Hazel pressed her lips against her son’s forehead. “Let go. I have you. You’re going to be okay.”

  Fletcher gave one last strained breath, and then his eyes fluttered closed. He passed out. Finally.

  She sat up, keenly aware of everyone in camp staring at her after such an intimate moment.

  “Ibara, do what you can for him. Since everyone’s already awake, we might as well get an early start. The sooner we get into position, the better,” Hazel said as she stood up. She took one last glance at Fletcher’s pale, sallow face. It was clear he’d lost weight since she’d last seen him before officer training, but that was only one of the obvious issues going on with him even aside from his injuries from Kirred’s “interrogation” of her.

  The others moved to follow her orders immediately. It was important she kept her authority. She couldn’t allow her worries for Fletcher to interrupt the mission. The grand finale, the reason for all of it, was yet to come, and with it, she’d get her revenge on Kirred for daring to touch a single hair on her son’s head.

  Sergeant Ibara busied himself with caring for Fletcher. Now that the wial’os was out of his system, they could give him something for the fever which would hopefully buy them enough time to get him back to Finnack where proper medical care waited. As much as she hated to drag Fletcher’s vulnerable body around longer in the cold weather, there was no way around it without jeopardizing the mission. There was only one way out of this god-forsaken hole, and it was the plane they all had to be on after Kirred’s assassination. Fletcher would just have to hold out until then.

  Hazel undid the braid she slept in and worked on pulling it back into a bun, ensuring her hair was as well placed as it could be while camping. This reminded her of her early days with the military, when she first partnered up with Sebastian on assignments that would drag them into the wilderness for weeks at a time. Pleasant memories, even if they were during a war.

  Breakfast was eaten and camp cleaned up within thirty minutes of her giving the order. Ibara carried Fletcher and Captain Naeku carried Teller. She was too good of a martial artist for them to allow her use of her legs, even if that would have been more efficient.

  Hazel had learned of Teller’s betrayal months ago, back when she received the USB from W’al’iw, courtesy of Fletcher and his unique gifts. After that it had taken careful planning for weeks on end, working only with those she trusted the most to determine how best to use their mole to their advantage.

  Of course it was unfortunate that their best plan involved allowing one of their bases to be attacked without the chance to warn those who would be in danger, but the lives lost were all part of war. There was no way around it if Hazel was going to properly capitalize on Teller’s betrayal for the good of the Mixed.

  It was one of those things that she might have lost sleep over when she was young. But too many decades of fighting against the atrocities of the Unhumans had dulled her, and she could no longer afford to care so much for individuals when the good of the world was at stake.

  The way she saw it, she hadn’t known for sure which base they would attack, so it wasn’t entirely on her head. Regardless, people died, that was part of the fight, and she learned to accept that a very long time ago.

  They hiked through the purple trees all morning. Fletcher’s dog—whatever possessed him to adopt the fleabag was beyond her—remained faithfully near his master, trailing only a step behind whoever was carrying him. She hid her smile every time Simpson had to carry Fletcher and he failed to shoo the dog away. Perhaps there was some good in keeping Backup around after all.

  They arrived at the hillside by early afternoon. Teller had a certain recognition and hate in her eyes that confirmed their plan was going to work. Hazel issued orders, though they were mainly remainders of duties since everyone was already well versed in what to do in this scenario after she ran through the new plan last night.

  Teller and Fletcher were both taken to a preselected cave, far from the danger and on the path to the airplane that the others would follow. Sergeant Johnston stayed with them to guard Teller. Backup stayed with her as well, much to her delight. From there, Hazel took Captain Naeku with her to their ambush site while Sosa, Ibara, and Simpson took up various positions to protect them after their strike.

  Hazel prepped her sniper rifle, a weapon she’d favored for much of her life despite not getting many chances to use it since becoming a general. Naeku remained close and on guard, watching for their target. She would be the one to take the shot. She wanted to be the one to end Kirred’s life after everything he’d done against the Mixed. Her desire for revenge was fueled even more by the memory of her son tied up and tortured. Silently, she cursed Fletcher for disobeying orders for something as meaningless as another soldier, but she couldn’t change what happened.

