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[aut_nihil]

The daemons take up resources that sometimes the group just doesn't have to spare, it makes the hunger greater. So the dogs are the first thing to go. Everything the dogs could do, Pope tells them, the daemons will do instead.

Even though it means greater risk to each person, orders are orders.

He's fair, though. He sends Elidi out to scout ahead for his boys and girls, he sends her into the fray when there's a battle near enough to base to warrant it. He is still on the ground, he insists, even if as the commander he has to be kept apart from the fray.

Elidi can travel farther from him than the other daemons do. This is because their bond has been tested and strained and tortured into something that can withstand the pain and the brain fog, and he insists he's going to train the rest of them to do it, too. Just as soon as they have a place stable enough to hold.

A place like the camp Elidi comes back and reports on, so he calls his leaders in to discuss. "It's not big but they've got walls. Thoughts?"

Comments

[aut_nihil]

"You hear that?" He holds up a hand for Carver to be silent, to just listen.

Austin is laughing outside. There are the sounds of a camp in motion, the smell of food being roasted over a fire.

"That's the sound of a happy camp. Not a complacent one though, right?"

[fortitudosalutis]

There's a moment where Carver almost smiles - almost, before he checks himself and pulls on his black mask. Eyes ahead. They still have rules, even if they don't salute anymore.

"No, sir. We got people up on the walls, checking the perimeter. Shaw found some gunpowder, she's trying to figure out if it's still good."

He inclines his head slightly. "We got the space for more drills now. Everybody did good this morning. Austin still likes the pistol better, if you can believe that shit, but he'll shoot with a bow if he needs to."

[aut_nihil]

It makes Pope smile, a fond little expression, one he tends to only have after he's vented some of his sadism elsewhere. "Austin likes the pistol," he echoes, and shakes his head. "We'll make an archer of him yet. He just needs to get some good kills in with it, see he can be as bloody as he wants with those arrows. Put him and Bossie together on patrols, take them out to find some scavengers when Austin's got the aim down."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver nods slowly. Inwardly, he worries, though. They're going out again this soon? "Sure. How far you want them to range?"

Not too far, he hopes.

[aut_nihil]

He settles down, sharpening a knife. "Just a couple of miles before the snow hits. Far enough to find a target, get some shots in. Not so far they can't get back here in a hurry if we need 'em. I want live targets, the rotters don't count."

[fortitudosalutis]

Some of the tension lifts. Okay. They can work with that.

"I'll send 'em out," Carver agrees. Bossie's a good scout, he'll keep Austin focused. "Tell 'em to look for medicine, too. This place is flat out. They had a bottle of iodine. That's it."

[aut_nihil]

They have some leftover from the last place they raided, but precious little is left. Pope nods, thinking it all over. "And you will keep running the drills here."

Carver did well today with them, he'll see if that keeps going. "The most dangerous part of having walls is people get lazy. Get bored," a derisive sound that's not quite a scoff and not quite a laugh. "Our people are not going to fall apart because they think there's not enough to do."

[fortitudosalutis]

Part of Carver would rather go out on patrol, help the others scavenge because they will need to scavenge shit to make this place work. They’ve got good stores and plenty of water, but they’ll need firewood—so much goddamn firewood—and medicine, tools to fix shit when it breaks. And they don’t have a lot of time before the weather really starts to turn.

All that on top of drills. But Pope’s right. They can’t get complacent. They can’t risk that like other camps do. Like this place did. Letting their people fall asleep on watch—it’s shameful.

“No, sir,” Carver agrees. “I’ll put them through drills.”

And their brothers and sisters will run them happily.

“But, maybe we can do shorter watches?” he tries. “If we fix the wall, reinforce the gate, we could let people sleep longer. Come back stronger when they’re off on patrol.”

[aut_nihil]

Pope grunts as he thinks about that. They've been on the road a long time, and many of them are sleep deprived. Not that it matters; they can run just fine on no sleep. He's seen to that. He's trained them for it.

"We'll do that for now," he allows. "But come winter we'll do sleep dep drills. I don't want anyone falling apart because they got too used to taking naps."

[fortitudosalutis]

God, he hates the sleep deprivation training. It scares him, sometimes, the things he hears when he has to stay up for that long. The things that creep up from the corners. Silas’s ears flatten but she doesn’t growl or complain. Neither of them ever will.

“Yes, sir,” he agrees. Pope’s right, of course. They need to be strong, and ready for anything.

Sila’s ears stay flat.

[aut_nihil]

Elidi watches Carver, watches Sila.

He goes back to sharpening his knife. "How's Turner doing? No showboating today?"

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver keeps his back perfectly straight. They don't salute anymore, but there are still rules. There are always going to be rules. Those rules keep the world where it ought to be.

"He's good," Carver agrees. He doesn't say that Turner was hurting, that maybe - maybe - Pope went too hard on him. You don't say that shit. "Whip-sharp. He always shapes up."

[aut_nihil]

"That he does," and Pope sounds satisfied with that answer. No need for a second lesson. No one in their right mind would want to bring a second lesson on their head.

