Page 48 of Keeping a Warrior

With a snort, Rhys typed, And here I am...just a ninja reject.

He could just feel Devon’s laughter through the phone. Poor baby. Stop pouting and get over here!

I would, but I don’t think I’m gonna desert my men quite yet. I’ll let you know.

After exchanging good-nights, Rhys turned his phone off to conserve what little power was left and shoved it in the cargo pocket of his pants. He stacked his hands under his head and closed his eyes, grimacing as his back protested the cold, damp ground. Thinking about how nice Devon’s fire must be, he dozed off, only to wake a few hours later with rain on his face. Great. The shitty tent was leaking. Just perfect.

Grumbling, he dragged himself outside and dropped to sitting next to Shane, who looked as scruffy and miserable as he felt.

They bumped knuckles wearily.

“Ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The next several days were long, cold, wet slogs. Despite the discomfort, after the action finally got going, Rhys found himself invigorated by the challenge. He and the rest of his mercenary team planned recons, sorties and assaults designed specifically to keep the SF guys on their toes.

They harassed them, kept them on the move and, most satisfying of all, recruited some of the “guerrillas” they were trying so hard to train over to their side.

He texted Devon as much as he could, depending on the level of cell service they had. His battery was dying, and one night as he huddled in his tent, he regretfully told her this was probably the last time they’d be able to talk until the exercise was over.

Yeah, me too, she said. Battery’s in the red.

Well, let’s talk until they die. What’d you do today?

Ugh. Learned something I’ve never in my life wanted to learn.

Yeah? What’s that?

A long pause, and then the text popped up: Learned how to kill a rabbit.

Ah. Learning how to trap, cook and eat small animals was an important evasion and survival skill. Unpleasant at times, but necessary. He knew Devon understood that, though, so he just waited her out.

The first guy that tried it fucked it up so badly that I had to go off by myself to cry afterward.

A picture formed in Rhys’s mind of a derelict plane and Devon cradling a ragged stuffed bunny in her arms. He himself had seen his fair share of botched rabbit executions, and he winced.

Ah, hell, I’m sorry, he said. I know that’s rough.

Luckily Matt grew up on a farm and he was able to show us how to do it quickly and painlessly the next time. UGH.

Rhys knew her well enough by now to suspect she was beating herself up for crying about a rabbit in front of the guys.

You okay?

Sort of.

After a second of hesitation, Rhys typed, Can I call you?

Nothing for a minute, and then she said, Yeah, let me get somewhere I can talk. Call you in a few.

When his phone buzzed, he answered softly, “Hey. Anything I can do?”

“Nah.” Devon sounded tired and a little congested. “Just feeling like an asshole, to be honest. Crying over a damn rabbit.”

“Hey, nobody likes to see a living creature suffer. If the guy fucked up what should be a humane kill so badly, he’s the asshole, not you.”

“Everyone was upset about it,” she admitted, “but nobody cried. Just the female.” Her voice wobbled a little. “Typical, huh? Stupid.”