  Now that they were settled in, all that was left to do was wait.

  Well over an hour passed, longer than she originally planned to wait since they started earlier than they first planned due to Fletcher. Always, that boy managed to disrupt her plans.

  “They’re coming,” Naeku said quietly.

  Hazel shuffled forward, keeping low to the ground as she got her rifle into position. It was now or never. She watched just outside the bushes which covered them. Slowly, the Unhumans came into sight, those that were left after their various attacks. As she expected, Kirred was with them, the [Ogre] issuing all kinds of orders. Clearly he was unhappy with how this all played out, especially given they “miraculously” avoided the second ambush they laid out for Hazel and her team the day prior.

  As Kirred came into the center of her view, Hazel put her eye to the scope and took aim. She would only get one shot, and given how tough [Ogres] were, it would have to be perfect. Fortunately, Hazel was perfection in Human-[Slyph] form. It wouldn’t be a problem.

  She centered his head in the scope, keeping her motions smooth as she followed along with his steps. Holding her breath, she pulled the trigger.

  The shot ripped through the air, and then Kirred was down, green [Ogre] blood splattering across the scene. The mission was complete. She wasn’t so vain as to need to gloat about her victory over him. He was dead, and that was all she needed.

  As expected, chaos broke out among the remaining Unhumans with their commander dead. The others were already on it, firing shots into their enemies while Hazel took aim again, taking out whoever she could with her rifle.

  Once the Unhumans were in sufficient disarray, she scooted back, putting her rifle over shoulder.

  “That’s enough. Let’s get to the plane and get out of here before they call for help,” she said into her radio.

  “Roger that, General. We’ll meet you at the checkpoint,” Simpson promised.

  Hazel stood up with Naeku by her side. She set the pace, jogging out of the bushes and towards their meeting place with the others back at the cave. They were about halfway there when something flashed in the corner of her eye.

  “Take cover,” she called out, but Captain Naeku had seen it too. She dove behind a tree, and he dashed into a bush as three Unhuman soldiers popped out of the woods.

  “Find her and kill her,” the lead [Gnome] said, a man with baby blue skin that was maybe half of Hazel’s height.

  He had a [Dryad] with him, a woman whose skin was composed of the same black bark surrounding them with yellow vines for hair. She was more intimidating at over ten feet tall.

  Rounding out the trio was an [Orc], a woman with burnt orange skin, tusks sticking several inches out of her mouth, and a bald head. Tattoos covered her skin, representing her [Skills] and their levels. She was a [Magical] species, which meant she was Hazel’s first target. It was better to eliminate those that had access to the most dangerous [Skills], and in her opinion, those were always the [Magical] types.

  Hazel swung her gun off her back and took aim once again. She wasn’t as careful as she’d been with Kirred, but she didn’t need to be for an [Orc]. One bullet later, the Unhuman was down. The [Gnome] and [Dryad] yelled, heading towards her position, so she switched to her pistol as Naeku took out the [Gnome], leaving only the ten foot tall plant woman to deal with.

  Rolling to the side as the [Dryad] reached her position, Hazel unloaded several bullets into the [Dryad’s] body. From behind, Naeku added his own shots, and she was dead before she even had the chance to shoot her own weapon.

  “We should move faster,” Hazel said. “I want to be on the plane ASAP.”

  “Yes, General,” Naeku confirmed.

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  They sprinted off back on their original path, arriving at the cave within a few minutes. Johnston waited there with Teller, the dog, and Fletcher.

  “Move it. Plane ASAP,” Naeku said simply as he jogged up to Teller and tossed her over his shoulder.

  Simpson, Ibara, and Sosa weren’t far behind. They arrived and Ibara picked up Fletcher’s limp body without waiting for the order.

  “Let’s go.” Hazel finished switching her sniper out for something more manageable for the rest of their journey while Simpson led the way out of the cave. Luck was with them, and they didn’t run into any more trouble the rest of the way. They soon arrived at the beaten down dirt road they’d turned into a makeshift runway for this mission. It was where the supplies for their various campsites had been delivered weeks prior, and then it'd been part of Naeku’s job to see to it that all the sites were set up well ahead of time.

