I Am A Flyer

II: Beginning of the End?

 

With the first hints of daylight, Jett was already getting out of bed. He had slept in all of his clothing, armor and all, so all he had to do was pull on his boots. He hadn't slept much during the night. There were too many things on his mind – too many things with too few answers. As a result, dark bags loomed beneath his eyes, and he felt strangely weak and disoriented.

He staggered out of the tent, and stopped, squinting up at the lightening sky. It was fairly early in the morning; most of the troops would still be sleeping. Jett wanted to sleep for three days straight, but it might as well be impossible, since his troubled thoughts wouldn't let him. That, and he usually sacrificed half of his sleep time to train.

Jett uncorked the canteen he always carried with him, and raised it to his lips. Perhaps some water would help refresh him. There was only a small amount remaining, which failed miserably in quenching his growing thirst. He shook the canteen grumpily, but only a single drop came out. Well, now. That was just great. Now he had to go to Lydia's tent to get a refill. That woman is crazy. . .

Muttering under his breath, he stalked towards his destination. To make things worse, he was starting feel nauseated. Lovely. First tired, then thirsty, and now nauseous. It was turning out to be a great day, and he couldn't feel happier.

Surprisingly, Lydia was nowhere to be seen in her tent, which was a small source of relief. In any case, there was a large barrel filled with cool, crystal clear water. It had a small spout on the side, which was dripping irregularly. The water seemed to beckon to him, and Jett started to make a beeline for it.

His attention was so focused on it, that he didn't notice the figure step into his way. There was a brief flash of pain, followed by a myriad of stars. Then Jett was staring straight up at the tent's roof. He scowled, irritated. What was he lying down for? How did he get there? It was annoying.

"Are you all right?" Oh, look. Now there was a hand in his face.

Jett grumbled, and knocked the hand away. It didn't belong in his face. He sat up, and tried to stand. His body seemed so heavy, it took a lot of effort just to get up. Once he was standing, his head reeled, and he nearly fell over. What. . .was going on?

He felt so sick, and so terribly thirsty. Water. . . he needed -

"Hey! Did you hear me?"

There was a guy standing there. Jett looked up at the slightly blurred form. The person seemed to sway like a blade of grass in the breeze. He rubbed his eyes; what was wrong with them?

"Go 'way," Jett mumbled. "Need water."

The guy didn't move. If anything, he moved closer. "Hey! You're Raven's kid, aren't you? I'd recognize his mark anywhere. . . But hey, are you really all right? You're look like you're sick. . ."

Jett had enough. He promptly kicked the guy in the shin. The guy stepped back, more from surprise than pain. Jett tottered past the guy, and over to the barrel of water.

It looked so good. It would be perfect for his tired, dizzy head. He leaned over, and submerged his head completely. He exhaled slowly, and let the water rush into his mouth, and down into his stomach. This was so nice.

This beautiful water seemed to fix everything. It made his weary head better, and got rid of that ravenous thirst. It even numbed his mind, covering it with a slow fog that slowly swept everything away, and left behind a blissful peace. Here, it was quiet. Here, he could sleep. . . .and dream. . . . He closed his eyes, and relaxed.

Something ripped him out of the peace, and suddenly, he felt like he was dying. Something hurt deep within, spreading out to his left arm. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. His whole body was numb, and the only thing he could feel was that dreadful burning sensation.