The day was overcast as most days were under the mainland's cruel cold, yet these clouds felt dimmer… Winter. No longer would the sun, or what little filtered through the sky, revitalize Akula with its warmth. She relied on the Creator's blessings of heaters and cloth now… Goddess bless the ever-hot strings within her coat and armor.

Heat was the lifeblood that kept her kind alive here, at the edge of civilization, where not even your own flesh can be trusted. It was sick, but this settlement, the fortress city of Sharkrin was the only breath of true air here—a bastion against the nightmares just outside its walls.

…The only place that would truly mourn the dead, no matter how foreign the Mountain worshippers' practices were.

She pushed through the metal fence gate and entered the churchyard, the hollowed ground bringing a somber peace to her in tune with battle-blood leaving her veins. The main house of prayer stood tall amongst the land kingdoms 'stones of remembrance,' even if the structure was only a skeleton at that point. Yet, it did not detract from them. It hovered like a doting father, watching carefully and patiently over his children.

Akula recalled the Mountain Lord's description as one with a singular eye to regard his people and one arm to guide them. Such felt oddly fitting, no matter if the building was intended for all sects of the Tridei… But the others did not need to hear that. Though perhaps it would still be proper to let her patriarch know her appreciation for the entire church.

Harrison, with his fur coat and rig, stood by the central path of the rectangular yard, hands held together and his head down. He faced the boulder marked for Morskoy, accompanied by an entourage of guards, namely the armored shieldswoman and the lightly-protected Cera and Vodny.

…Vodny. She stood like a statue. Her head faced the floor, her expression shadowed. Akula approached slowly, taking in the subtle twitch of the sole fisherwoman's snout, emphasizing the fight she held within.

The overseer patiently waited a few paces away; her alert could wait in favor of remembrance and prayer. One by one, their heads raised. Harrison glanced at the grieving blood-sister, offering a hand that she took and squeezed for a few moments before letting go with a huff.

"Creator. Sisters of the settlement," Akula addressed quietly, crossing the last of the distance.

"Morning," Harrison returned, stepping around the grieving fisherwoman to face her. He looked at her differently than before, a hint of caution mostly, now that he knew who she truly was.

She despised it. Her loyalty was as sure as the Cycle itself, her purpose acquiescent to his grand vision. Must she prove herself to be in line with him once more? To emphasize her position as a dutiful servant just as the rest were?

"May I?" She gestured to the stone of remembrance.

The group stepped away, offering her access to the stone. Akula kneeled down with a 'clunk' of her armor, and read the chiseled scripts, reading the virtues of 'redemption,' 'diligence,' and 'cooperation' for Morskoy. The other two were nearby with their own surface for recognition, but today, she honored the one she knew the best. She reached out and scratched a tally alongside the dozen others with her talon, marking the loyal fisherwoman as one who was remembered and missed.

She stood back up, clasped three hands together, closed her eyes… and she prayed. She prayed for the gods to hear. She prayed for Morskoy to reach the Mountain Lord's palace along with her mate. She prayed her existence beyond the mortal realm was pleasant and rewarding from the stalwart labor she provided in life. And even then, she requested the Goddess of the Cycle make her transition peaceful.

Akula opened her eyes and stepped away, joining the crowd of four mourners, who offered understanding nods.

"You're back early," Harrison stated, Cera and Vodny already having taken their place at his sides. "What's the problem?"

The overseer held her hands behind the small of her back, taking in a deep breath. The melancholy air stiffened into something more sterile and professional. She answered flatly and honestly. "We came across a large swarm. We managed to cull an estimated two hundred abhorrent, but their ranks swelled from a cave entrance nearby. Their numbers of venators and flying beasts were great, yet not enough for our venerable weapons."

She withheld a snarl and kept temper in her report. "None of us were harmed, but I ordered a retreat when the situation became unstable. We conducted your 'defensive backstep' method successfully."

Harrison steeled his visage, his intent firm. "Good call. What of the following swarm? How far did they get to the settlement?"

An uncertainty slipped into the overseer's voice. "That… is the unusual interaction. The abhorrent chose not to follow. One hundred meters into our escape, they turned around, despite our gunfire."

