Camp Frost – The Plains
Years and years the war had dragged on. No one knew when or why it had started. What for or for whom they’ve fought for, and are still fighting for? Nobody knew, nobody cared. Generations of men had been born into war since then and that was all they knew till they met their end. Killing as much of the opposite camp as they can was their purpose and no one seemed to have a problem with that anymore.
All but a few. Renner was one. Renner Frost, two-and-three years old, with dark green eyes with a pinch of red that you could get lost in with enough time, broad of shoulder and body. Attractive, even. He often found himself feeling lonely, even midst his closest buddies. Just the way he liked it. He was one among very few who still seemed to give a damn about what their actual purpose was.
Not being one to savor the thrill of a good fight, he was often kept at a distance, mocked and pushed to do stuff. That is, when he let them. He may be tired of the fight, but that definitely didn’t make him any bad at it. He knew how much he could go along with, and didn’t let anyone try to make him go an ounce above it.
“I don’t see the point of why we do this every seven days, is all I’m saying,” he said defensively. The bonfire was burning bright now, lighting up the scene under the pitch black sky. Being outside was a welcome change from staying in their tents. They had small tents that usually about ten soldiers had to cramp up themselves in. This night, Renner, Jonathan and Saint were keeping watch.
“Well, kid. The alternative is actually having to KEEP WATCH, now cummon, pitch!” commanded Saint. He was two-and-seven years old, brown of eyes and had a rugged look that he dubbed handsome. He was quite the opposite of Renner; liked nothing more than to see the look of horror on his foe’s face. He was the one who suggested they play ‘Pitch your war’, where the participants took turns pitching their idea of why the war could have begun and the person who’s pitch has the highest number of votes at the end won. Renner had played it a thousand times before. Saint, even more, but he liked to get into the person’s head judging just by their story. He could tell everything about you after a few times, he claimed.
“If Ren is not going to, can I play?” asked John. “Well, look at that. I’m getting myself a story after all, I don’t need you,” Saint said winking at Renner. “You can go on mate, whenever you are ready.” he said turning to John.
John cleared his throat and began his tale. Oh poor Jony, thought Renner. Of course he would give in himself. Always wanting to fit in.
Fitting in was about the hardest thing for John to do. He has red eyes, a round belly, and faints at the sight of blood. He was made an archer, which he was quite skilled at, but wouldn’t dare think about how his arrows were killing people somewhere. The arrows leave his bow and he makes sure to immediately turn his attention to nocking the next one. A poor soul, stuck in a place he didn’t belong : War.
“… and he had to donate his own blood to the cause. It was the most heroic thing to do, and the only option really, in the end.” he finished finally. “That was damn interesting Jony boy. You get all the votes in the land for that.” said Saint acting proud, with heavy emphasis on each word. John bought it completely and went red in his cheeks, unable to catch Saint’s sarcasm.
He turned back to Renner, “See, Ren? Wasn’t that just great? And you said it was pointless.” he prompted, sniggering.
“Yeah… Yes, I was wrong, that was great” Ren said absent-minded. Saint caught onto that; he never seemed to miss anything. “Hey, what’s going on in that metal head of yours, huh?” he asked Renner.
“Come on, it’s just us” he said.
“Do u ever want to stop? Just stand still, catch your breath once in a while. We’ve been running forever. If not that, we’re chasing. Have you never thought of ending it all?”
John was staring into the fire, unaware of everything else. Saint thought about it for a while, studying Ren’s face the entire time. Wow that is… uncomfortable. He’s staring straight into my soul!
Finally he began, “Well, ending it all is what we fight for, soldier. We fight. We kill. We quench their damn flame. Then we get to stand still, wherever we want. If we can’t, our children will. If they can’t, maybe their children would. Until then, we run when we loose and chase when we win. Never stop. Never surrender. And no, I have never thought about having to stop.” There was a brief silence for a while.
Wow, that actually sounded like it made sense, thought Renner. That’s a first, I think. Do I say something? This silence has been going on for a while now.
Now it was Saint who was looking into the fire, all solemn. Thankfully, John came to his rescue and broke the silence.
“If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to doze off now” he said and went to sleep before either of them could say anything.
“The stars are beautiful tonight, eh?” Saint said. “Yeah, maybe the view is worth fighting for. Maybe.” Renner replied. “Pfft, this crap? Wait till the moon’s completely gone. That’d be worth dying for, even. It will take another eight days for that, I’m guessing.”
“You can read star cycles?” Ren asked, puzzled. Saint nodded, and fed some more wood to the flickering fire.
Saint never failed to surprise Renner. If only he had any idea of the surprises he would receive in the future…