| Subject: Rampage North- Ch. 4 (Part 2) |
Author:
Conder, AA
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Date Posted: 05:21:32 06/23/07 Sat
Puroc decided in the end that he couldn't attend Private Statigo's burial service. This was probably because he was collapsed and sobbing on his desk. Now that he didn't have to put up a front for his soldiers, the ferret had stumbled into his personal tent, threw his helmet on the ground and slumped into his chair, dejected at the loss of such a promising, closely related young beast before the primary battles hadn't even begun. As most of his mind wracked itself over the death of one person, another part of it sadly reflected that if this was how he reacted to one casualty, he'd probably lose his mind in the aftermath of the upcoming assault. It was amazing that he even got to be a leader in the first place just by promising a steady supply of sustenance, protection from warring vermin clans and education to boot. Not every typical so-called "vermin" knew the difference between the words "liable" and "libel," let alone possessed literacy at all. This laborious process of teaching his army how to hone their inherent intellectual potential ended up giving each individual soldier a close bond with their leader and their peers, but it meant that when one of them died, it was all the more regrettable. If it weren't for the forces pushing them northward, for that matter, Puroc might have even considered a life of peace.
At this point, the Commander realized how mentally sidetracked he was getting, took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. He had neglected to remove any armor, save his helmet, when he entered his tent, and finally the ferret realized how completely exhausted he was, and how much he was roasting in his thermally conductive steel platemail. Puroc stood up and went through the motions to take off his armor on muscle memory only, letting his mind stray to the day's other affairs. Trying to push the death of Private Statigo to the back of his thoughts as much as he could while unbuckling his gauntlets, he decided it would be constructive to contemplate the resource situation. Munitions were in good supply, water was practically unlimited, food was coming in at a reasonably constant rate and firewood was extremely easy to acquire with the trees tightly packed around them. The only variable suffering was morale, and there wasn't much he could do about that since... No, don't think about that. You already cried your eyes out over it, now focus on something that'll actually help. And besides, you're taking off your greaves already. Just relax now, maybe get some rest. You already put up the "Do not disturb" icon on your tent door, why not lie down?
Puroc reclined on his moderately thick, padded bed. Actually, to help stay on the level of his troops, he used the exact same bedding and mattress type as they did, which actually was of reasonably good quality. Smiling contentedly at the sudden pleasure of pressure on something other than metal, Puroc ran a paw down his short-sleeved shirt and decided to indulge in the simple pleasure of taking it off. He sat up, managed to take it off with just one paw (not an easy feat) and flung it apathetically across the tent. Commander Puroc could nearly see the heat radiating off his body, his closely cut dark gray fur providing barely any insulation and letting him cool down relatively quickly. The ferret gazed down at his weary body, ribs just barely visible underneath his musculature and his slightly figure-hugging and unobtrusive shorts giving way to his bare, sturdy shins and rugged, perpetually enduring feet. Did this exceptional body really belong to someone so easily disheartened by a single, premature casualty?
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