"The bodies all strung up?"

[fortitudosalutis]

"Yeah."

All but the kids, though he doesn't say that part. They buried the kids in a mass grave out in the trees. There weren't many this time. He's quietly grateful for that, and he never wants to think about it again.

He hesitates, though. There's another factor. Maybe related to the bodies, maybe not. He doesn't know. Neither do the others. Mancea was always closer to Pope than any of them. He used to be Pope's second, but now he isn't. And sometimes he talks to God so much he forgets to eat.

"You mind if I pull Mancea in for more drills?" he asks finally. "For the technical shit. He was telling me about some maneuvers I think we could adapt."

Maybe they don't need to send Mancea out on patrol as much. Given everything.

[aut_nihil]

Pope looks at him, first in surprise and then in quiet appraisal.

"Mancea is going to be our chaplain. God has chosen him to lead us spiritually," except for when it contradicts the things God tells Pope to do. "He'll mostly be making up his own mind on what he wants to share these days. If he wants to revisit maneuvers, that's his business."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver knows he's on thin ice even voicing this shit, the questions it could beg that he knows better than to provoke Pope into asking. Because if they're going easy on Mancea, are they going easy on anyone else?

But it's different, he thinks. Mancea's done his time. Mancea was solid as hell for years and now he's -

Yeah.

"We could use a chaplain," Carver agrees. Somebody for the guys to talk to, even if what Mancea says back doesn't always make sense. "Think there's a room out back we could clear out for him. I'll put Deaver and Boone on it once they're done with the wall."

Maybe it doesn't need to be complicated. They can just delegate. Make sure everyone has a job.

[aut_nihil]

"When we start foraging around here he'll head up the team. You'll go with... Make sure he doesn't wander off too far." As Mancea has done twice now, though no one is aware of it but Pope and Carver and Shaw.

Mancea is not a loose end, not something to be cut off to save the whole. Yet.

[fortitudosalutis]

“Okay,” Carver agrees, though part of him worries at how many separate tasks they’re all being given. They got a good meal last might and now they’re going straight back to work, no pausing—shifting into an up-tempo, even. And Pope’s talking about putting them through sleep deprivation training too.

But it’s for their own good. They have to be ready for anything. They can’t get complacent. And so, he’ll just have to keep an eye on Mancea, too.

“Least he never picks the wrong mushrooms,” Carver adds, smiling a little at the memory. Boone only made that mistake once, but half of them were tripping balls before the rest realized. It wasn’t exactly a fun time, but at least nobody ended up shot.

[aut_nihil]

It's been just long enough that Pope doesn't bristle at the memory. He chuckles instead and looks up at Carver over the rim of his glasses. "That," the whole fiasco, "Is what my daddy called a learning experience. Boone is one of our best foragers now, isn't he? Won't make that mistake twice."

[fortitudosalutis]

“One of our best,” Carver agrees. At the time, even high off his gourd, he’d wondered—just for a moment—if Pope would kill Boone for that one. Do worse than just test him. And it’d been a brutal test after that.

Only for a moment, though. And it worked out for the best. They got smarter for it. Boone never made that mistake again. None of them ever will.

“You taught us how to survive here,” he adds, meeting Pope’s gaze. “Sir. I didn’t know shit before I met you and Shaw.”

[aut_nihil]

"I'm tired of losing people." He sets the knife down, sets the whetstone close by. "I was tired of it back in Afghanistan. We may not be able to control everything in our lives, but I will by God not lose my people to stupidity."

If he has to break things in his people, it's only so they set and grow back stronger. Boone is stronger now. He even started smiling and laughing with the others again after a few weeks. That's the sort of tough that can survive in this world. Pope has seen men and women crumble into pieces over less.

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver nods solemnly. This, he understands. There’s nothing but a razor edge between them and the dead now. They have to walk it carefully. “You won’t. We won’t let you down.”

Not when they’ve come far, fought so hard.

“Whatever you need me to do, it’s done.” He meets Pope’s eye again. “You know that, right?”

[aut_nihil]

"That I do know." He claps a hand to Carver's shoulder. "Do you worry I don't see all the ways you fight and suffer for our people? Because I do. I see every time you bleed for us. Elidi sees it all, even when I'm not there."

On her perch, the great bird stretches her wings and tucks them back again, silent.

[fortitudosalutis]

It’s rare that Pope touches him in affection. Usually, it hurts. It almost hurts now, in an aching sort of way, but Carver presses into it, watching Pope even as Sila comes closer. Ears pricked forward. They did good, didn’t they?

“I know,” Carver agrees, though his throat is tight. It’s a blessing. Isn’t it? There’s always someone watching. “I don’t regret any of it, sir.”

[aut_nihil]

He knows his praise can keep any one of his sons and daughters going for miles. He doles it out carefully though, and only when it's really, truly been earned.

He's seen Carver fail before. But this? This was a victory. So he smiles at him and chuckles. "No, and you shouldn't. You've climbed out of hell and come out stronger, haven't you? Yes, son, I made you to prevail."