  But the mission was finished. Commander Kirred, an eternal thorn in the Mixed’s side was dead and the traitor in their ranks was apprehended, giving them some much needed breathing room.

  The plane already waited there. Simpson was first on board, followed closely by Hazel. The head of the flight team came to greet her while the others jogged up the ramp.

  “Everything’s set for takeoff as soon as you give us the all clear, General,” Colonel Whitmer said.

  “Everyone’s here. Let’s get out of here,” Hazel said.

  “What about the dog?” Sergeant Johnston asked from behind.

  She glanced back to see Backup pacing before the ramp, refusing to come up into the aircraft.

  “Leave the fleabag behind. It’s just a dog,” Simpson said.

  “No,” Hazel corrected him. “Do you have a tranquilizer, Colonel?”

  Whitmer blinked in surprise, her brown eyes concerned. “Uh, yeah. We should.”

  “Good. Get it, fast. Johnston, get that dog up here. We’ll knock it out for the flight,” Hazel declared.

  “You’re bringing the dog with us?” Simpson said. “General, come on. It’s a dog.”

  “Yes, Major. The dog is coming with us.”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m assuming you have a reason for it.”

  “I always do,” Hazel reminded him.

  Johnston went down to Backup and scooped him up before he could run away, hauling the dog into the plane. Whitmer returned with their tranquilizer kit, and Ibara took charge of getting Backup properly dosed. Soon the dog was sleeping soundly, resting close to where Fletcher lay as the plane engines started up. It was time to go home.

  Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Finnack was a long way away, and even flying, it was going to be a lengthy trip. Once they finished take off and achieved cruising altitude, Ibara was out of his seat and kneeling next to Fletcher, taking his temperature and pulse.

  Hazel undid her seatbelt and went to sit by him.

  “How is he?” she asked quietly, staring at her son’s colorless face.

  “Honestly, not great, General. His fever still hasn’t broken, and despite my efforts, the infection is progressing. His original injuries were bad enough, but hypothermia and dirty water was a cherry on top that might prove too much, especially given he wasn’t in the best of condition before this mess.” Ibara gently slid an oxygen mask on his face.

  Hazel brushed a few strands of blond hair from Fletcher’s sweaty forehead. “I know. Do what you can.”

  “I’ll give it my best, but the only thing that will save him is getting him back to Finnack in time,” Ibara admitted. “Obviously it’ll be too late for [Heal] at this point, but they’ll still have much better medical equipment to help him out.”

  She nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Sergeant.”

  “Ma’am.” He stood up and stepped away.

  Hazel stayed near Fletcher, allowing herself to feel just a little sorrow for a moment. Her son, her baby boy, lying half dead, and she was unable to do anything to save him. His fate was in hands higher than hers, though she’d never really believed in such things. This entire situation reminded her far too much of one she experienced more than two decades ago, one of the darkest moments in her life, and she did not wish to repeat it.

  She held in a sigh as Major Simpson came to crouch next to her.

  “He’s a good kid, General. He’ll pull through,” the man said.

  “I know.”

  Several beats of silence passed as Hazel stared at Fletcher and adjusted the oxygen mask he now wore.

  “Was there something else, Major?” she asked, noticing that the man continued to linger when she thought she’d made it quite clear she was not looking for outside comfort. She was strong enough to handle this without her team giving her false assurances under the name of emotional support.

  “He tries to hide it, but Fletcher cares about your opinion of him, a lot more than he’d like to admit,” Simpson continued at last.

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.” She added an extra edge to her tone, warning him from pressing this issue.

  “You could stand to throw him a bone once in a while, General. I think the occasional assurance from you he’s doing a good job would mean the world to him.”

  Hazel turned to him with an icy stare. “I don’t need parenting tips from you, Simpson.” Who was Simpson to tell her how to bond with her son? She’d already tried to compliment Fletcher, and he’d nearly lost his mind. Clearly, he was not looking for her approval.

  “He asked me how much prison time he was going to get for what happened at Vesi,” the man replied flatly.

  She hesitated for a moment. “A reasonable question.”