"…I was wondering why you were so calm," he answered curiously, scratching at the hairs on his chin. "Did you see the swarm return to the cave?"

"They went in its direction, yes. However, I did not give the direction to pursue."

"Was the swarm already there when you got near the cave, or did they only come out afterward?" Harrison pressed, pulling out his data pad.

"We were gathering flora nearby and listening for the hyena boars you requested be brought back. One of the fisherwomen spotted them approaching from the cave's direction," she recalled quickly.

He typed away upon his device before austerely staring up at her. "Alright, I've asked Trace to scout the area out. The reconnaissance drones aren't spotting any swarms near here either, so the horde didn't actually follow… Your girls are all inside the walls, right?"

She bowed her head. "Of course. We scanned ourselves for the infestation as well."

"Good, good… Make sure they're all okay. We might need to stop foraging if there's going to be an… Well, I assume there's a hive there." He ran a hand through the fur atop his head, huffing. "This was out west, right? By the creak area?"

"Correct"

He nodded, sighing. "…Right. Well, if the bugs are being defensive, then that cuts off that entire area. Imma need to talk to Shar and Trace about this. Go get your squad in order and sit tight for now. See if you can't squeeze in any more firearm and squad training; we might need a little backup while you're holding down the fort."

The Creator turned to Vodny, tapping her leg with the back of his palm. "This might also be a good chance for you to train with Cera head-on. I'll have you two come too."

A minuscule curl of the fisherwoman's lips provided the beginnings of emotion returning to her, animating her once more

With that, Akula split from the group, headed for her squad. She was glad the shame of retreat did not weigh heavily on her frills… glad that her patriarch was so caring for her people.

Thank the Goddess he understood the merit in fighting another day. The Sea Goddess knew the same could not be said for countless other haughty fools

= = = = =

"Fire!" Shar'khee ordered into the darkened afternoon, sending the range alight in gunfire once more.

The wooden mockery of a despised ballistae-scorpion was torn asunder in the hail of seven-six-two tracer bullets, pieces of it collapsing as the riflewomen and men found their mark with moderate success. It was obvious some of the green frills had missed, the Malkrin who fired them hissing at themselves in frustration.

And yet, a pride welled in the paladin's chest at seeing their accuracy improve in such a short time. She could have sworn some of the males and new miners wouldn't have been able to hit the side of the great walls from a hundred meters away if they tried. Yet, the determination in their furrowed brows and sharpened eyes pushed them to greater heights.

She walked down the line of pupils, checking their form and grip on the FALs, leaning between some to push one's elbow in and checked the handguard placement of another. Again, much fewer than the other day. They looked respectful of the grand weapon the Creator bestowed upon them. Powerful. Prepared.

It was as if Malkrin were born to hold such glorious instruments of war… What was it Harrison said about an old star-sent chant? 'Keep your rifle by your side?' Yes, that was it. Keep your rifle by your side, and you need not fear the whims of a tyrant.

As long as the Sharkrin were armed, they were not to be trifled with. Not by the inquisition. Not by the abhorrent. And not by the horrors of the mainland. It was the key to their sovereignty and the power of the people, deserving of the same respect as great swords of legends.

Perhaps, in time, her browning would rival the stories of the Leviathan Slayer's blade of electricity.

But that was all vanity. No such stories came from those who waited. She found her place at the end of the firing line and raised her intent. "Take aim!"

The line of firearms raised in succession. Squinting eyes peered down the iron sights. Shar'khee stared at the target seventy-five meters away.

"Fire!"

Another volley of beautiful tracers soared across the range, impacting the vile, wooden abhorrent. And look, twelve of the fifteen bullets hit their mark! It was hard to contain the smile on her face, and neither could the shooters, most of whom were celebrating in their own way, whether it be a delighted grin or a prideful shake of the fist.

Wonderful. An accuracy of eighty percent was an excellent starting point. The next step would be shot groupings on paper targets to help tune in their precision for the next few training sessions.

Shar'khee clicked her tongue twice, gathering their attention. "Excellent shots. Unload your weapons and bring them to your table to begin disassembling them."

