The army moved steadily, boots crunching against the dry, cracked earth. Warriors in formation, each squad divided by skill: sword-wielders, archers, shield-bearers. Atlas rode at the front, his twin swords hanging at his sides, and close by, Portilla and Crushir flanked him, their eyes scanning the horizon, always alert. He'd decided this was the best role for them—keeping them by his side, where he could trust their protection.
“Stay close, alright?” Atlas murmured, giving a quick glance to both.
Portilla puffed her chest out. “We got you!” she declared.
Crushir grunted in agreement, his grip tightening on his weaponas his gaze darted from side to side.
Behind them, Alexander led the front-line warriors. His great sword rested against his shoulder as he barked out orders, dividing the squads into their assigned roles. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. ‘Yeehaw, this’ll be like the playoffs.‘
“Archers, fall back!” Alexander shouted, voice booming with authority. “Sword-bearers, spread wide!”
In the middle ranks, Isabella kept her sharp gaze on the soldiers manning the defensive line, ensuring each squad maintained a strong perimeter. “Keep your formations!” she ordered. “Stay sharp, keep the defenses tight!”
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John, further back with the porters, ensured supplies were organized and ready for any sudden shift in the march. His eyes, though quiet, saw everything. He coordinated the messengers, who darted between the front and back lines to keep communication flowing.
“Morale’s holding steady,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Atlas better give them another speech soon.”
***
As if on cue, Atlas rose slightly in his saddle, raising his voice to carry over the marching army. “We’re close to reaching our fallback point!” he shouted. “If we’re attacked, remember the plan—fall back to the ridge, use the cover, and hold your ground! We fight as one!” Ever since the hunters of Fort Bone had started killing mobs around the area, they had been mapping out the wasteland around Fort Bone. And that map had been passed along to Atlas, before the march occurred.
A few warriors cheered in response, gripping their weapons tighter. They moved with purpose, even though the steady pace of such a large group made it clear they were were ready for anything.
Portilla glanced up at Atlas with a sly grin. “We gonna fight soon, right?”
Atlas chuckled. “Hopefully not too soon.”
Crushir cracked his knuckles. “Soon’s good.”
The mini fairies, who fluttered around overhead, chimed in with their usual excited repetition, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Their high-pitched voices were amusing , keeping the troops focused.
As the sun began to dip lower, the army prepared for its next rotation. Guard shifts were swapped, and the squads settled into a routine. The weight of an impending battle hung in the air, but for now, they marched on, steady and strong.
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