Rannok rubbed the surface of the catch-card with his thumb. The embossed surface caught the light, and he squinted at it while he watched everyone else’s face around the table. Gabriel had his eyes down in his own cards, while a couple of the older guardsmen seemed to be barely paying attention to their hand. The light of the outdoor fire flickered on their faces, until they were nearly unreadable.

“Blue circle,” Gabriel said. He flicked the surface of the card before he tossed it down into the pile. That meant Rannok had to get a green triangle or better, but there wasn’t one in his hand, so he swore under his breath a little.

“Pass.”

He picked another card up out of the deck. The man to his left had long, silvery hair and a pair of wings the same color, like they’d faded with age. He grunted and put two cards down in the pile. Green triangles, both of them. Gabriel threw the rest of his cards down in a heap. Rannok dug a couple silver ingots out of his pocket and handed them off to the older man, a disappointed look on his face.

“I’m out of money.”

The rest of the group stopped what they were doing. Gabriel picked up a new hand of cards.

“We just started, you should stick around a little bit longer than two hands in, don’t you think?”

“I need to get something to eat,” Rannok responded. And his eyes were heavy, too. It was hard to get used to this sort of life. Sleeping some nights and not others, then sometimes sleeping during the day meant he was tired nearly all the time, and he hated it. Tonight was unusual in that he had time to do something that wasn’t sleeping or eating.

He leaned on the edge of the table to stand up. His ribcage ached in protest, but not nearly as bad as it had the week before. He let out a deep breath before he placed his cards back down in the pile and straightened out to walk out to the center of the guard tents.

Tents sprung up every few hundred yards like plants around a river. Rannok slid past them, lit only by the faint glow of lanterns, and lifted the flap to the cavernous dinner tent. Everything was eerily quiet as he stepped inside. Even at this hour there was usually at least someone around. The cauldron holding today's portion of stew still sat over a slowly dying fire.

Rannok grabbed a wooden bowl and ladled some of the broth into it. He inhaled the steam across the top. It definitely smelled better than he knew it would taste, but for now it would do. He grabbed a cushion near the corner of the tent and dipped a spoon into the bowl. The scum congealed across the surface wrinkled, and Rannok wrinkled his nose.

Muffled voices came from the other side of the tent wall and Rannok turned his head. Someone was arguing. He leaned his head into the canvas and Aegan's voice reached his ear.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on him," it said. Rannok looked around to make sure there was no one around to see him. There would be hell to pay if someone caught him listening in on one of Aegan's conversations.

"I did," another voice came from the other end of the tent. "He won't do it again. He'll find something to make up for it."

"That's not good enough, Griffon. First he goes kicking people and now he's disappearing when he's supposed to be keeping watch. You need to get control of him yesterday. If there's any more issues I'll dump him right where we are."

"No!" The voice sounded panicked. Rannok froze. He could hear them drawing closer to the edge of the tent, and he leaned in to listen, hoping nobody would notice his shadow on the other side. He still owed Armand for having kicked him in the ribs.

"No what?" Aegan said.

"I'll take care of it. I'll make sure he does watch. Just please, don't--"

"That's what you said last time. This is your last chance, Griffon! No more night watch and no more screwups. We can't afford to lose any more supplies. Do you understand me?"

There was a long, protracted sigh.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get out of my tent."

Footsteps made their way away and around the side of the divider. Rannok leaned his head forward into his bowl and pretended not to have heard. He spooned the soup into his mouth and swallowed rapidly. Griffon flipped the tent flap open and ducked inside.

"No flight training tonight. We'll push off to tomorrow," he said. Rannok looked up from his bowl and tried to look like he hadn't been paying any attention.

"Oh, yeah," Rannok replied. He'd actually forgotten about that anyway. He stirred the soup with the spoon and looked over at Griffon. He tried not to show off his glee at the news. Armand was on watch. He doubted anything Griffon said to him was going to have any effect. Now was his chance to follow him to wherever it was he snuck off to. Rannok really wasn’t in much shape to fly yet anyway.

