Steppo shifted his weight, mindful of making too much noise. He was crouching against the base of a thin birch tree, half leaning against the smooth trunk. To his left, Lain's breath came in shuddering gusts, but the man might otherwise have been made of stone. Steppo didn't know how he managed not to bolt upright and curse at painfully stiffening joints, while he himself could barely sit entirely still.

The truth was that he wasn't built for stakeouts. He longed to be out and about, to make things happen, and he had a very difficult time reconciling himself to the fact that, in some cases, waiting was just the activity he needed to perform.

"Do you think we should have timed the teams?" whispered Lain.

Steppo shook his head and peered at the shadow of the nearest oak, which seemed to be housing a silent brown-clad soldier, but the man slipped along behind a row of scraggly bushes before Steppo could identify him.

"There's no need to increase the pressure when this is only supposed to be an exercise. We'll just give them another few minutes and then call a general assembly."

They hunkered down in silence once again, but millions of worrying thoughts clambered in Steppo's already overzealous mind. He struggled to shut out all the "what ifs" and focus on the facts. Over the past few hours, the realization had come to him that this wouldn't be just a test for the Liberty Pies and Pools troops - their skills, teamwork, tracking, and crisis management capabilities - but for Steppo himself as a would-be leader. It pained him that he couldn't be by their sides, sharing in their difficulties as they focused on their various missions.

Lost as he was in his own contemplations and coming dangerously close to self-pity, he nearly tumbled forward in surprise when a drawled-out huvac call sounded behind them. Now, either the population of the winged creatures had increased exponentially since last year's hunt when they'd nearly been shot out of existence, or someone else was summoning their forces.

Steppo turned to meet Lain's bewildered gaze.

"Do you think we've been caught?" whispered the older man.

"Let's not assume the worst." Even though Steppo had meant to sound calm, there was no hiding a slight tremor in his voice, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was actually trying to convince himself. "There's likely been some significant development and we need to be informed at once."

The other man gave a curt nod, then turned to grab the only red uniform they'd managed to win so far. The half-drunken sod the garment had originally belonged to had, for some unexplained reason, decided to take a swim in one of the ponds, and so his uniform had remained by the shore in plain sight, just begging for someone to wander by and reappropriate it. Mercer's squad had successfully taken on that particular mission, with their leader subsequently giving a rather modest recounting of the affair, but Steppo was nonetheless proud of them all. Even if this remained their only prize, it would have still been worth it, given that nobody had discovered them so far.

It was therefore with mounting apprehension that he followed Lain further north and deeper into the forest, guided every once in a while by sporadic huvac calls. They had ditched their position to the west of the glade about an hour into the hunt, immediately after Mercer's squad had returned with the uniform. It had become clear at that point that the group of fake fishing assistants didn't pose a real threat. Since the reports of the lookouts had indicated that they carried no weapons and seemed to have generally given up on whatever mission they had been tasked with, the focus of the Liberty troops had moved entirely to the northern edge of the glade, where the main camp was secreted. The majority of the squads had elected to try stealing a uniform from those soldiers in the first place, so it made sense for Steppo, Lain, and the rest to follow them and closely monitor the situation. The two teams of lookouts they'd left behind should have been able to cover any unforeseen circumstances.

"Over here," hissed a voice from behind an uprooted oak, and both Steppo and Lain stopped at once. They veered off their original course to walk around the fallen tree, and were greeted by the welcome sight of about a dozen of their members crouched along the gentle incline of a mossy knoll.

Steppo caught Addi's eye, who gestured for them to approach the makeshift gathering of squad leaders at the center. Lain handed the captured uniform to Steppo, then knelt by a small group next to a couple of boulders, where his brother-in-law huddled along with the rest of Murg's squad. They were soon in the midst of a heated discussion, and Steppo turned to focus on the group who had called him over.

"What have we got?" he asked hopefully, glancing from Addi to Murg and then to Batema, the young man sitting cross-legged across from him. He was one of Fern's most trusted apprentices, and a good friend of the twins, although one wouldn't be able to tell, given how often they bickered.

"These," said Batema with a grin, reaching behind him to pull out three reddish uniforms.

Steppo nearly whistled in admiration before remembering himself and curbing his enthusiasm. He held out Mercer's uniform and smiled approvingly.

"Very well done," he congratulated.

"You may be less willing to say that when you hear how it was actually done," snickered Addi. "Truly an exploit worthy of going down in history."

"This is how wars are won, my friend," retorted Batema. "Going by the book will never get you far enough. In fact, the only rule a soldier should have is that it is his duty to do whatever it takes to win."

"Agreed," nodded Steppo. "Now don't let me assume the worst and kindly share the secret."

Addi was practically bouncing at this point, and there was a wicked glint in Batema's eyes.

"We caught them with their pants down!"

Steppo blinked, refusing to register that particular image.

"Another way to put it," intervened Murg, "is that we intruded on a couple of moments of solitude and took advantage of the situation."

"We were generous, too, and let them finish afterwards," added Batema. "In fact, I'm sure we helped along a couple of cases of constipation."

