“I am.”

“Thought so.” He sighed dramatically with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, I’ll teach you.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting a soldier under my command go into war helpless.” A familiar tone echoed under his words. “Let’s get out of the tents.”

She followed him into the desert on the outside of the host. They didn’t go far, just far enough that there was room to move in a wide circle and not fear for swinging their blades.

“You don’t hold it like that. Look at how I hold mine.” He demonstrated on his own blade and ended up moving her hand placement anyways. “There, like that.”

“It’s heavy,” she whispered.

“It’s forged steel.” Daniel chuckled. “Now, to swing.”

If Serien had been exhausted, in pain, and sweat drenched from the march, it was nothing compared to working with Daniel until sunset. Every limb ached, her shoulders screamed in protest, and she could barely grip the blade to sheathe it.

“That’s enough for today.” Daniel made note of her condition.

Serien nodded in thanks. “Daniel,” she said softly as they started back for camp.

“Yes?” His tone had changed to something she knew.

“Can I just get any tent?”

“You didn’t already get one?” He seemed startled.

“No, I didn’t. They didn’t tell me anything.” She bit her lip.

“There aren’t going to be any left.” Daniel ran a gauntleted hand through his hair. “Would you like to stay with me?” His question was so soft he clearly doubted it.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Daniel asked sincerely. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I ...”

“I won’t let you sleep in the sand, alone.” It hardly sounded appealing to her either. “Are you travelling with someone, Serien?”

Daniel stole her eyes, and Serien struggled with finding an answer. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Serien pushed ahead of him and didn’t look back.

It was just as he had said. She slept out in the open with her pack as her pillow. Even though the South would be in the throes of winter, it was hot in the Waste and that heat lingered through the evening. It wasn’t until the moon was half in the sky that she began to shiver.

When Serien woke, a blanket covered her shoulders. There was no name stitched upon it, but it was finer than standard issue. Serien looked around, as if she could find the phantom who had placed it upon her in the night. But no one came forward.