An hour passed without another metallic thud or angry bellow from below. The suffocating silence of the forest crept back in.
"Do you think we should head back now?" Henry asked, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.
Even in the pitch black, he could feel the deadpan look Recruit 1 gave him. Surprisingly, when she answered, the usual sharp edge of condescension was gone.
"There's no way we'll find the lodge in this darkness. Our zig-zagging knocked us completely off the marked path. We'll have to hike back to the stream at first light and retrace our steps."
The mention of the stream triggered a dry ache in Henry's throat. He had dropped his waterskin on the bank right before the bull charged.
"We stay here for the night," she continued. "Unfortunately, there are plenty of dangerous things in this forest that can climb, so we have to pull watch shifts. Do you want to swap every three hours, or take one long six-hour shift each?"
"One shift," Henry replied instantly.
"Alright. I'll take first watch. Rest."
Before Henry could even attempt the tough task of getting comfortable on a hard branch eighty feet in the air, Recruit 1 reached beneath her light armor. She pulled out a small, personal canteen and held it out in the dark.
"Here. You can have the rest of it."
Henry took it. It was still half full. Driven by a punishing thirst, he drained it in seconds before rationality could catch up. He lowered the empty metal flask, a brief flash of guilt quickly smothered by overwhelming gratitude. "Thank you."
Despite the precarious drop and the stinging blisters on his hands, exhaustion won. Henry slept soundly until a gentle hand shook his shoulder around midnight.
His six-hour watch was excruciatingly boring, spent staring into the impenetrable blackness of the canopy, but after the absolute chaos of the day, he welcomed the monotony.
When pale morning light finally filtered through the leaves, Henry nudged her arm, returning the same gentle wake-up she had given him.
"Hey. Wake up. It's time to move."
She didn't groan or shift sluggishly. Her eyes snapped open, and within a second, she was sitting upright, completely lucid and hyper-alert, a clear hallmark of deeply ingrained conditioning.
The shared near-death experience, combined with the quiet isolation of the canopy, gave Henry the confidence to finally ask the question that had been on his mind.
"Hey, 1... how come you know so much?" Henry asked. "About the forest, building the lodge... everything."
She didn't shut him down. She stared out into the awakening forest, her expression thoughtful.
"My father," she said quietly. "Well, my adoptive father. I don't know who my real parents are. He trained me from a very young age. Taught me exactly what I'd need to know to become an elite member of the King's Border Force. The elites on the border get better funding and more operational freedoms than the regular army, but that's only because our assignments are infinitely more dangerous."
Pieces suddenly snapped into place in Henry's mind. The suspiciously large quarters back at Fort Hope. The shockingly high-quality rations and perfectly balanced training swords. It was all significantly better than what raw recruits should have been receiving. They weren't just being trained; they were being forged for the deadliest frontier in the kingdom.
A strange warmth settled in his chest at her willingness to open up, but he knew better than to push his luck and risk rebuilding the ice wall between them. He let the revelation sit, offering only an appreciative nod.
"That explains it," Henry said softly. He gripped the trunk, preparing for the treacherous climb down. "Let's head back to the stream. I hope my waterskin is still sitting where I dropped it."
The descent was twice as agonizing as the climb. Gravity tugged mercilessly at Henry's exhausted muscles, and his raw, blistered hands screamed in protest with every rough handhold. By the time his boots finally hit the damp earth of the forest floor, his arms were visibly trembling.
Neither of them spoke. They moved through the early morning mist with slowness, their swords drawn and their heads constantly on a swivel.
After the overwhelming terror of the Metal-Mana Mooses, Hope Forest felt infinitely more hostile. Every shifting shadow looked like a towering silhouette; every snapped twig echoed like the crack of metallic hooves.
But luck, for once, was on their side. The woods remained quiet, and no shining antlers burst from the underbrush.
The faint babble of water eventually cut through the tense silence, guiding them back to the steep embankment. Henry scrambled down the muddy slope, his eyes urgently scanning the bank until he spotted a familiar patch of dark leather. His waterskin was sitting exactly where he had abandoned it during the ambush.
He scooped it up, rinsed the river mud from the exterior, and submerged it in the stream. He watched the air bubbles rise to the surface as the icy, rushing current filled it to the brim. Twisting the cap on tight, he forced himself to ignore his lingering thirst, remembering the very real threat of getting sick from unboiled water.
