I landed and tripped my camoptics as I tucked into a dark corner. Blending in with the shadows, I wasn’t too worried about the Nevs tripping over me. Still, you can never be too careful when you are sitting on top of a hostile anthill. I made sure no patrols would trip on me or bump into the bulk of my armor. Then I leaned over the edge of the parapet and watched the trucks trundle to a halt in the narrow barbican courtyard.

“Guards are pulling the newts out,” I relayed to Rav and Brain on the outside.

“Think we’ll bag any tonight?” Strider asked in his quiet whisper of a voice.

I cocked my head and looked to where my armor told me he crouched. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there. “If our intel is spot we’ll have a group of rabbits running tonight.

“Plus, we’re sending a care package.” A grin split my face. I always loved a good hunt.

&         &         &

Nat hated him.

He stood beside her in his neatly pressed suit: middle-aged, balding, lean, nervous. Nat watched as his hands clutched at the air in front of him, she assumed the fingers held a briefcase in most instances. Now he just looked out of place.

Nat flashed a feral grin as the man noticed his twitching fingers and thrust his hands in his pockets.

“Ever wonder why the gate’s so loud?” the man stammered.

“No,” Nat’s flat retort gave the man pause.

Eyeing her with suspicion he twitched his head around, taking in the guards as they hauled the other prisoners from the transports and lined them up in the courtyard. His gaze returned to Nat. She wore nice enough clothes to fit with the middlings, but something in the cut of her jaw and the hardness of her eye, made him wary.

“I heard it’s because the noise can break a prisoner,” he rambled, turning to watch as the gates behind them screamed in agony and trundled shut. “I guess it makes the guard’s job easier.”