[i]You could say that. How quaintly understated. [/i]

The Kitsune did not seem willing to share more beyond that agreement, seeming content to dwell on the crowd and whatever concerns plagued her. Celica sighed and glanced at the floating duo presiding over the students, wishing they would address them once and for all. Lily turning to speak to her was a surprise, and Celica craned her neck to face her, eyebrows raised. After the spot of silence, Celica had convinced herself the Kitsune had nothing more to say to her. 

She could excuse her. Their last encounter had not been altogether friendly, if she recalled correctly.

Still, worry had a way of loosening people’s lips, and the emotion was easy to detect in Lily’s words, if not her expression. 

Celica had to suppress a wry smile as the woman spoke, and she did her best to hide the flare of irritation she felt. [i]I don’t know what to think of you. You weren’t exactly open the last time we talked.[/i] Part of her wanted to say that out loud, but her conscience held her back. The bitterness was uncharacteristic of her, and she looked back at the Mythics to avoid Lily’s gaze. 

Sympathy or pity would have been the more appropriate response, but it seemed today she had little to spare for people other than herself.

Alice arriving when she did was a relief to Celica. She had little desire to speak about her own issues. The whole point of seeking out Lily had been to dwell on someone else’s concerns instead of her own. Still, she shook her head, giving Alice a dark look.  “Don’t bring their families into this. It’s not the mindset I need.” 

The Endolans would be butchered like the animals they were. That was all that bore thinking of. Moral repercussions could wait until after the dust settled. Or shelved indefinitely. She had more reason to think in those lines than most other students. She was damned if she would feel an ounce of pity for any who got in their way. 

It was easy to tell herself that. If the words rang hollow, she needed only repeat them until they did not.

It was then that the Mythics chose to address the congregation. Celica gladly turned away from the others as the speeches rolled in. Sylphide did not say anything those gathered did not know. Perhaps some found reassurance in having the basics of their situation outlined for them. Perhaps some would be inspired by her encouragement. 

Celica did not need inspiration. She needed direction.

Commander Jones obliged. A completely different aura than Sylphide’s own, Celica and the others hurried to obey his command as he stood before them. In some manner, the man’s words echoed Sylphide’s own speech, but the words did not matter. What mattered was the conviction. The volume. Celica found herself adding her voice to the cheer that filled the Commander’s pause before they were given their instructions. 

To those, she paid close attention.

[hr]

The pistol felt oddly weightless as she turned it on her hands, carefully studying the weapon from every angle. A strange sight for most Shifters, the weapon woefully inadequate when compared to the destructive power most of them could issue forth, and indeed she noticed the flicker of eyes at the corners of her vision, the gun  collecting a few stray looks from the students kneeling near her resting place. 

She paid them no heed, her eyes glued to the gun’s silvery metal. Here and there she noticed a few scratches, many of them in the barrel and nose, earned from rough handling in sparring. Others, closer to the handle, seemed like small grooves had been cut into the metal, where the tips of her fingers would commonly rest.

Her eyes went beyond the weapon to the hand that held it. She had shifted when they had been given orders to deploy to the ambush point, and the hands that held her weapon aloft were more akin to a clawed gauntlet than a proper hand. She brought one hand up, close to her uncovered eye and moved her fingers ever so slowly. The segments of the gauntlet moved as would her normal fingers, but she could hear the subtle sound of ice cracking underneath as the solid moved. 

She felt nothing above her elbow.

Celica shivered, feeling a cold that had nothing to do with the power she had summoned. As long as she could return to her human form, she would never get used to it. But it had been long enough for her to learn how to put it out of her mind. A clear signal that she was doing little else but looking to distract her from the pit of apprehension in her stomach.

It was as if only now she had paused to consider not only what they were planning to do, but what could happen to her. She had been too angry, too focused on repaying old debts, on venting her worries through violence. The possibility that she might not make it out alive was present, but muted. A minor detail. She knew what she had signed up for. But now that it was coming, hiding behind the next mountain, or the one after that, she finally realized that this was not just another spar.

Dwelling on it made her feel almost physically ill, and she hated herself for it. 

So she looked up from where she was sitting towards the direction where their enemies were supposed to be coming from. Nothing caught her eye. She would have expected the Endolan fliers to have come into view by now, some forward scouts, at least, but there were only mountains and broken terrain as far as the eye could see. It could be that they were hidden by magic, as they were.

Though, as far as she was concerned, their group seemed to have remained as visible as ever. Their illusion casters had likely shielded them from the view of those outside a certain radius. Whether the illusion masked sound, she did not know, and those gathered under the spell did not seem eager to test it. They simply waited. 

Celica grimaced, and checked the pistol’s ammunition, as she had done several times in the last minute. A light blue dot was visible on its base. Reinserting the magazine, she stood up and began walking through the transformed students, bizarre echoes of folklore and mythology from all over the world wherever she looked. She thought of seeking out Alice or Charles, or perhaps Lily, but instead, she found herself making her way to the edge of the camp on her lonesome, hoping to get a better view of the valley below.