The Skin Thief

Chapter 51

A violent jolt ripples through my body as I pull the trigger. I push past it and focus on ejecting the shell casing of the bullet. The golden casing clangs onto the floor next to me and ahead, a cloud of dust explodes around my tiny target.

"Excellent shot, Little Bird," my trainer, Dusty, says. I keep looking down the scope, preparing to take the next shot. I think back to the briefing and lessons. I focus intently as I stare down the scope of the rifle, zoning the world out around me.

My finger twitches on the trigger and I lick my dry lips. It takes all my focus and strength not to blink or flinch as the gun jolts from the power of firing.

I eject the casing and then pull away and sit up. Beside me, Dusty looks through binoculars at my target over 1300 metres away.

"Perfect," he says and lowers the binoculars.

"Thank you," I reply and stand, shaking the dust off the front of my body from where I'd been lying on the ground.

Dusty sighs. "Magnificent, isn't it?" he asks, gesturing to the sniper rifle resting on the ground. I nod my head.

"I've got to give it to the Fourth Realm, they sure do know how to make a weapon," he chuckles.

Before I can stop it, memories of the videos of the bombs ripple through my mind. For a second, a bolt of white-hot panic flutters through me as I recall the great wall of fire.

"They sure do," I mutter, gulping.

"Get packed up, Little Bird. That's it for your refresher training. I'll sign you off and you can return back to the Fourth Realm tonight," he says, and before I reply, he turns and walks away.

I stare at his retreating figure and sigh. I had been expecting to go to some sort of barracks, with other soldiers and officers. Instead, when I went through the portal, I was greeted by a man in his fifties wearing blue suit trousers, an open white shirt, and brown braces attached to his trousers that went over his shirt.

He looked more like a businessman than a soldier in the Athainian army. Of course, I have no idea what his actual job is. I don't even know his name. He is Dusty, and I am Little Bird. That's all we know about each other.

With a sigh, I pack up the weapon and then make my way back to the cabin. Dusty stands on the wooden porch wearing a brown fedora and smoking a cigarette. He stares out at the mountains in the distance. I pause and look too, taking in the spectacular, snow-peaked cliffs. I take in a deep breath, revelling in the fresh smells of dirt, plants and clean air. I hadn't realised just how chemically rotten the air in the Fourth Realm was until I stepped through the portal back into the Second Realm. My lungs have defiantly thanked me for this short trip.

Dusty lets out a puff of smoke as I step up the onto the porch.

Also instead of barracks, my accommodation has been a tiny bedroom in Dusty's hut, which, conveniently, is the only building for fifty miles at least in every direction.

I don't know what he does here. There isn't a farm or anything around but rolling green hills and mountains. My guess is that he guards the backstreet portal. I thought there would be more security though, like the first one I went through. Then again, who am I to question those in charge? Plus, perhaps Dusty is all the security they need.

"I bet you don't want to go back," he says, speaking broken Etrayan. His Athainian accent is thick too, making it almost hard to understand what he's saying. I know he's only speaking Etrayan for me so I don't accidentally slip back into my Athainian accent or language once I'm back in the Fourth Realm.

I sigh sadly, wishing I could properly speak my native tongue again.

"I've only just got the echoes of the city out of my head," I reply, laughing. Falling asleep in the quiet of nature was odd, I have to admit. My body had gotten very used to the noise of the city; the cars, the horns, the people. In the silence, it was like my brain was playing tricks on me, making me think I could still hear it.