  “‘Reasonable?’ General, come on. You read the reports. The kid is a hero, and he can’t see one bit of that since he’s so wrapped up in your perception of him,” he scoffed.

  “I am more than capable of handling my children, Major. Now unless you have something else to discuss, this conversation is over.” Hazel turned away with finality.

  “Yes, General. Sorry to disturb you.” Simpson walked away, leaving her with Fletcher in peace.

  She waited near him for a few minutes longer, but her knees grew tired of kneeling on the metal floor. Giving him one last look, Hazel returned to her original seat and stretched her arms and legs. As much as she hated to admit it, her age might be catching up to her. Normally she could handle a few days outside without issue, but she felt it this time around. There was a reason generals didn’t go out on missions like this, but this assignment was unique in needing her touch. Without her for bait, it never would have worked.

  A smile nearly touched Hazel’s lips as she stretched, remembering recent conversations with Sebastian about age. He struggled even more than her given he was fully Human. Even at twelve-percent [Sylph], it was enough to make a difference in how she felt in her mid-fifties compared to a regular Human.

  After a thorough stretching, Hazel sat down and glanced across the bay. Everyone else was in their own little worlds, which was fine by her. She preferred some time alone after so many days crowded into a place as small as Vesi and then stuck in camp with everyone.

  The hours passed slowly. She did sleep for as much as she could, but it was difficult with the uncomfortable seats and so much of her mind caught up on Fletcher. Not only was she concerned about his physical state, but even the few interactions she’d had with him proved his mental state was in as bad or worse condition. War was hell, she knew that first hand. But Fletcher was too gentle of a soul to properly handle those kinds of experiences, and without warning too. It was going to be a long road to recovery all around, and she wanted to do what she could to assist him in it.

  Eventually the plane began its descent. They were back to Finnack. As everyone prepared to disembark, Hazel called Johnston over.

  “Yes, ma’am?” the woman asked.

  “I want you to handle the dog when we land. Take him to the vet for a thorough check up, and then I want him sent to training,” Hazel explained.

  Johnston nodded. “Of course.” She glanced at Ibara hunched over Fletcher. “Basic pet training won’t be more than a couple of days. Who’s going to watch him after? You, General?”

  “Deities, no.” Hazel laughed. “Colonel Anders will no doubt happily watch the dog for Fletcher, but after pet training, I want him to go to service training, for PTSD specialization.”

  The Sergeant made a knowing face. “I see. A good call, General. I think he’ll need it.”

  “I’d prefer if you could be discreet about it,” Hazel added.

  “Yes, General. It stays between us,” Johnston promised.

  “Thank you.”

  Johnston saluted and then walked over to where Backup waited. As the plane ramp opened, she scooped the dog up and was first off the plane. Ibara was close behind with Fletcher in his arms, rushing to meet the medical crew waiting for them.

  Hazel watched them go, her heart begging her to go with them, but she had other duties first. Gathering her things, she issued some more orders and then deplaned, heading inside the base. She took the time for a long shower and then ate a good meal before looking over the work that built up while she was away.

  Nothing was too pressing, so she decided that it could wait while she checked on Fletcher. There wasn’t anything she could do for him, but she hoped enough time passed by now that the doctor could give her a full evaluation of Fletcher and his odds of survival. And then she was going to properly rest before dealing with any uncomfortable conversations with Sebastian or Nora about Fletcher.

  As she went to the hospital, Hazel’s mind churned back over the memories of watching Fletcher scream as they tortured him, right before her eyes. The yearning to do something, to make it stop had been so strong she’d nearly given in, but she knew help was coming. It was with a doubt one of the most difficult things she’d ever been forced to do, and it was one of the few moments that made her question her loyalty to the Mixed in favor of her family. Not that she doubted her loyalty now, but intense situations could bring up uncomfortable emotions and thoughts.

  Hazel spoke to the front desk attendant and was taken to a room in the ICU. She sighed upon entering and discovering Sebastian already there. It appeared she was going to be forced to have one uncomfortable conversation already.

  He turned to her with more anger in his face than she’d seen in years, perhaps ever.

  “Hazel, do you want to explain to me what on earth you’ve done to my son?”

  quite as heartless as Fletcher thinks...