceWing's darkened form as dipped his snout in thought. After a moment, Wolf responded slowly, "You know, it's funny, if you'd asked me that this morning I would've told you it's nonsense. Now, well, I don't know what to think. I don't believe in destiny, or fate, or any of that. But if the Dragonets are actually real… well who knows?"
"You don't believe in the Great Ice Dragon?" Flurry asked curiously, shifting in the darkness with a soft rustle.
"No," Wolf laughed lightly, drawing more of Winter's curiosity, "No, even though the emissaries from the palace tried to drill the beliefs into my little hamlet, it never really stuck for me, and that was before coming here. Now… well I'm beyond certain that the Great Ice Dragon, the Spirits in the Sky, the nonsense that Blaze's loyalists spout, all of it is false."
"Why?" Flurry asked again, curiosity evident in his voice, before adding quickly, "If you don't mind me asking."
Wolf gave a long laugh, then an affectionate smile in the darkness, "Don't worry, dragonet, there's nothing you could ask that would hurt me," he gave a long sigh that ended with a series of hacking coughs.
Catching his breath after a moment, Wolf growled, "I know that all of the tribes' gods and beliefs are false because no god would ever allow this. No benevolent, all-powerful being would ever allow this much suffering," Wolf shifted with another sigh, "Hear this, dragonets, and take of it as you will. There are no gods, and if there are, they're as bloodthirsty as they are wicked, and they deserve none of your love and praise. Save your love for dragons that are actually worthy of it."
The whole tent fell silent at that as they each turned the thoughts over in their heads. Winter himself wasn't sure exactly what to make of it. Religion was never particularly prominent at the IceWing Palace, and he had never heard of the Spirits in the Sky, or whatever it was that Wolf had said about the SandWings. He had never spent much thought on religion, as he had always been too preoccupied with life at the palace. Now, though, he had to admit that the news of the Prophecy had brought him hope, NightWing nonsense or not. Sure, maybe it was all false like Wolf seemed to think, but what if it wasn't? As he lay in the darkness of the tent, Winter realized that he couldn't help hoping. Thoughts and memories of the frontline were headly tightly locked away in the back corners of his mind, but if the Prophecy meant that he would never have to be plunged into that hellscape again, then he would take it.
oOoOo
The dawn arrived too quickly for Winter's liking. Never in his life had he dreaded the rising sun quite as much as did now. Leaving Fort Windward, he had been too clueless to be scared, and on the front, he had been too numb. Now, though, the thought of leaving this picturesque little valley where the biggest concern was who would be assigned to clean the latrines, was a dreadful nightmare.
Stepping out into the new day, Winter found that it had snowed again during the night, and once more the valley was covered in a layer of soft and sparkly snow up to his underbelly. The dragons of the 3rd Battalion moved in dread and silence as they retrieved their leathers from the line where Winter's platoon had hung them the day before. Afterward, Winter and his friends returned to their tent one last time to retrieve their equipment, sliding it back into their leathers, and then finally departed.
Wolf led the platoon as they drifted into formation within the battalion to make the journey back to the front. It was a silent flight as each dragon remained in their own head, thinking their own thoughts. The wind was blowing northwest today, and with it came the familiar smell of rot and decay that signaled their return to the frontlines.
Winter felt his hopes sinking lower into his stomach as the line of smoke grew on the horizon and the booming and pounding rumbles of artillery grew louder. Burn was shelling the eastern side of the lines today, Winter noticed as he gazed out to the left side of the formation. As they drew closer, he could make out the flashes of flame and dirt where the dragonflame shells landed in the muck. He could sometimes see sparks of silvery white in those flashes and quickly looked away.
"3rd Battalion!" the Captain's call carried through the formation, "Time to make landfall! I won't have any ballista-bait in my formation today!"
Moving as one, the formation folded in on itself into an elongated rectangle three dragons wide as the IceWings settled down carefully onto the worn and muddy path, clear of snow from the many dragons that walked it.
"Eyes open, stormtroopers!" the Captain called again, "Burn's gotten better at finding and mining our trails, I don't want to add any ornaments to these trees today! Understood?!"
"Yes, Captain," Winter and the rest of the battalion chanted dutifully.
The walk to the frontline, much like the flight, was silent. Winter kept his head down and mouth closed as he tried to ignore the worsening scents and the way the smoke began to eat away at his throat. His time at the camp had not helped his sensitivity to such things.
Winter's head snapped up suddenly as his ears pricked beneath his helmet. Looking up in sudden alarm, he heard a familiar whistling sound as tight claws of terror closed around his heart.
"Everyone down!" the Captain bellowed from the front of the column as the IceWing soldiers dropped to their underbellies and ducked their heads under their wings to try to protect themselves. Winter heard the whistling grow louder and clenched his jaw waiting for the inevitable boom, but it did not come. Winter heard a series of thuds in the forest off to his left, followed by an ominous hissing sound. Winter's eyes widened as the realization dawned on him.
"Gas! Gas! Gas!" Wolf beat the Captain to it as Winter scrambled for his gas mask, seizing it in his talons from where it dangled on his left shoulder.
"Masks on!" the Captain shouted quickly from the front of the column as Winter ducked his head and slid the strap over his helmet and horns, feeling the rubber squeeze and seal tightly against his scales. His vision was limited to the two glass circles over his eyes and his breathing became more strained as he sucked air through the two filters at the end of his snout.