Recruit 1 took the lead once more, her sharp eyes scanning the massive trunks of the red giants. Finding the first shallow hatchet mark she had carved into the bark the day before felt like grabbing a lifeline.
Moving with quiet, urgent purpose, they followed the trail of scarred wood uphill, navigating the forest floor until the sloping, leaf-covered roof of their fortified lodge finally appeared through the trees.
When they finally reached the entrance, they found the doorway firmly barricaded from the inside.
"7, open up. It's us," Henry called out, his voice hoarse.
"Thank god," Recruit 7's muffled voice echoed from the other side. "I was losing my mind alone in here all night. I actually called for help on your behalf, but Sir Red just showed up and said you guys were fine. How did you—"
"Hurry up and unlatch the logs," Recruit 1 interrupted. The fragile, quiet warmth she had shown Henry in the canopy clearly did not extend to Recruit 7. "Whatever you want to ask can wait."
A heavy silence hung in the air before the scraping of heavy wood signaled the barricade being removed. The heavy logs were pulled back, revealing a well-rested-looking Recruit 7.
"I see a near-death experience didn't do anything to fix your shitty personality, 1," 7 grumbled, stepping back to let them inside.
She completely ignored the insult, stepping into the dim interior of the lodge. "7, go out and gather kindling. Now."
Recruit 7 rolled his eyes, a look of profound annoyance crossing his face, but the absolute, uncompromising authority in her tone brooked no argument. He pushed past them and headed out into the trees.
Recruit 1 waited until his footsteps faded completely. Then, her rigid posture relaxed just a fraction. She turned to Henry, her tone softening into something resembling actual politeness. "14, can you go gather some stones? We need to build a small fire pit in the center."
"Of course, 1," Henry replied. Walking back outside to hunt for rocks, a faint, tired smile touched his lips.
'I could definitely get used to her acting like this with me,' he thought.
He quickly returned with an armful of smooth, heavy stones, which she efficiently arranged into a tight circle directly beneath the ventilation gap at the roof's apex.
Shortly after, 7 trudged back inside, dumping a pile of dry kindling and firewood next to the makeshift fire pit.
Once a small, controlled fire was crackling, Recruit 1 reached into her seemingly bottomless supply pack and produced a medium-sized metal bowl.
"Alright. Pour your water in here to boil."
Recruit 7 stared at the shiny metal basin. "Damn, 1. Is your pack enchanted with creation magic or something? You literally have everything known to humankind in there."
Henry couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle. Knowing the truth about her upbringing made her endless preparation make sense, but it was still absurd. He uncapped his waterskin and emptied it into the bowl. Recruit 1 added the contents of her own containers, filling the metal basin three-quarters of the way to the brim.
She looked up at 7, waiting for his contribution.
Recruit 7 scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking very interested in the dirt floor. "Yeah... I drank it already."
Recruit 1 stared at him for a long, highly judgmental second, then simply shook her head and turned her attention back to the flames. She ignored him completely as the water came to a rolling boil. Once she was satisfied it was purified, she let it cool before meticulously dividing it back into her and Henry's leather containers.
Henry took a long, glorious sip. The lukewarm water tasted faintly of smoke and metal, but it felt like pure life flowing down his parched throat.
Watching them drink, 7 licked his cracked lips. "Hey, we're all a team, right? Why don't you both give me a little bit of that?"
Henry didn't say a word. He just took another slow sip, knowing exactly what was coming.
"Why would we give you our purified water?" Recruit 1 asked, her voice dripping with annoyed disbelief. "Just because you lacked the discipline to ration yours? You spent the entire night sleeping in the safety and comfort of this lodge while we were trapped in a tree out in the forest."
Recruit 7 crossed his arms and slouched against the wooden wall, pouting like a reprimanded child. "Alright, fine. Don't share. I'll just stay dehydrated for now. It's fine."
"Don't worry, 7," Recruit 1 replied dryly, capping her canteen. "You'll be having water real soon. We need food, and the easiest way to find it is to hunt near a water source. After we rest for the remainder of today, we'll head back to the stream tomorrow."
She offered him a thin, merciless smile. "There. Are you happy? Since you love unboiled water so much, tomorrow you can drink until you drown."