"Go get some sleep," Griffon said, his voice rough and angry, like sandpaper as he jerked his head toward the tent flap. The blood vessels of his eyes stood out against a yellow backdrop. Rannok worried he might punch a wall at any moment. He nearly fell over himself scrambling to get out of the way.

Rannok fell into step toward his tent. Outside people were starting to turn in for the night. The fires burned low and the smell of soot and burned wood filled the air. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't sure why Armand taking off was such a big deal, anyway. He didn't do anything. Mostly he just watched the supply wagon overnight to make sure nothing got stolen. No one went near them even with no guards posted. Everyone knew it was busy work meant to keep new employees and people who were too old to still perform well from quitting their jobs. Them and Armand.

Speaking of, now that the sun was down, he'd be out here soon. Rannok ducked behind a supply box, curled his wings up, and waited. Soon enough Armand arrived. He paced around the supplies a few times, sighed, and flopped down beside a box. He took a whetstone out of his pocket and started running it down his sword.

It must have been awfully boring watching the supplies all night. It served him right though, for being such an asshole. Rannok still wasn't sure what exactly he'd done to draw Armand's ire, although he wasn't about to ask, either.

Another hour went by and Rannok felt his eyelids getting heavy. He'd just about drifted off when Armand shuffled to his feet and said 'Hey' to someone Rannok couldn't see. He turned to peek over the edge of the boxes to see who was coming.

The figure pulled the cloak off her head and smiled at him. Rannok recognized Wren’s face, and would have anywhere. He sank back and hoped to the crows she wouldn’t notice his breathing.

She took a seat beside him and he handed her a whetstone. She pulled a dagger out of her cloak and began to sharpen it. Rannok shook his head. If things were still the same as they had been when they were younger, Wren didn't know how to use a dagger, only those cheap throwing knives her parents gave her as a kid. He doubted they would have let her have one anyway.

"So how much trouble did you get in for stealing me this?" Wren asked. Armand reached over and took the whetstone and dagger from her.

"Like this," he said. He worked the stone down the blade a few times to show her. "You're going to ruin the blade if you do it like that."

Wren folded her arms at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Not a lot," he said quickly. Rannok smirked. Aegan was going to love this. He wasn't leaving the stuff unsupervised. He was stealing it. Stealing it and giving it to Wren. But then again...

If he tattled on Armand, Wren was going to get into trouble. He didn't want that. All he could ever think about was the way she looked at him when he'd left her there that day. He let out a sigh and shook his head. He'd have to find another way to use this information.

"You're lying," she said.

"Actually, no one's noticed it's missing," Armand responded. "They probably won't."

"Right. Just like you said you wouldn't the last time," Wren replied.

"Just sharpen the dagger," Armand said. She pushed his shoulder and he laughed but there was no more conversation for Rannok to listen in on.

After a while the warmth of his night cloak and the late hour started to make his eyelids feel heavy. He inhaled the warm scent of wood and leather and settled into a position where he'd be a little more comfortable.

He blinked, and the next thing he knew light streamed in from a crack in the canvas of the supply tent. Rannok's heart jumped into his throat. He pulled himself to his feet and peeked through the canvas. A deep sigh escaped his lungs. No one was around. He ducked out and walked toward breakfast while praying no one saw which direction he came from.

Breakfast was still quiet when he arrived. Only Gabriel and a few other people milled around when he stepped into the tent. Someone fried chunks of meat over an open fire and Rannok's mouth watered.

"Where were you last night?" Gabriel asked as Rannok ducked into the tent. He had a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Nowhere," Rannok answered quickly. His palms started to sweat and he fumbled with a skewer trying to get his share of meat out of the pan.

“Nowhere. Interesting," Gabriel said. “Were you supposed to be working?

“No. I was--” Rannok's face flushed. He turned toward Gabriel, who laughed in his face and loaded up his own bowl with chunks of meat.

"I really am not interested in hearing, so please don’t tell me, Rannok. Just don’t take off when you’re supposed to be working, it makes Aegan mad.”

Rannok mumbled something under his breath and walked with his bowl back toward his sleeping tent. Maybe if he tried he could get some extra shuteye before anyone came looking for him.