-30-Dead. Dead. They were all dead.They bolted past bodies littered on the ground as Valor galloped on the grass with Mark atop the horse.They were all dead. And it was his fault.He should have stopped them. Should have never let them go.But regret was a luxury afforded only to the living.-Mark sank his hands into the bucket and splashed his face with water. He repeated it, stood and stared at the mirror.How long had it been since he arrived at the barricade? A few weeks? A month? Two months? He lost count.His face was already worse for wear, rougher than his days in the farms. Shadows encircled his eyes, he'd lost enough weight that his cheekbones jutted from his skin. His hair fell to his ears, mixed with grey strands between the black, even more prominent than he remembered.Today was another day at the barricade. Mark rested his head against the mirror, pulled his head back and planted it on the mirror, again, and then again.He straightened, wiped his face with his cloth and left the bathroom-Mark sat on his bed as he sank his foot - and his trousers - in his boot. He tightened the laces and tied them, then repeated with his other foot.Sord was staring at him from the entrance to their tent, dressed and ready."Where you headed today kid?" He said.Mark stood and tucked his shirt in his pants, then grabbed his waist belt from the bed and buckled it around his pants."Rangers. I'm helping them out again." Mark replied.That is, if he could even consider what he did as helping."Guess that's better than the sappers at least." Sord mumbled as he sighed."You seen Elk, kid? Nurses said he's been wandering 'round at night."Mark buttoned his sleeves and adjusted his shirt."I haven't. I'll head over when I'm free." Mark said.Though he didn't know when he would be free. He hadn't been free ever since the tower."Same excuse huh." Sord whispered. He lightly shook his head."Well, just know the nurses extended his stay. Something 'bout hurting his leg again. The dumbass must've tripped while walking around."Mark turned to his trunk at the bottom of his bed, where a hook-affixed rope rested atop it. He didn't remember when he last touched the thing."You ain't bringing your rope, Mark?" Sord said."No," Mark shook his head," I won't be needing it, probably.""Best be careful then, kid. Someone snoops around and figures you're playing house, chances are they snitch. Best thing after would be putting you in with the chores-folk, and I doubt they are pleasant enough to.""Here, catch." Sord said.Mark turned around and caught a flask Sord lobbed to him, and then another. Mark lowered his head and stared at them.They were wood-oil flasks, round and smooth, small enough he could hold two in one hand. A cork sealed their opening and there was a ring-like protrusion from the body to the neck where it could be hooked."Carry those with you. They ain't as clunky as a rope and they don't stink as bad." Sord said. He turned to leave the tent."Thanks, Sord." Mark replied.Sord raised his hand without turning back as his figure slowly shrunk.Mark hooked the flasks in his belt, then examined himself.He nodded and turned to leave. But the rope above his trunk caught his eye.He stared at it for a moment.It was the rope he picked up that night, when he finally dragged his shaking legs down the tower. Right next to where he expected to find a dead Elk, but Elk had already been carried off. He trudged to the rope and picked it up. Then slowly walked to their tent and didn't look back.He told neither Elk nor Sord about the rope.Mark shook his head and left the tent.-He wove through the streets and people, until he stood before the stables. Built of wood with its slanted roof covered in shingles, it was an odd building among the tents that covered most of the northern part of the barricade. The ground below was flattened, stark from the tiles that blanketed the city streets.There were three or four other stables on the north side of the barricade. This was the one next to the rangers's tent. Far north but a distance from the edge.Mark entered the stable and grabbed a brush by the door. He entered a stall where a grey-white horse with black spots was housed and started brushing the horse.The horse's back almost topped his head. He gently slid the brush on its coat, holding and patting the horse with his other hand as he did."You here again, kid?" Mark heard a voice from the entrance."Nothing else for a volunteer at daytime." Mark replied.He turned around and saw Rumdroll dressed in the ranger's uniform - a black shirt with matching trousers and boots - staring at him with grey eyes. His black hair was trimmed short and a stubble covered his chin."Keep it up and the horses will be hitched to ya." Rumdroll continued, "Can't even near them now. A whiff and they know what we do, where we go."Mark patted the horse as it stepped back and kept brushing it."Say kid, be honest, if you weren't here, where'd you be?" Rumdroll asked.Mark thought for a moment, then answered, "Digging with the sappers."Rumdroll sighed and shook his head."Why the sappers?" He asked."They're fun," Mark replied, "And they're funny."They made names for many of the people in the barricade, including the commanders or rangers like Rumdroll, joked about it and much more."It's fun? Digging holes that fill the next day? Everyday?""Not all of them fill that quick," Mark said, "The shallow ones don't.""It's the same thing if they still fill, kid." Rumdroll sighed, "At least they lost their explosives for now."He stared at Mark brushing the horse with his arms crossed."Kid, how long you repeating this?" He asked."Hm? Repeating what?" Mark replied as he raised an eyebrow."Coming to the stables and grooming the horses." Rumdroll said."Don't know, maybe for a while. You'll drag me back if I cross the boxes again anyway .""Don't pretend you won't kid. I know you join them when I'm not watching." Rumdroll held a palm to his forehead.He continued, "Well, if you wanna cross the boxes, best you do it safe.""What does that mean?" Mark stared at Rumdroll with his eyes squinted and brows creased."You can ride a horse, kid?" Rumdroll asked.Mark nodded."Here's the thing," Rumdroll said, "Our head's injured himself, he can't ride and we dunno when he'll heal. We're too stretched thin to lose even one ranger. We need to fill our numbers."He continued, "You can ride his horse and play our extra ranger. We'll pair you up with another until we think you'll be fine alone.""The horse'll keep you safe and you get to cross the boxes."Mark listened intently to Rumdroll."The catch," He said, "You can't wear the uniform. Don't know what the commanders'll say 'bout a volunteer making ranger. Can't risk it. Anyone asks, you tell 'em you're the head's aide."
"And you won't be scouting at night. Can't risk it. Riding alone'll be enough of a toll on ya."
"So, you interested?" He asked.Mark stared at the ground as he thought, then raised his head and looked at Rumdroll."What's the horse's name?" He asked.Rumdroll smirked as he stared at Mark."The head named him Valor. Head to the plateau stable tomorrow at first light." He raised a hand then turned and left the stable."Valor." Mark uttered.It was among the few ranger horses he knew, and the only one that stays in a stable. It was as big if not bigger than Boulder, with white-brown patches covering its coat.'Maybe it won't be so bad.' Mark thought.He heard a snort and quickly patted the horse he was brushing."Sorry." Mark said.If he was to frequent the woods, the other horses would avoid him as well.He decided to groom all of them that day.