She nodded to the other side of the line, where one of her machine-gunners stood watch, gesturing for her to take half the group. The addressed spear did as asked, bringing a few green frills to the wall. The paladin was prepared to do the same, but a familiar face exited the settlement and waved her down.

Cera jogged the distance with a calm visage, meeting Shar'khee's raised brow with a notepad. 'Creator request you in workshop.'

"Understood." A slight sway made its way to her tail, no matter what circumstance she was needed for. She turned around, addressing her intent to one of her anti-tank specialists atop the elevated range platform. "Sister spear, I need you to oversee disassembly and cleaning."

The strike squad member nodded, unloading her weapon and swiftly trotting down the stairs to complete her orders. Shar'khee offered her a firm pat on the shoulder as she passed.

She turned to follow Cera into the settlement, scanning herself with the medical machine stationed nearby upon entry. A brief glimpse of their waving flag sparked an extra hint of determination in her heart on the way to the workshop. The two of them weaved and ducked through the machines within, using newly installed 'female-rated' catwalks to walk above a few rows of automated foundries. Their destination was found in Shar'khee's female mate's corner of drones and technology.

The two star-sents watched an array of monitors, each showing the view of a dozen reconnaissance drones. Harrison, who stood behind Tracy's seat hissed as one of the feeds went black.

The images became clearer as she approached, appearing as a cave in low-light vision. There were numerous abhorrent along the walls, crawling around like the mindless beasts they were. Some jumped at the drones to little success compared to their ranged comrades.

She scowled at the sight, glaring at those repulsive things attempting to mar star-sent technology. Where was this? Which cavern was infested by such an amount of monsters? Were the strike team and hunters to be mobilized soon?

"Shar-Shar!" Tracy exclaimed, glancing back at her from her rotating seat and causing their shared male to turn around.

"Hey," Harrison greeted, a smile taking over his irritated expression at the paladin's presence. "Glad you got here so quick. We've got a little conundrum on our hands that'll need your squad's attention sometime soon."

"We are at your command."

Her male rested his forearm on the back of the Artificer's chair. "Well, it's only half-urgent as of now. The gatherers came across a rather defensive hive out west that chased them away when they approached. So, we'll be needing to clear them out sometime soon to keep the safety of our expeditions. Hence why I called you up."

He jabbed a thumb at the screens, in which two more had gone black, and then pointed again toward the juvenile and the injured one, Talos, at computer stations further along the wall. "Trace, Rei, and Talos are currently doing recon of the cave and getting a feel for its shape and the amount of bugs in it. They'll give us the scans and notable chokeholds when they're done, and we'll go over the defensible positions and where we want to enter from after."

Shar'khee bowed her head, firmly holding her arms at her sides."Of course. How shall my squad prepare in the meantime? What of the green frills?"

"You said the new ones weren't ready earlier this morning," he countered with a shrug. "They'll stay back and watch. We can set up the helmet cameras for them so they'll know what we're up against and what we're capable of—the same for Max, too. And, as for now, I think your team can hang tight. We'll gather the troops for a fuller discussion when we have all the information and we've gotten our strategy down. After that, do some applicable drills and make sure your girls get a good night's sleep. If everything goes well, we'll start the raid tomorrow morning."

"That is most reasonable, dearest. Then what of myself?"

"Again, hang tight. Just needed to keep you in the loop, so continue training or stick with us—I sure don't mind having you around."

Shar'khee's lips curled upward, pleased. "Know that I would sit in complete darkness for an eternity, if I knew you were there beside me."

A small flare of red took up her dearest's cheeks as he huffed incredulously. "Good Lord, there's no need to butter me up like that… I love you too."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

He reached a warm hand out, offering the paladin to intertwine her digits with his and squeeze for a moment. She purred softly. "I did not say such, but you must know that I love you as well."

Harrison grabbed another hand of hers and pulled her in before surrounding himself in her arms and returning to watch the videos. She was quite fond of this position, her wrists over his shoulders and holding onto him. It made her feel strong…protective. As if she was doing what was right. Her frills vibrated in its bliss.