"And the men?" asked Steppo with bated breath.

Murg shrugged.

"Prisoners. We've asked Dallan and his squad to lead them back to the wagons."

"But that's a problem for when the hunt is finished," said Addi, grinning from ear to ear. "We've got our way in, Speaker!"

"Now we were thinking of taking some measurements," said Murg, unfolding one of the reddish shirts and holding it up against his own broad chest. "There's no point in asking for volunteers if the disguises don't fit."

"This one's yours, Chief," said Batema, proceeding to throw an entire bundle at Steppo, who barely caught it before it smacked him in the face. "That guy was taller, and we figured it'd fit you."

Steppo shook out the vest and inspected it carefully. He then lowered in enough to catch Batema's sharp gaze.

"So my choice has already been made for me?"

Batema smirked.

"We can't have our leader entirely idle, Chief. What'll the troops think?"

"We should have asked him first," hissed Addi, casting a worried glance at Steppo.

"Hey, Murg," called Batema, pointedly ignoring his colleague, "I think this is for you."

Murg carefully folded the uniform he'd been examining and set it aside, then reached to take Batema's proffered set.

"I think you're right," he muttered after a cursory examination. "Have Mercer try it on as soon as he returns."

"You're not coming?" asked Addi incredulously.

"Oh no," chuckled Murg, shaking his head. "My brother will have my hide if I take his spot." He then glanced meaningfully at Steppo. "He's made his wish to accompany you quite clear."

Steppo cleared his throat and started the laborious process of standing up again on trembling legs. He'd been training himself for this ever since he'd first entered the Academy as a boy what felt like a lifetime ago. He'd faced far more daunting challenges during his short stint at the front line of the Havidrem border in the north, while here, the enemy was most likely not even aware of his existence.

The only difference was that it wasn't just him he needed to worry about now. Even without an official anointment, he considered himself responsible for his "pupils" on this training expedition turned actual mission. If even one of the men fell or was captured, he knew he'd bear the blame for the rest of his life.

To mask the tremor running through his joints, he set about unfolding the uniform with brisk, jerky motions. The material was sturdy and thick - not the best of quality, but not likely to tear either. As he unbuttoned his dress shirt, the single most unpleasant realization he'd ever had entered his mind: he had actually begun to feel a modicum of respect for his father who, even while never having fought directly on the frontline, had commanded armies both as active officer and War Minister. In addition to that, as far as Steppo could tell following their frequent interactions at the Sebek household, the men slept soundly at night and didn't appear haunted by past mistakes, accidents, or tragedies.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled up the chafing red pants. If being a good commander meant giving up one's humanity one piece at a time in order to adapt to the realities of war, how much time needed to pass before he turned absolutely soulless? Was that a sacrifice he was even willing to make?

He hadn't come anywhere close to a satisfying conclusion by the time he finished lacing the heavy leather combat boots and donned the jacket with its overlong sleeves. He was rolling them up when Mercer landed face-down in the middle of their group, huffing with the force of his father's most colossal bellows.

"I told you to take it easy with mother's dumplings," scolded Murg, tossing the chosen uniform on top of his brother's heaving back.

"Why don't you," panted Mercer, "do us all a favor and run screaming into the enemy camp to distract them? You'll lead them on a merry chase while making it easier for the rest of us."

"This is the thanks I get for saving you a spot on this mission? Give that uniform back right now."

Batema had just wiggled his way into his new shirt without unbuttoning it. As soon as his head popped back up, he grinned at the man still sprawled on the forest floor.

"Is that why you're making those indecent noises, my friend? They chased you hard and you wanted to keep your virtue intact?"

Mercer lifted both hands for the sole purpose of gesturing suggestively at Batema, which caused the other man to chuckle.

"We almost ran into a group of hunters," he explained as he started picking himself back up. "They were on the trail, but we managed to steal their prey away."

Just then, Steppo caught sight of Mercer's squad mates, who were caging in a group of three chickens to prevent them from getting away.

Addi was now practically beaming at Steppo's side.

"Dinner!"

Batema groaned.

"More responsibility," he grumbled. "Didn't you find another uniform?"

"No luck," said Mercer, shaking his head. He then unfolded his own disguise and set about dressing up.

"How do you want to go about this, Chief?" asked Batema, who was just about finished with his.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steppo noticed the other groups around them settling down and cutting their own discussion short in order to stare at their leadership. Lain got up and started walking towards them, while the rest remained silent.

"We split up in pairs," he decided. "I wouldn't want any of us going in alone, but I don't want to risk a larger group either."

"Sensible," muttered Murg.

When Lain stopped a few paces away, Steppo held out the last uniform. "It might be a little large, but give it a try."

Lain accepted the clothes without comment. Meanwhile, Mercer was having significant trouble shaking his pants off. He paused to glance between Batema and Steppo.

"I'll go with Lain," he said. "You guys should set off."

Batema nodded and whirled around, not bothering to wait for Steppo. The latter smiled encouragingly at a blatantly nervous Addi before turning to follow.