Wet carefully read the message brought by the bird, then immediately responded to it. He folded the note neatly so it would fit into the messenger’s little backpack. He felt like a complete idiot, but he politely asked:

  “May I put this in your… backpack?”

  The bird tilted its head, then graciously turned sideways so Wet could slip the roll in and tie the strap to prevent it from falling out.

  “Thank you” he said, then bowed politely.

  The bird responded with a brisk nod and then, without further delay, it headed for the exit. Wet hurried to lift the tent flap for it. Good thing he didn’t have a normal family. He could already imagine the disappointed faces of his wife and kids if he admitted that he, a soldier of the Company, a man with plenty of blood on his hands, was afraid of a damn bird – and it wasn’t even a metaphor. He was genuinely scared of the little creature, more than anyone in this entire band of murderers… Well, maybe except for the Commander. And Skin. And Slitter. And…

  Abacus was on his way to Wet’s tent when he saw the bird marching ahead. He politely stepped aside and cautiously wished it a good day. He could’ve sworn the little bastard laughed at him, but in the end, it graciously nodded its head as if to say, “Likewise.”

  “My life is a joke” he muttered quietly, continuing on his way.

  He’d heard the rumors. He preferred not to verify them, but he still felt like a complete idiot showing more respect to some feathered crap than to his own comrades.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Hey! Abacus! I’ve got something for you!” he heard Moccasin shout.

  Without stopping or even looking in his direction, Abacus shouted back:

  “Luckily for me, I don’t give a fuck.”

  And this is how we live peacefully, he thought, looking up at the blue sky.

  Talking Back looked at Echo, then shrugged.

  “I don’t know, but if I were you, I’d be careful.”

  “Careful” Echo repeated thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, he’s really gunning for you. He knows Wet will be pissed, but what’s he gonna do? Kill him for killing you? That’d weaken us, and that wouldn’t bring you back to life anyway.”“Bring back to life” Echo repeated again.

  “You know, when you do that, you sound retarded.”

  “Reta…” Echo stopped, looked at Talking Back with irritation, then replied: “For now, I’m the only one here who can set a broken bone, clean and stitch a wound properly. He won’t touch me.”

  “Not yet” Talking Back said, glancing toward Trace. “But that could change quickly.”

  “Wet would be furious.”

  “That’s what I just said. Were you even listening?” Talking Back asked, clearly annoyed.

  “Not really” Echo answered honestly. “I was watching the bird.”

  “The bird? What fucking bird…”

  He stopped when he realized which bird Echo meant. He glanced uneasily at Wet’s tent and saw Abacus entering it.

  “Holy cunt” he muttered quietly.

  “Looks like the boss remembered about us” Echo said reluctantly.

  “Shut your mouth and don’t jinx it” Talking Back hissed.

  Of course, it was already too late for such warnings, as they found out a few hours later when Wet announced firmly that they were heading towards the Commander’s squad. No one was happy, but no one was stupid enough to say it out loud.