If only it weren't so dusty... or so hot... No, that's not a thought a mage would have. Shira looked at the girl next to her, who coughed as she marched.

"Damn dust!" the girl next to her rasped between coughs.

"Do you need a drink?" Shira asked.

"I'll be fine... ah, damn." She coughed violently. Shira let the medical wagon and the fading whitewash crosses on its sides pass her as she helped the coughing girl open her canteen. Thunder built in the distance.

"Double time!" Devon yelled to the people pushing the cart. "If it starts raining we'll never get there before the battle starts!"

Shira marched more quickly. The girl next to her looked with pursed lips at the darkening sky and squinted as a raindrop hit her forehead. Shira felt water splash her head.

"Come on! Faster!" The dirt road became speckled as the dust was splashed out of the air. Shira breathed deeply and wiped her eyelids fiercely. I need to control my thoughts. She worked to grip the growing mud with her feet. Mages don't complain. Mages don't think about themselves...

"If it isn't dust, it's mud." The girl next to Shira laughed dryly. "Whatever I did to deserve this, I'm sorry already." Their march steps thickened and slowed as the downpoar grew.

But I'm not a mage. Shira restisted the urge to curl her lips at the irony of her thoughts. I'm not ever going to be a mage. What am I doing acting like one? Shira took a few more dragging steps. But before I left, didn't my teachers tell me how noble that way of life is? But this is no School...

Someone screamed. Shira froze. When someone jostled her from behind, she ran forward, to where the cart had slid down an embankment into a patch of deep mud. An arm with a white armband stuck out from under the cart, fingers grabbing at the mud. Shira slid down the embankment and saw black hair.

Anne!

"Help me get the cart off her!" Devon yelled as he squatted into the boot-sucking muck. Shira wallowed over, sunk halfway to her knees, as he put his shoulders to the slippery wood. "Come on, help me! She'll be crushed soon!"

Shira already had wood against her arms. She shoved, her ankles straining to keep her feet solid against the softness. Her sholders shook against the wood- she was sobbing.

A dozen had slid down the muddy bank, and the cart was covered with arms and shoulders and backs.

One, two, three, shove!!"

Two dozen heels cut gouges into the mud.

The cart is sinking deeper. Sweat beaded on Shira's forehead and cheeks. It's pressing down harder on Anne every moment.

"One, two, three, shove!"

Shira felt the wagon's grain dig into her elbows as the cart creaked.

"Shove! Shove! On three..."

Wet backs tensed.

"One..."

Shira slipped and had her knees and palms against the mud.

"Two..."

The cart creaked further from Anne.

"Three!"

People groaned as Shira grabbed a muddy arm and pulled on Anne as hard as she could. The cart rose out of the mud as other arms helped her. Then Shira kneeled in the mud and held Anne in her arms and cried.