Page 25 of My Tiny Giant

“Fine. I’m sorry for some of the things I said and did when I was bigger. Okay?”

“Just some?” I pushed, lifting an eyebrow.

He faced me with a concerned expression.

“Was everything I said and did wrong?”

“No,” I laughed, letting him off the hook. “Not all, I’m just teasing you. Apology accepted, Agan. I’m sorry too, for all the misunderstandings. Friends?” I offered him my hand.

“Friends.” He squeezed the tip of my pointer finger in his palm. “Now give me your knife.” He leaped to his feet.

“What?”

“I’ll get us some lunch. Since I don’t have time to catch an animal bigger than myself right now, and you probably wouldn’t want to eat anything smaller than me, I’ll climb up that tree and get us some dhoda fruit.”

I followed his gesture with my gaze toward the cluster of bright pink, elongated fruit high in the tree.

“How are you planning to carry the knife up there?” I asked, clicking my arm pocket open and taking out the laser knife handle. It was slim, but nearly as long as Agan was currently tall.

“Strap it to my back with this,” he handed his belt to me. “Oh, and this fruit breaks easily. So, you’ll have to catch it before it hits the ground.”

“I do?”

* * *

“T HIS IS REALLY GOOD .” I munched on the second piece of dhoda fruit. Juicy and tender, it had a strong flavor that vaguely reminded me of strawberries with a hint of lemon. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Agan bit off huge chunks of a tiny slice he held with both hands. “Thanks for catching most of them.” He chuckled, pointing with his gaze at the vivid pink stains that now covered my arms and shoulders.

“Hey, they turned out to be much more delicate than I thought.”

“I warned you,” he shrugged.

There was something boyish in this gesture and in the carefree smile he shot at me.

“How old are you, Agan?” I asked.

“Twenty-eight. Why?”

I’d just turned twenty-seven. My active-duty term had gone well over five years. Even if I counted the four years I’d spent in the academy, my experience didn’t account for a half of his.

“You said you’ve been in the army for over two decades.” I reminded, confused.

“No. I said I’ve been earning my rank for that long, meaning gaining my combat experience. The Ravil Army doesn’t accept anyone younger than sixteen. And even then, the first couple of years are supposed to be spent on the base, running errands and such. I started when I was six, running errands for a civilian resistance group. By the time I got accepted into the Army at sixteen, I’d already led my own unit of resistance fighters for two years.”

“Six?” I gasped in shock. “How is that even legal to use a child that young?”

“My parents cared more about my safety than anything else when they sent me off to the resistance campground. They believed it would be safer for me there than in our village, with the constant threat of a fescod attack looming over it.” He finished his fruit, resting his arms on his knees afterwards. “They turned out to be right because I’m still alive, and they’re gone.”

“Fescods killed your parents?” I asked, and he nodded. “I’m so sorry, Agan.”

I was on Tragul temporarily, on a peacekeeping mission. My contract was expiring soon. But this planet was Agan’s home. Fescods had long overrun Ravie, his country. He’d spent a lifetime fighting those things. He’d lost his parents to them.

“We’ll get them.” He rose to his feet and walked to the water to rinse his hands off. “Voranians have kicked them off their planet, and we will get them out of Ravie, too.”

I followed him, washing my hands in the creek.

“I believe we will, Agan.” There had to be a way to end this devastating war.