its paw and went dead to the world.
“Did you kill it?” Roge asked, as he slowly approached the animal, but Lio grabbed him as the head came up one last time, growled and then dropped again.
“No, it’s drugged,” she told him. “Let’s get the dead man away from it while we can. This is a big animal, no idea how long the drug will last. Hopefully it will be hours.”
The man was heavier than she thought. He was tall, with long legs, a prerequisite to being a rider. She herself was over six feet but it was her long legs that helped in grabbing and staying on the lobo. It was why they had recruited her.
The three of them dragged the dead rider from under the wing of his beast into the clearing. Lio examined him. He had part of an arrow sticking out of his breast plate. Damn, she thought, they must have been flying low but then the riders weren’t expecting natives with titianum arrowheads. Tears fell down her cheeks as she said the squadron’s prayer; it was the same prayer she said at Lissy’s grave. Larson joined in, bowing his head in respect.
They dragged the man to the river and down to their encampment then onto a clearing about a half mile away. It was big enough for a helicopter. She dug a D button out of her shoulder pocket, activating it as she placed it on his arm. As they walked back to camp, Lio pressed her collar, Captain Allen answered himself, “Yes, Lio?”
“We discovered a dead lobo rider. He was killed by an arrow to his chest. They must have been flying low. I don’t recognize him, he must be stationed out of Fort Unsa. I put a discovery button on him.”
“Damn. Alright, I’ll inform Fort Unsa, they’ll find him. What about his bird?” he asked.
“His animal,” she sharply reminded Allen that it wasn’t a bird, “is back in a clearing. I’ll take care of it tonight.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” was all he said, knowing her history. “Anything on the natives?”
Omomo didn’t want to tell him of her native disguise, he’d only have to discipline her for being out of uniform, so she just told him she was getting a rumor of a “King”.
“Good work, I’ll report it,” Allen said as the Captain buzzed off.
Back at their camp, to her surprise, Roge and Larson had been busy catching their supper. Six large fish lay by the campfire. She looked at the fish and grabbed one. Lio went to the lobo, it was still sound asleep. The former rider laid the large fish on the beast’s paws in front of its long snout. It didn’t make a move. Omomo left it.
Back at camp, they tried to share their fish but she felt guilty and instead ate her rations. Lio wasn’t much hungry anyway. They took turns at guard duty. She relieved Larson early as her dreams were too dark.
Early morning, while the four soldiers were eating their ration breakfast, she went again to the lobo. It was awake but groggy. The fish was gone, the lobo must have eaten. She threw some of her bacon jerky in front of the massive head. A long hiss with open jaws greeted her.
Lio sat for a while, just sitting. The animal could have attacked her but it didn’t. The lobo looked totally confused, going in a small circle as if looking for its master. Soft whines came from deep within the animal’s chest. Her heart ached. Lissy would whine when she was sad. Gasping for breath, her grief hurt, her chest constricted, tears flowed down her face. “I know,” she cried, “I know.”
The lobo looked at the former rider and started to hiss but then stopped, flopping down on the ground. The beast put its head under its wing. It wouldn’t look at her, no matter what Lio did. Finally, giving up, the lieutenant left the grieving animal. Her ears could hear the small whines of the beast as she left the clearing.
The day was spent scouting up and down the river. They would watch the villages from afar. Each village was only occupied by women. Lio guessed the men were down river in Stousa. Later, as the team ate around the fire, the men had caught another batch of fish; she reported her findings to Captain Allen. He gave her no news. Tomorrow they would head back to Camp Bolk. Omomo would kill the lobo in the morning. The depth of her sorrow was so deep, she turned away from the other four soldiers not wanting to arouse pity from them.
She faced the river with the campfire behind her. “Lieutenant!” it was Roge. “Lieutenant!” the urgency from his voice brought her quickly around. Just outside the campfire glow was the lobo. The four soldiers had their rifles trained on it.
“Stand down!” the lieutenant ordered them. She heard Larson undo his safety, she jumped him. He went down hard, his rifle discharging into the air. She picked him up and slapped him hard, shaking him, “I told you to stand down!”
He staggered backward, “You should kill it! You know you should!” He half cried, “It’s not Lissy!”