Her male was swaddled snugly into her, his back pressed oh-so-comfortably into her thighs. Goddess, if only she weren't wearing her armor, his warmth, his surprisingly toned muscles, and fur coat would feel euphoric on her skin. The more she gripped his shoulders and pulled him into her waist, the more she adored the idea.

If she stripped herself right then and there… his heat would once more permeate between her hips, reigniting that fire he and Tracy ignited within her the other night. There was something about his musculature, leading hand, and sharpened, observant eyes that did something to her. It turned her breath ragged with the smoky, stoked flames heating up within her.

Her very flesh begged for something more, rattling and exciting every part of her body without an outlet… She needed him to complete it, yet she could not piece together what it was. The paladin felt somewhere within that it must deal with Tracy's flaunted 'mating' and 'relief.'

That desire must have a release for how… electric his pressure felt against her lower fins. How tightly her thighs clenched. How dearly she yearned for a release only he could give.

Two clicks of a tongue snapped her back into reality, in which the tightness of her grip on her male's shoulders and the repetitive, tantalizing force she thrusted into his back came to light. She paused mid-buck.

His face was as red as her skin, his beautiful green eyes staring up at her cautiously yet with a sheen of… interest. She felt his heartbeat race beside hers as if he was pressed to her chest, reveling in how the very same pulse pounded from his back and into her thighs.

But it was not him who called for attention. Cera stood off to the side, holding her notebook out for the Creator to read. He did so and pulled out his data pad. There were a few screens he swiped through until he found the one he was looking for, displaying a green rectangle with English script underneath a plastic, rubbery casing over an outlined circle.

He took in a slow, uncertain breath before glancing at Cera. "Yeah… they, uh, finished printing a couple of minutes ago… I know you said it's similar, but are you sure they'll work? For Oliver that is, I don't know how that kind of thing fits… Malkrin."

Cera nodded once in confidence.

The chair jerked around, throwing Harrison's arm off as Tracy entered the conversation. A wide grin and devious eyes wrinkled her visage, her entire being vibrating with thrilled intrigue. "Wait, you actually printed them out?"

"I'm not an asshole, and I promised them this a while ago," Harrison shot back, poking the female between her brows. "If they want to do it, then they can. I'd rather have this than the alternative."

Tracy squinted. "Don't lie, you were doing it for us, weren't you?"

The Creator dragged his finger up, pushing his palm into her forehead and tilting her entire head up toward him. Shar'khee could not see what happened after he leaned over her, but the quiet vocalizations of star-sent whispers and several audible 'kisses' gave her an idea, even if her male sounded almost… predatory, if she had to put a word to it.

When he stood up fully once more, the Artificer's face had accumulated a rather deep flush. Her unruly expression had softened into shyness as her shoulders hunched inward, turning her frame smaller and more submissive. Just what had their mate said?

A subtle shiver ran down her spine… Would he make the paladin feel the same way?

Her hands found their way from his shoulders to across his neck, feeling his fur coat and slinking her digits across the shirt beneath his rig. She tuned her voice to a softer, eager lilt. "Dearest, what is it you printed out?"

He scratched the back of his head, looking up at her with an unsteady smile. "It's… something important for later. Protection."

"I see. What manner? A turret? A type of shield? Javelin keeps regaling me of 'force fields' and 'shield heroes,' yet I do not quite understand why you would be reacting in such a way to it…" She smirked, shaking her head. "What could possibly be so special?"

Cera offered her notepad with a motherly smile, reading simply, 'follow me.'

"Where will we go?"

The markswoman simply mimicked a 'come hither' gesture, nodding toward the main fabricator line.

Shar'khee looked to Harrison, who sucked in air through his teeth in an awkward hiss, looking away. That sparked Tracy once more, erupting the female back into snickers at his embarrassment… The paladin would return as promptly as she could.

She followed the black-skinned guard into the machines once more. They walked far enough to be out of the star-sent's view and intent before they found a tall, monolithic fabricator lit up green in its production tray.

The machine opened at a lower section with a subtle 'clunk,' allowing Cera to pull the export platform out and revealing an array of… plastic. There were at least a hundred connected rows of golden-hue squares with circular contours held within the assumed wrap.

