Grub remained seated, his posture deliberately loose, his presence carefully dulled. He had learned early on that being unnoticed was not about disappearing completely—it was about becoming just another part of the background, something the mind registered but did not question. His gaze drifted lazily across the camp, never settling too long in one place, yet quietly absorbing everything. Even now, surrounded by movement and unfamiliar noise, his mind was working, cataloguing, comparing, adjusting what he thought he knew with what he was now seeing up close.
He noticed the shift before he saw it. A presence approached and stopped just within his peripheral vision. It stood its ground long enough to demand acknowledgment. Slowly, without snapping his attention upward too quickly, Grub lowered his eyes.
A bowl had been placed in front of him.
Inside were insects of various kinds—layered and piled together and covered in some sauce Grub couldn't discenrn. Some were hard-shelled and dark, others softer and pale, a few still glistening faintly as though freshly prepared. There was a smell to it, a slightly bitter but earthy at the same time, not entirely unpleasant. It was simply… different.
Grub stared at it for a moment with a confused look. He would eat it if he had to. He had seen worse looking food before, far worse, but that didn't mean he preferred it. There was a brief hesitation because of his instinctive rejection. He suppressed it almost immediately.
The lizard sat beside him and was uncomfortably close, maybe these lizards didn't know what personal space was. Or maybe this one was just annoying. The lizard—ignoring Grub's annoyed—look spoke to him. Its voice carrying an easy tone, something that sounded like a simple question rather than a demand.
Grub caught only fragments of the sound, but the rhythm was familiar enough. A question. Likely about him.
Grub didn't respond. Instead, he repeated the same motion he had used before, raising his hand toward his mouth and opening it slightly as if to demonstrate the absence of sound. His expression shifted just enough to suggest mild frustration, as though this was a limitation he had long since grown used to.
The lizard paused, studying him for a brief second before nodding in understanding. There was no immediate suspicion, no tension in its posture. If anything, there was acceptance.
"Tre'yon." The lizard tapped his chest lightly as he spoke, making the meaning clear even without full comprehension.
Grub gave no response beyond a slight acknowledgment, but Tre'yon didn't seem bothered by his lack of audience. If anything, he seemed content to carry the interaction alone.
He began speaking again, this time more casually, continuing a conversation that didn't require participation.
Grub listened and picked apart what he could.
"…brother…"
"…family…"
"…hard… times…"
"…debts…"
The words were incomplete, but the tone filled in the rest. There was no bitterness in it, no visible anger. It sounded like something already accepted, something that had happened and could not be changed. Grub could piece together the meaning well enough—Tre'yon and his brother had likely come here out of necessity, forced by circumstance rather than choice. It was a familiar kind of story, he thought. He wasn't quite sure why he thought so, but he felt that it was common.
Grub didn't react to it. Instead, he reached into the bowl and picked up one of the insects, examining it briefly before placing it into his mouth.
It crunched between his teeth, the shell breaking cleanly. A moment later, a softer texture followed, along with a faint burst of liquid. He paused instinctively, analyzing the taste, the texture, the reaction of his body.
It wasn't bad. Strange, but not unpleasant. He ate another, then another, gradually adjusting to it. His mind briefly drifted toward the practical—whether his body would tolerate this kind of food long-term—but he recognized enough similarities to things he had consumed before. Structurally, biologically, it wasn't entirely foreign.
It should be fine.
Tre'yon continued speaking beside him, his voice steady, almost relaxed. At first, Grub listened with some level of attention, attempting to extract meaning from the fragments he could understand. But as the speech continued, his interest faded. The words became less useful, the effort to interpret them no longer worth the return.
Eventually, he stopped trying. The voice became background noise, something present but not important.
When Tre'yon finally finished, Grub gave a small nod, just enough to acknowledge that something had been said. Tre'yon smiled in response, seemingly satisfied with even that minimal reaction. Then he spoke again, more clearly this time.
"…training… tomorrow… new recruit."
Grub's eyes shifted slightly beneath the hood.
New recruit.
The phrase stood out. He glanced subtly around the area, observing the others more carefully. Their posture, their equipment, their behavior—it was obvious. None of them carried the same presence as the higher-ranking soldiers he had seen earlier. There was hesitation in their movements, a lack of refinement, a certain looseness that suggested inexperience.
They were all new.
So why call him out for it? What a pretentious asshole.
Grub considered the possibility that it wasn't about distinguishing him from them, but rather reinforcing their shared position. A label, not a classification.
But it didn't really matter so he let the thought go.
Reaching back into the bowl, his fingers brushed against something softer. He paused and looked down. A small maggot shifted slightly between his fingers. The reaction was immediate. His hand jerked back slightly as a wave of disgust hit him with surprising force. His throat tightened, his stomach turning in a way that had nothing to do with the food itself and everything to do with memory.
He couldn't stand them. Not anymore. Not after everything tied to them. Grub forced the reaction down, but the damage was done. His appetite dulled instantly, the remaining insects in the bowl losing whatever appeal they had moments before. Before he could process it further, a sharp ringing sound cut through the air.
