Cipher Code {complete}

Chapter Eight: Cannon Fodder •EDITED•

As a child Philip had dreaded the strict exercises his grandfather made him do on horseback. Funnily enough, his distaste for riding didn't stem from the fact the every gallop caused an unstoppable reaction in is gut. Instead it was the because he so distinctly recalled being called a complete failure by his adopted brothers that the very thought struck him breathless.

So when the mysterious leader of the famed Cipher Squad suggested the mode of transportation that was akin to the very incarnation of death to him, it was only natural that he lost all his will to press forward. . . momentarily of course.

After all, his grandfather had always insisted that he was trained in the way of the horse, claiming that it was the pride of all members of the old noble families. That he should be proud to become so proficient in the handling of such majestic yet wild creatures.

Philip remembered, as his backside and calves were painfully chaffed by the forceful and nonstop training, wondering why horse riding was even necessary in the twenty-sixth century when teleportation booths were located at the corner of every residential home.

Now it was obvious to him that his grandfather had foreseen the end of the world.

"But seriously, screw him and his aesthetics. . ." Philip snorted, still thinking about the stubborn horse the old man had purposely picked for him.

The stallion in question snorted as well, shaking it's head furiously as though the animal had understood that it was being abused in its owner's heart. Seeing as how most domestic animals were trained to perceive human emotion, it was likely not far from the case.

"We'll be there soon."

"We'll soon get into a cosy tent, next to a Sol pit and. . ."

These were the words Philip used to consoled himself as he squeezed his thighs tightly around the girth of his horse, tempted to throw up his nonexistent lunch as the rocking motions stirred his stomach painfully.

It was just too bad that he was too used to it to fake sickness and get out of the mission. Dawn Draekon had been explicitly clear about that when she had told him the benefits of being in her precious Cipher Squad, like the new drugs that nearly banished his nausea.

"Oh, dear Code." A groan slipped passed his lips as he stared into the dense fog, the billowing white now a strange cloud of green tumbling around in the air.

The vision seemed unreal, tinted by the virescent lenses he wore, making the forest seem less like a death trap and more like a wonderland despite him knowing better. It was because of this that he was once again tempted to halt his horse and take it all in. The fog was thicker here, rolling more in waves that the thin smog it was just before this section of Nicia-the change was drastic enough for him to note it down, knowing any good soldier would have done the same.

Yet easy as it was to wish for a break, Philip pressed on, fighting his desires and keeping up his pace. It was only common sense to know that the thicker the fog, the more danger he was exposed to.

Still, he didn't know whether he was safer being the rearguard of the calvary-being in the back couldn't really guarantee safety with everywhere swapped with vines and trees.

And what if the creatures are smart enough to ambush from a behind? Philip winced at the thought, nearly dismissing it entirely as exhaustion slowly hacked away at his senses.

"I really wish we could have a break." he sighed again, his emerald eyes squinting into the cool and setting evening even though the sun he was used to was now unseen. "At this rate we'll have no strength to fight if we're attacked."