"Is it some form of star-sent material? What are these?" Shar'khee asked, leaning over to pull one from the rest, revealing a second layer of the same items below them, but with wider circles.

She ignored the extra ones, bringing the one she held up to her eye to inspect it. It felt a little slippery against her palm. A few prods told her it contained something rubbery within.

The markswoman offered her notebook and a raised brow. 'It prevent pups after mating, Creator say.'

There was an extra few English scripts that made for a word the paladin could not understand. 'C,' 'O,' 'N,' 'D,' 'O,' and 'M'…?

Cera took her writing material back and picked up one of the printed items. She ripped off a corner, severing an entire side of the wrapping and pulling the little circle out. She held it between two talons in front of herself, displaying it to Shar'khee before pushing another finger through the center, unraveling a thin, tubular film from it.

She felt embarrassed in her ignorance, her ears flattening. "Forgive me, I do not follow. What does this have to do with mating? I am not particularly… informed."

Cera's eyes widened in confusion for a moment before she looked away and nodded in understanding. Her expression was paused as she thought on the subject, leaving the paladin more uncertain about admitting her fault… How was she meant to know? The Order forbid her of any such things, down to a mere showing of preference to any males!

The markswoman dropped the rubber 'protection' and quickly took to her writing once more, producing a singular query and a swift drawing.

'Would you like to be informed?' it read, accompanied by a small picture of what resembled her and the Creator side by side.

Shar'khee uncomfortably handed it back, though there was an undeniable bubbling of curiosity within her. "You are willing to teach me about mating?"

Cera nodded before completing another note. 'I not know of star-sent mating. I know of Malkrin mating. I can teach you about you. Not star-sent. You must ask star-sent.'

…The paladin nodded. "Of course. Tracy said she would teach me… Can you teach me about myself."

Her tutor in the unknown art of mating held a digit up to pause the conversation, taking some time before writing the first part of her information down.

'Please seek star-sent for what they know after my words. Mating is simple for Malkrin. Most important parts are two male limbs and two females parts that…'

= = = = =

The guardswoman—a spear of Sharkrin now—sat down at her squad's table with a plate of meat and stew. Her sisters from the island sat close by, but were hardly as reserved as they were the first night.

A Sharkrin anti-tank specialist wrapped two arms over the town-guard's shoulder, boisterously complimenting her 'skill' in dropping her Browning ammunition cans. A few seats down, the female, once a part of the predator-culling militia, was eagerly discussing with a few others about the 'zeroing' of a gun sight when in use with a 'laser aiming module.'

…Which left her, the one who used to stand post by the town center, patrolling around the church and main buildings, as the third of the banished guardswomen. She was no stranger to interaction nor finding sisters to bond with, but these 'spears' were from entirely different islands, lineages, and even sects, as preposterous as the idea was.

The people, the Sharkrin, did not consider their social stratum in their interactions. They treated their leaders as siblings and those with names as just another Malkrin. Of course, they gave great respect to their chief, but when it came to one another, it was as if they simply threw away their prior lives, only worrying about their skills for the benefit of the fortress.

They were all some sort of… amalgamation of people. N-Not to mention the fact that her squad leader apparently worshiped the Bringer of Plague Winds! Yet, not even Monbishoppe had anything to say about it! Mountain Lord, there were even rumors of multiple water worshipers? Only the God of Labor knew if that was true, but the fact she could believe it said enough.

No one cared. No one fought about it. No one bothered to look into it. The laborers simply worked their tasks, enjoyed their hobbies, and the—quite honestly delectable—star-sent food.

No one even bothered to ask the guardswoman of her upbringing, or judge her mothers' lower standing… It was confusing. Everything felt like a blur yet each interaction she had felt distinct here. They were fond and impactful. There was death and battles to be fought, yet the others could not be warmer—both of their skin and attitude.

And what of the unusual creations? There were entire buildings made of metal and Malkrin-like golems that walked and spoke like them, and somehow, such a thing was deemed to be 'unusual' at most by her new sisters? What was that? And those flying, buzzing things? Could she even question the whims of the star-sents?

