This was where Shark paused in their rambling recollection of events as they were relayed to an attentive Cerid. “I must be boring you, or creeping you out,” they laughed. “You certainly didn’t ask to hear my tragic backstory.” It was different talking to someone who knew battle. They’d never even told Dorothea all of this because there was a part of her that would just never understand.

Cerid was glancing around, and Shark was starting to wonder what the heck was so interesting when they were the only ones in the area. Naturally, they’d sought out somewhere private to discuss these things, edging them slightly towards Springen’s more isolated farmlands. A nicely secluded wooded area separated this area from the populated parts of the fort. They were about to tease him about what he possibly thought might happen when, suddenly, Cerid’s arms were around their neck.

It wasn’t the first time, but it felt like things had changed. In shock, Shark dropped what remained of their lunch into the dirt. Hadn’t Cerid been the one to ban physical contact between them? But they weren’t stupid enough to point that out and ruin the moment. It took a lot of effort to hug him back loosely instead of constricting his back and pulling his slim form closer.

The almost sweet scent of his hair. His quick heartbeat, like a bird ramming against the bars of its cage. Shark memorized these things because they knew they could never hope for more than this.

“I am sorry. None of that should have ever happened to you,” Cerid whispered. Then he tore away almost violently, casting about fearful glances. His composure returned once he had again established that it was just the two of them. His cheeks, already red, flushed further when he noticed Shark’s lost lunch. “Oh, my apologies…”

“No, don’t be. Thanks. For that.” Shark’s heart was in their throat, and the words came out strained.

Cerid brushed himself off. “I...enjoyed your story.” He frowned. “No, it was not enjoyable. It was quite sad. No, it is more that… Hm. I am… I like coming to understand more about you.” He blushed and narrowed his eyes. “That is, understanding more about the motivations of one in your position. And…” He offered a nervous smile. “It is not just me who has shared themselves now. At least a bit.”

He. Was. So. Cute. “Hey, as long as one of us is having a good time.” Shark laughed, not trying to hide their ample relief and appreciation. “Still, you probably don’t need to hear too much more about my experiences. You’ve been there too. You understand what war is like.” Cerid was younger, but not by much. He’d seen the worst of it too, no doubt.

“Of course, but I only get in the way. I am quite useless, as you know. Though I am making efforts to change that, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But you were on the front lines, with that magic of yours. An early deployment atop everything else…” He tutted with sympathy. “I wish to hear more of your perspective.”

Shark frowned. Cerid really didn’t like himself, did he? “You’re not useless,” they said seriously. “You brought me and Thea here, right?”

And now he just looked miserable. “I did,” he murmured.

Oh, come on. Shark sighed and reached out, putting their pointer fingers just beneath the corners of either side of Cerid’s mouth. “Smile, you’ll feel better!” they laughed, pushing upwards. As Cerid’s eyes widened and his blush spread to his ears, a new litany of unbidden thoughts sprung to Shark’s mind. Of course, they had the sense to talk themself down from what was destined to be nothing more than a passing attraction. The whole thing seemed ridiculous if they thought about it like that. The deserter and the noble, just think of it. “Dunno who’s blushing harder, you or me,” they muttered, dropping their hands.

“Apologies. Did I mishear you?”

“Nope.” Shark turned them around, back towards civilization and people. They wouldn’t do anything else rash that way.

Their whole life, it seemed, they’d always been punished for doing things rashly, for acting out. But wasn’t it the adults who were in the wrong here? When wasn’t it rash to plunge the land into war?

Back then, as a thirteen-year-old, the scale of battle had seemed immeasurable. It felt like constantly drowning. In two waves of raging factions, opposed bodies trying to devour and surface above one another, Shark had thought it impossible to survive the ravenous tide. It all came back in vivid flashes, it always did. In the middle of the day, in dreams, a worm lodged and wiggling just behind their eyes.

There was no time to stop in battle. Just when Shark killed one enemy, they would stumble into another struggle. The worst was to trip over a corpse, to land in the gutted flesh that was the remains of a battlefield’s multitude of small encounters. It had gotten all over Shark’s face, once, in a hard fall over a mess of bodies, filling their nose and mouth and drying crusted between their eyelashes by the end of a long day.

It was as if an enemy always knew when there was someone off balance. If Shark ever let fear or horror paralyze, killing blows would fly down from what felt like all directions. Dismemberment, pulpy, unidentifiable remains, soldiers accidentally taking the life of their allies in the chaos and praying that no one had seen. Would they be forgiven? Could their souls handle that weight? Each and every one of them breathing it all in at the conclusion, the guilt at being grateful for living, wondering if one might be lucky enough to feel that guilt again, to live, if only to live.

The seasons raged at one another, ceaseless. Some parts of it were almost beautiful in Shark’s dreams. They remembered, always remembered, an assault during the night, watching flame and water and wind and earth and ice and snow crashing against a black sky, smoldering trees that bent and shuddered like mirages. The faraway stars like heavenly spears ready to hail down in furious arcs, punishment for war’s crime upon the earth. Would it all melt, they’d wondered, extinguishing and falling around them?

“I still wonder sometimes,” Shark said softly, “if the land might take its vengeance and swallow us all up. For what we’re doing to it.”

They and Cerid now stood still in a world of their own, waiting for Ariana and Dorothea in the designated meeting place. It was only one street over from the Olyen’s shop. Shark felt nauseous at the mere thought of their nearness, the ones who hadn’t wanted them as they were.

But Cerid’s voice made them feel warm and steady. “Everything you have said today. I thank you for telling me. And I hope… I wish to be just as honest with you someday.”

His sincerity made their heart skip a beat. “No time like the present, buddy.”

Cerid’s eyes widened, then he looked at his feet and spoke quietly. “I am jealous of you, and I cannot seem to stop myself,” he admitted. “You had those years away from Sacer. If I could have those same years free of expectation, then maybe I…” He shook his head. “I apologize. That was an inexcusable thing to say.” His brows were furrowed, and he looked angry and sad and just so hopeless.

“What would you do? With that time.” With that chance to know and live for yourself.

Cerid pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Best not to speak of it,” he said coldly.

Shark laughed, understanding now that this was Cerid’s way of protecting himself. “The more I think I’m understanding about you, the deeper things seem to get, buddy.”

“If you wish to understand anything, I will be happy to explain. That is what words are for.” He averted his eyes again. “And… On that note, despite what my recent actions might imply, it would be best for you not to touch me casually, yes.”

“What if I touch you seriously?” Shark said this with no hint of joking whatsoever.

Cerid’s face went blank. “Er. What?”

“As opposed to casually.”

He flushed from his neck to his ears. “Y-You are so, so… incorrigible.”

“That’s what I’ve been told. In less kind words, but you know.”

Cerid sighed. “I suppose you cannot be helped then. Regardless, I have appreciated your company.”

“Music to my ears, buddy.” They glanced past Cerid and saw the boy’s fellow guard striding towards them. Ariana’s arms hardly moved when she walked, and her shoulders and back were held stiff, this rigid posture making her look watchful and hunted. It almost made Shark feel sorry for her.

That is, until they realized Dorothea wasn’t with her.