Winter felt a chill as he realized that the wind was still blowing from the east, and as he looked into the trees to his left, he saw a sickly cloud of yellow and green driftly towards them. He hurriedly squeezed the straps tight to seal the mask in the place before the gas got to them.
"Princess!" Winter whipped back around as he heard a desperate cry to his. Turning, he saw Flurry looking at him with a terrified expression. In his talons, he held a gas mask with a broken strap. Winter's stomach turned with horror as he wracked his mind for a solution.
"Shove it on!" Winter demanded, seizing the mask in his talons and shoving it onto the larger IceWing's head with a quick shove just as the gas began to drift around them like some awful eldritch monster. He leaped his front half onto Tempest's shoulder and used both of his talons to keep the gas mask sealed in place.
"Keep shoving your head forward!" Winter ordered as he pulled back on the straps, "It'll keep it sealed! Guys!"
Ahead of him, the rest of the platoon turned around and saw their plight. Shoving passed other IceWings as the column stood nervously in place, Winter's friends hurried back to help him.
"It's slipping!" Flurry cried in desperate terror, voice muffled by the gas mask.
"It's not!" Winter shouted back as his friends gathered around them. Quickly, he explained, "It's sealed but we can't move like this!"
"Move!" Frost demanded, shouldering Tempest and Wolf aside to slide up next to Winter. Her talons slipped quickly into her medical kit, and removing a thin metal rod.
"Keep your head down," Frost ordered, shoving Flurry's head towards the dirt, but keeping Winter from following with a shove of her leathered wings. Turning to Winter and gesturing at the straps in his talons, "Keep that slack! I'm going to tie a tourniquet. It'll keep the mask tighter in place than a knot."
Winter nodded and followed Frost's movements, making sure to keep the tension as tight as possible. Finally, he slowly let go as Frost finished her last twist, securing the mask tightly in place. She peaked down at Frost and asked nervously, "Is it sealed?"
The larger IceWing let out a long sigh of relief which rasped noisely through his gas mask, "It's a little tight, but it's on. Thanks, guys."
Frost swatted Flurry's flank with her tail with a muffled laugh, "Move along you big lump."
Winter looked up and realzied that the formation was still stopped, and the Captain was making his way back along the column checking for casualties. The Captain eyed the tourniquet around Flurry's head, then asked Wolf, "Everything okay, Sergeant Wolf?"
"Equipment malfunction," Wolf said in a relieved voice, masked head hanging low, "But the little dragonets were able to get a handle on it. No casualties."
"A relief," the Captain bowed his head and muttered something unintelligible before he continued down the line.
Winter's heart was still pounding his head as the gas hung still around them, turning everything a tinge of sickly yellow. He looked over and saw that Flurry was panting and looking at the ground, clearly rattled. Winter brushed his friend gently with his wing and the other IceWing looked up at him.
It was strange looking at his friends with their gas masks on. He already felt like he knew these dragons better than he knew his own family, but with the gas masks on they might as well be strangers. More nameless numbers to be fed to the war's endless hunger, Winter thought gloomily, suddenly a little more conscious of the necklace and tag that hung around his neck, beneath his leathers. He felt like Winter, but here he was number 10989361 and nothing more.
After a moment, the Captain returned to the front of the column and they began marching once more. Luck was against them, it seemed, as the wind had chosen that exact moment to die down. The air hung heavy with the gas, and made Winter's scales itch. He knew not to scratch though. The IceWings had been briefed chlorine gas at the Fort, and he knew that as long as he kept his mask on, he would be okay and his scales would take care of themselves.
The column was silent as the march continued once more, and Winter hardly noticed as the platoons in front of them seemed to stumble over something on the ground. Winter looked up as the dragons ahead of him parted like the sea around fresh glacier.
The IceWing was lying on her side, a gas mask clutched tightly in her talons. She was curled up as if she had died coughing, and the white scales around her mouth were tinged in deep blue, mixed with small chunks of pink. Winter felt a twinge of recognition as he stepped passed her.
With a start, Winter realized that she was the IceWing from 8th Platoon that Frost had spent a few nights with while they were at the camp. He looked back at his friend in concern, but he could make out nothing behind her grey leather gas mask. She was an emotionless automaton, just like they were all meant to be. Another number.
Frost paused for just a moment over the fallen IceWing's body as her friends all turned to look at her. Without a word, the smaller IceWing reached out with her talons and seized the fallen dragon's gas mask and pulled it from her tightly coiled talons with a rough yank. Frost tossed it at Flurry, who caught it deftly in his talons. Without a word or movement, Frost stepped over the IceWing's body and merged fluidly back into the formation. Winter and his friends followed her before they could stall the march, and the dead IceWing was left behind.
The formation of grey was rigid and emotionless as they marched towards the rumbling booms of an artificial storm. Beneath their helmets, leathers, and masks, any semblance of individuality was gone. As the trees thinned and opened up into the long muddy stretch that was the Northern Front, it was a machine of grey that emerged from the thinning yellow fog. Looking out over mangled mess of trenches, barbed wire, and death, Winter understood Wolf's words. He knew in his heart there could be no hell, because he was already there.