The guardswoman swallowed and stared into her soup, a grumbling from her stomach born of today's training begging her to partake in it. She wanted to, but her hands could not be moved from her lap, held down by her roiling thoughts.

The more she thought of where she had ended up, between the blessings and the strangeness, she felt… lost. And yet…

"Guardswoman?" A soft, gloved hand gripped her top shoulder, shaking it.

Her eyes snapped to the strapping, orange-skinned and greatcoat-wearing riflewoman beside her. The female's eyes pinched together in worry, forcing a swift response from the new, confused spear. "Yes? What need do you have of me?"

"I have no request. I saw you appeared quite… despondent? Your lack of an appetite worried me. Is something amiss?"

"I second the question," the anti-tank specialist behind the kind female added.

…And yet, for how disorienting her interactions have been, she felt comforted. Safe and assured of something… more. The pain of the lashes, the stiffened, emotionless fog around her heart, and the crushing terror of her unknown and 'heretical' future on the mainland had gone away, healed in the small showings of camaraderie and respect offered so freely.

The others knew the struggle she went through because they were just the same, lost and afraid, clinging onto what few paths were offered… And thank the Lord of Labor, she followed Father Monbishoppe.

"Forgive me, I was simply lost in thought. I had no intention of worrying you," she quietly answered, swiftly picking up her ladle and taking a sip of the soup, finding it as deliciously salty as ever.

"No, it is my apologies for disrupting you… How was training with Shar'khee this afternoon?" the riflewoman added, interested in sparking the conversation further.

"It was swell," she admitted casually, taking another drink. "I was pleased to manage an exceptional accuracy at the range. I believe your tip about breathing out was quite instrumental to my success."

"How excellent!" her sister spear cheered, gripping the guardswoman's shoulders once more and shaking her in delight. "Pray tell, what do you think of the holographic sight on the UKM? I see the other green frills have only been allowed FALs thus far. Not even a laser aiming module, either!"

She cut into her blue-reed fish steak, pausing for a moment to recall the fascinating aura of red lines that seemed to enlarge, shrink, or move when she looked into it at different angles."Ah, yes, it was quite a curious beast to control. I found myself watching the wisp within it move around to my movements. I suppose it is also the reason as to why my accuracy has improved. Though, I am quite curious as to why it appears to grow so swiftly when I take my head back…."

The riflewoman crossed her arms with a chuff of amusement, having already finished her meal. "I feel the same. It is odd to think we only had them after the last blood-moon… In fact, did you know our captain prefers the laser aiming compared to the sights?"

"And there is good reason for it!" Javelin scolded from down the table, jabbing her 'chopsticks' in the accuser's direction.

"Yes, it is good for level, indiscriminate fire, but you must admit, aiming allows for much better shot groupings than point-fire, no?"

The squad's captain tented her brows incredulously, acting as if she had been insulted. "And when was the last time we were not allowed indiscriminate fire?"

The riflewoman chittered, lively and deep, while shaking her head. "You forget our incursions across the southern marshes and northern plains before, in which we engaged the abhorrent at near two-hundred meters! The holographic sights would have been a blessing then. Mountain lord, could you imagine having Cera's variable optic?"

"You forget that brownings are intended to be held by the hip. Such additions would be inconceivable without switching their grips and trigger mechanisms," Javelin shot back, twirling her two wooden utensils between her digits.

The accuser smirked. "I never said anything about the shieldswomen and their armament. All I said was that we riflewomen and anti-tank specialists appreciate our accuracy and do well with our sights… I have not the faintest clue why you must display your jealousy so prevalently."

"And you are jealous of my kill count. While you were studying the weapon and fiddling with your attachments, I studied its use. Three-oh-eight light machine guns need not accuracy when they distribute death at several-hundred rounds per minute. We fight hordes, baka."

"Yes, I am aware…" The riflewoman scoffed and shook her head again, giving her attention back to the thoroughly astonished guardswoman. "Do not listen to her. There will be plenty of moments in which accuracy is crucial. Especially for the ceiling-crawling ballistae-scorpions that skitter like dart-fish."