It was some sort of bell it seemed. And as soon as it rung the camp shifted all at once, conversations ending mid-sentence, bodies moving with sudden purpose. Groups broke apart, flowing toward tents and structures with a level of coordination that spoke of routine drilled into them repeatedly.
Grub watched it unfold with quiet recognition. He had seen this before. From a distance, it had looked structured. But looking at it up close was like looking at a bunch of puppets being pulled by the same strings.
Tre'yon stood and gestured for him to follow, the motion casual but stern. Grub rose without hesitation and followed.
***
The interior of the tent was larger than it appeared from the outside, though not by enough to offset the sheer number of bodies inside. Beds were stacked closely together, leaving narrow pathways between them. The air was warmer, thicker, filled with the quiet sounds of movement and low conversation. Tre'yon navigated the space with familiarity, weaving through until he reached a bunk.
He tapped it lightly, then pointed upward. Grub followed the gesture and climbed into the top bunk without question, his movements controlled and quiet. A higher-ranking soldier moved through the tent, inspecting each section with sharp, efficient movements. Its gaze swept across the room, lingering enough to confirm order before moving on. Then the light was extinguished.
Darkness settled quickly, followed by a gradual quieting of the space as the recruits began to sleep.
Grub did not. He tracked the rhythm of the room, the shifting of bodies, the slowing of breath, the point at which movement ceased entirely.
After he thought everyone was asleep, he made his move. Slipping down from the bunk, he exited the tent as silently as he had entered. Outside, the night was still.
He scanned the area carefully before pulling out his notebook, angling it beneath the moonlight. Then he began to write. Every detail he could recall from the day—movements, structure, patterns of speech, hierarchy, reactions. The way they interacted, the way they deferred to authority, the subtle differences between ranks. And the language.
Up close, it was more complex than he had expected. Faster, more fluid, layered with nuance that was difficult to isolate but easier to absorb through repetition. This would speed things up. It had to.
Still, as he wrote, a quiet irritation lingered beneath his focus. This was taking longer than he liked. He didn't particularly care about their lives, their routines, their stories.
He just needed answers. And once he had them— He would leave. Grub exhaled quietly, closing the notebook before returning to his bunk.
***
By the time morning came, he was already awake. The others stirred gradually but Grub had never fully slipped into sleep to begin with. A command rang out, sharp and authoritative. The recruits moved immediately.
It was time for breakfast.
Grub followed with them.
The food was different this time. Fruits, unfamiliar but recognizable, and what appeared to be eggs from some kind of creature he couldn't immediately identify. He selected what seemed safe enough and moved to sit alone. That was what he preferred.
As he ate, his attention shifted toward the conversations around him.
"…plan …for…village…"
"…movement…maybe…."
The words stood out. His focus sharpened slightly as he listened more closely, trying to piece together the meaning. The tone suggested preparation.Were they planning something? This was a military base after all.
Before he could gather more intel Tre'yon sat across from him.
Grub didn't react outwardly, but internally, there was a brief flicker of annoyance. The lizard seemed drawn to him for reasons he didn't fully understand.
Then again— It reminded him of Wrighty.
The thought surfaced unexpectedly. And just as quickly, it shifted something in his expression. It was a subtle expression of sourness but Tre'yon noticed.
He spoke again, his tone carrying concern this time. Grub looked down immediately, shutting it down before it could develop further. There was no point in engaging. No benefit at all.
Tre'yon watched him for a moment longer, then smiled instead, shifting the mood with what sounded like a joke.
"…mute…?"
"…how many bells…to…. speak?"
Grub understood the joke. Bells were the currency here. He already knew that. But he gave no response. Instead, he tried to communicate.
A series of gestures, controlled but deliberate, attempting to convey a question—"why they were here, what the plan was, what the mention of the village meant."
Tre'yon didn't understand. The confusion on his face made that fact very clear. Grub stopped. Frustration flickered briefly before he abandoned the attempt entirely.
How annoyingly pointless.
He returned to his food and finished it without further distraction.
***
A sudden call rang out again, louder this time. The recruits all gathered at once upon hearing the bell. Many lizards grumbled as they threw away their meals before heading outside. Tre'yon stood up and gave Grub a small shrug, he was clearly just as uncertain.
Grub followed the motion and stood up to leave.
They were all led to an open training ground.
And at its center stood Lelan.
She stood with complete control of the space, her posture straight, her presence enough to silence the group before she even spoke. Then she did.
Grub listened in carefully.
"…advancement...Anwansi Village…"
"…prepare…battle..."
This time, the meaning came together. There was a planned movement towards some village soon. Around him, the recruits reacted with visible excitement, energy spreading through the group. Tre'yon included. The sound of cheering erupted through the open space.
Grub didn't share the same reaction. He simply observed, piecing it together. They were attacking another village in a secret plan, and now he was a part of it.