The rain was not enough to disturb Exris. It was inconsequential. What was a little dampness compared to his exhaustion? He thought he was deserving of a rest after all he'd been through. He leaned against the wall he had spent the last days --or had it been weeks?-- excavating. Exris let his eyes close for the first sleep since they'd arrived. 

Not that sleep was going to solve all his problems. He was shivering in the cold night rain. His hands were numb. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. Exris felt nothing, though. The past weeks'--or months'?-- hardships, injuries, and unceasing labor had taken their toll. He was ground down. A hollowed shell incapable of acting beyond the absolute necessity of drilled training and instinct. Exris felt nothing, until the wall behind him started melting.

Exris clambered to his feet, sinking into and sliding on the mud below. Behind him, the trench wall liquefied and collapsed, the rain washing away dozens of hours of work. There was nothing he could do but watch as a cascade of muck entered the trench.

Exris hated this mire. The mud was everywhere. There was no escape! His boots sank into the soft earth, soaking his socks with the petrid sludge. The walls of the trench were of no repreve, coating his clothes and caking onto his coat wherever they contacted. The rain did not help either. It eroded the trench mouth above him and let muddy silt flow down onto his head when he had tried to rest. His head was now drenched with mud and matting the fur in his face. 

Exris wiped the mud from his face and grabbed his rifle, searching for another place to rest. However, as he started to walk, his rifle began to slip out of his grip. Exris inspected his rifle, and winced. The weapon was a mess, completely unservicable. It seemed Exris would not be resting after all.

Exris hung his head in defeat as he dutifully disassembled his rifle, taking extra care in handling the small internal mechanisms as he cleaned. 

He spared a tired glance at his comrades around him; they were all asleep, unbothered by the water falling on them. Aside from their state of rest, they were no better off than he. Their armor was covered in mud and their young bodies emaciated, making the steel plates they wore fit loosely, rubbing irritantly against their bodies. Some poor souls wore their fathers armor, ill fitting to such young and skinny figures, causing their fur to thin and fall out in places of contact. Exris counted himself lucky to have had his fitted well.

Exris finished cleaning his rifle, and started reassembly. He was almost finished when the bolt carrier group rocketed out the back of rifle, shooting toward the mire below. Exris instantly swiped the wayward component from the air, catching it before it could hit the ground. Exris let out a sign of relief as he resumed reassembly, albeit with much more care. He inserted the bolt carrier group once more, but quickly realized it wasn't seating properly. After a few more tries, he pulled the assembly out and looked it over closely. He pulled the bolt away from the carrier, expecting the locking lugs to rotate, but finding them static instead. Exris looked at the bolt face, and his heart sank.

The firing pin was gone.

He slowly, deliberately looked over his work area, hoping to find it resting atop the rifle, fallen onto his clothes or perhaps even sticking out of the mud. He would gladly reclean his entire rifle ten times over if it meant finding the missing piece.  His heart racing but maintaining composure, it became clear it wasn't immediately nearby.

Exris slung his incomplete rifle on his back and slid its parts into a pocket. Dropping to his knees, he began running his hands along the top of the cold, wet sludge, skimming in the dark for a hint of the missing pin.

 After a minute of searching, Exris knew that the chances of finding such a small pieces of critical hardware was hopeless. He sunk his hands deeper into the muck, squeezing through for any signs of rigid metal. None came. He began to widen his search area, beginning to feel the frustration, the exhaustion, pain. The futility.

The firing pin was gone.

He threw his fist into the mud with a silent roar of desperation and defeat, the filthy water splashing back up into his face, entering his angry eyes and bared mouth. The texture was enough to temper him. Just like the missing pin, he had only himself to blame. And now, due to his latest failure, he was going to get killed for certain.

Exris did not move from his sunken place as the tears welled up in his eyes. What was the point? He had proved incapable of upholding the responsibilities of a warrior, failed his comrades, and put shame to his father's name. 

His failure had brought discredit to Atsalis itself. 

When the time came, he would commit himself to be cannon fodder, a living shield at the front, so that the more capable warriors behind him could live longer. Exris let out a sign, shaking with the sudden surge of emotion, trying to regain composure. 

It didn't work. The tears started to flow, dripping down to the wet ground below. Exris couldn't tell if the others were watching, or even awake, but he still felt the same shame and humiliation as if all of Atsalis could see him now: On his knees, crying in a trench, holding a rifle that cannot shoot.

Someone began walking up to Exris, the distinct sound of boots in the wet mud closing in. Exris stood, wiping the tears from his eyes, his soaked hands smearing mud across his face. There stood a young Atsalisian, no older than himself at 16, his purple eyes shining with the only color in the dark night. He presented an open hand to Exris. In it was a perfectly clean, undamaged firing pin. 

Exris wiped off his own hands and delicately retrieved the part, beginning to reassemble his rifle.

"I was sleeping over there when it landed on me," he said quietly to Exris. "Thought it was a rock or something, until I saw you digging through the mud."

Exris closed the bolt on his now completed rifle, slung it on his back and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," Exris managed, voice still shaky. "You've saved me."

The other just gave a nod, and started to head back to his resting position.

"Wait!" Exris stopped him. He looked back, tired eyes begging to go back to sleep. "What is your name, friend?"

"Konray Relegade," he replied. "And you?"

"Exris Landager."