The new spear glanced over to Javelin, who had already moved on to another conversation, speaking of 'sword art' or something similar… All she could do was go along with the accepted insubordination. "O-Of course. Shar'khee implores us to be accurate and efficient with our shots."

Another chuff left her conversation partner before she took a swig of her half-filled pitcher of rum. "You know, we will be donning cameras on our helmets for our raid tomorrow. The Creator hopes the green-frills will watch and take note of our prowess and strategy… You have only seen pictures of the abhorrent, yes?"

"…I have," the spear responded cautiously, recalling the nasty teeth and overgrown, sharpened shells displayed on the glowing 'screens.' Oh, how she jumped at the sight put in front of her eyes, thinking it was right there.

"They are quite vile things, much faster and vicious in person. Ask the harvesters as to why we have a minimum of eight explorers for anyone leaving the fortress."

"And what of the flying acid-spitters?" a shieldswoman from across the table chimed in casually, resting her elbows on the table. "The new ones have yet to be shown those beasts. And I have yet to see the 'smoke mortar' creatures myself."

"They die as easily as the grunts. Another reason—" the riflewoman poked the guardswoman with her elbow, smirking. "—that precision and efficiency in your shots is paramount. Those flying abhorrent are glutinous and slow, but that hardly makes them an easy target."

She felt a cold shiver spread down her spine… Flying?

The orange-skinned female wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning in close and throwing an arm out wide in explanation. "There is no need to appear so worried. You shall not fight until the next blood-moon… Still, your weaponry shall carry you far, and even then, we shall be beside you for every struggle. You have yet to see the drones and turrets in battle… Imagine a hundred UKMs, Brownings, and cannons fighting beside you. The rumbling is euphoric."

A slow huff left the riflewoman, lowering her intent. "You will see. The Creator works tirelessly for our future; it is in his vision to do so. All you must do is train and follow, and you will find yourself a superior version of the female you were born to be."

Some part of the guatdswoman already knew that was true, but the immediate emotions and observations fogged the long-term consequences of her actions.

"I believe our planning may be a proper example," the same shieldswoman offered with a thoughtful look.

The other spear perked up, reaching into her chest pocket to retrieve a thin, folded piece of white parchment. "Here, take a look at this."

The guardswoman took the item and unfolded it as she would her schedule paper. She felt the others at the table lean forward, interested in the parchment. Her island mates wore especially curious gazes.

…She decided to push her meal tray off to the side and flatten the, what were now clearly, detailed cave schematics. There were a few recognized scripts that represented 'shields' and 'formation' between cave walls in tight areas. There were additional arrows that drew between numbered bulwarks, which themselves were adorned with the same unrecognized emblems and 'hunters.'

A talon pointed directly to a script with 'door.' "This will be our entry point, another surface entrance to the south of the main cave. It will be with rappelling equipment, given the verticality. I hope you train with them soon. They are quite fun, and most certainly useful."

"Don't say that to the harvesters, though!" a different spear chittered from over the table.

"Not all of them have such poor memories," the riflewoman returned before continuing her explanation. "Now, you'll see here the shields are representative of prime defensible positions derived from our in-depth studies of the cave. The 'mobile castle' doctrine, formed from our esteemed paladin and Creator's wit, ensures our protection and lethality through…"

The lively female continued to detail the aspects of their leaders' exploits in both safety and unparalleled carnage, allowing the other spears to add in with their own experiences and thoughts. Every inclusion raised the energy within the group, spawning smiles and banter.

Even the guardswomen could not shy away from their playful mirth. She joined in readily, laughing and smirking over the foolish and insightful words of her new sisters. Though in time, the watches of the spears beeped in unison, alerting them of their next scheduled block.

The riflewoman took her paper back and folded it away. She looked at the newer spear and smiled. "It would appear our meal time may have gone a little longer than expected."

"What have you to do this late in the evening? Is it not time for crafts and slumber?"

A smile curled over the boisterous spear. "We have one last training before the morning's raid… Have you any interest in coming along and watching? I feel that you would enjoy seeing our paladin and Creator's leadership in action."

A shot of interest coursed up the guardswoman's spine, her tail already swaying. "I… I would indeed!"

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