Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

15. Irritability and Old Faces

Charmaine

Charmaine peered into the gray skies of the Deadlands. She found the color belonged specifically to these lands, a dark gray that spoke of thunderstorms but never gave way to rain. Snow, though, that fell continuously. Soldiers maintained the camp by endlessly shoveling. The snow made for good walls. Bit by bit, soldiers surrounded the encampment with snow so thick and cold that they could walk atop them to survey the surrounding areas. Charmaine had been put to work among the wall that morning. Although the sun had risen hours ago, the heat never greeted them. Forever trapped in the skies, sharing little light and even less warmth.

"Tuckerton, we're to switch out," Karles said on his approach. He reeked of cigar smoke. She grumbled when stepping aside, letting him stand watch in her stead and hurrying to escape the stench.

Mages had been tasked with watching the walls, quicker at defending than pistols that ran out of bullets. A boring task, but simple and it allowed Charmaine time to herself. She disliked working among the men, always paranoid about how they perceived her. If she came across too feminine, too weak, they would notice. The response from annoyed young boys was bad enough. She didn't want to think of the fury grown angry men would unleash.

Shuffling down the snowy steps, Charmaine moved through the crowded camp towards the medical stations. The camp had grown larger in the days since the fae scouts departed. The soldiers that had taken their wounded from the battle at Lockehold returned, along with a couple of troops that had been heading towards the Deadlands to join the upcoming battles. Due to all the new faces and old friends reuniting, the soldiers grew boisterous. Charmaine hated it, all the noise, the clamoring, and now dodging a drunk man, who would be scolded once the higher officers came by. Not that many cared. Everyone had been miserable among the cold and, in the army, everyone became accustomed to a shouting.

Through the throngs of bodies, Charmaine finally came upon the medical tents. William spoke with a patient, someone suffering a cold based on their red nose and loud sneezes. Being huddled together for so long meant illness spread easily. She counted over a dozen soldiers coughing and wheezing in the beds, but at least a cold could be handled better than a lost limb or cut open abdomen.

Scribbling on a clipboard, William didn't see Charmaine until he walked by her.

"Off wall duty?" he asked on his way outside.

"Yeah. I've got a few hours before I'm to return," she replied, following him towards the supply tent next door.

"Then you should take this time to rest." William slipped inside. Charmaine lit a flame that hovered nearby, more for heat than light.

"I'm not tired," she said. Which was unusual for all of them. Even while waiting for the inevitable fight, the soldiers always had something to do. Hunt for more food, clean the walkways, secure tents, clean clothes and bedding, secure the wall, check on supplies, sharpen knives, anything and everything that kept them busy from dawn to dusk. Then they fell asleep in old sleeping bags that took months to grow accustomed to. Charmaine usually always passed out the moment she laid her head down, but lately she had a giddiness to her. Even when she had little sleep, exhaustion never truly settled upon her.

"I'd rather help you than get caught by another and told to do some boring or annoying task. I've got a bad enough headache already," she added while holding her hand out for the clipboard. She knew William had been tasked with checking the medical supplies. After helping on numerous occasions, she knew what to do and William gave the clipboard to her without fuss.

"Like I said, you should rest to be rid of that headache," he repeated.

"It'll go away soon enough."

Times together were often spent chatting, but William examined the crates in silence. His eyes held distance. William was never as much of a chatterbox as her. Upon their initial meeting, the two would sit in silence for hours. Charmaine wished to speak, but William's cold demeanor deterred her. However, over the years that cold thawed, in a sense, and William came to start conversations naturally. Sometimes. This felt like he had gone back to their training days when horrors filled their heads.