His whining stopped her from hitting him again. “Listen Larson, I know it’s not Lissy but it’s a feeling being. Let’s give it a chance!” She walked over to the lobo. It was crouched down looking from side to side, the firelight dancing on its long nose. It did not sneer at her, instead it rolled over and put its paws in the air; a sign of submission. Lio was flabbergasted.
The former rider walked over to the left over fish and got her half-eaten piece. She threw it to the beast. The lobo caught it in its large jaws. The beast then proceeded to eat it. “It’s hungry.” She went and got some of her jerky rationing and threw that. The animal ate every bit.
For a long time, Lio just sat and watched it. The crackling of the fire lay behind her. The four soldiers rolled up in their bedrolls. Lio would take first watch. As Omomo walked the camp perimeter, the lobo walked behind her, keeping its distance but keeping her in sight. Although it annoyed her that people called the lobo a bird, the former rider could understand why. The lobo looked like a giant ostrich but without feathers. It had a leathery hide. The beast had two long sturdy legs that ended in half paws, half claws. The animal, however, had live births, not eggs and ate everything humans did. Extremely intelligent, loyal to its masters, the flying lobo had proven the weapon needed in the thick forest where helicopters and hovers could not go.
When Roge took his turn, Lio lay on her bedroll, the lobo lay nearby. The former rider dreamed of flying. Lio soared above the trees, deep in the forest until sunset headed her home. When the Lieutenant awoke she was sleeping in the wing pit of the lobo, its wing wrapped over her. She jumped up, scaring the beast as it too snapped up, shaking its wings.
Both Larson and Roge were looking strangely at her. “How did you manage that?” Larson asked. Golip and Lockset just openly gawked.
“I have no idea,” Lio truthfully answered them. She felt the nose of the lobo poke her. Turning around Omomo rubbed the beast’s long snout. The red eyes looked down at her. Lio saw sadness, just like her own. It’s half a lobo, she thought, I’m half a human. It knows.
They returned to Camp Bolk. The lobo trailed behind them, lopping along on its two legs. Lobos were graceful when in the air; on the ground they were awkward and clumsy.
On the hike back, the five of them had seen no natives. When Lio entered the main camp, it caused quite a stir. Many of the soldiers had probably seen a lobo and its rider up above but none had seen one at close range. The size alone dazzled; the animal towered twelve feet high. Although it was a mammal, the lobo’s bones were hollow and even though it had a rubbery hide, it did not have an overly large fat mass or it would not be able to fly.
Captain Allen met them before long, obviously having heard. “You should have celled in, given me a heads up Lt. Lio.”
“Yes, sir.” She was tired and hungry. “We were trying to hurry to get here, Sir.”
“What are we going to do with this thing?” he asked her. “Can you ride it?”
“No. I’d like to return it to Fort Unsa. It’s their property,” she told him. “It’s their very expensive property,” she reminded him.
He finally agreed, giving her a large transport which Larson volunteered to drive, leaving her with the lobo tied down in the back. It took over four hours to reach the flying squad’s base. Lio was busy keep
ing the animal calm and quiet. The lobo listened to her, resting its large head on her lap. The former rider kept stroking the animal’s nose. Larson had the radio up loud, Lio was glad - it kept her from having to talk to him through the back window.
It was near sunset when the transport truck pulled into the camp. When the lieutenant stepped out with the lobo, she was immediately surrounded. Everyone knew the beast. “That’s Moira,” she heard over and over again, as the soldiers stood waiting for someone in charge.
She didn’t have to wait long, an impressive man dressed in the Blue/White uniform of the White Winged riders approached and all cleared a path for him. “Are you the one who found Jim Haell?’
She presumed that was the dead rider. “Yes, he had an arrow in his chest and was lying next to his lobo. I had to tranquilize his beast and we removed him. I put the D button on him for you to find.
“Aren’t you Captain Omomo? You just lost your ride last year. No wonder you know how to handle Moira. This lobo is extremely high strung.”
“She fought us at first, Sir, but I fed her fish and she finally ate.” The lobo nudged her, bringing its muzzle close to her face - a sign of affection.
“Amazing! I’m General Kitcus,” he told her. Meanwhile a young private had come running up. Lio was guessing the private was the handler, just like Larson