Page 2 of Gentle Warrior

“Bear,” Moose said quietly, frustration threading through his voice. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if the words were caught somewhere. His shoulders sagged, heavy with a fatigue that went deeper than physical exhaustion.

“It’s me. Jim’s losing it. Mom’s gone again.” He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as if trying to hold himself together. “I’m heading back, but I’m coming off a mission, and it’s a long trip—with a refuel stop in Norfolk.”

He swallowed hard, hoping Bear couldn’t catch the edge of panic bubbling beneath his tone.

There was a pause. Then Bear’s voice came steady but soft, catching the weariness Moose hadn’t meant to show. “Got it, Moose. You’re in a rough spot. We’ll handle things with Jim and keep looking for your mom. You just focus on getting back.”

Moose exhaled slowly, the tightness in his chest lingering. He ran a hand over his face, eyes briefly closing in frustration before he spoke again. “You know Nancy’s never been normal.” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with bitter resignation. “The town’s always written her off as slow, maybe even demented.”

The image of Jim flashed through Moose’s mind—sixty-three now, never known for patience, and growing grumpier and more short-tempered as the years and farm work took their toll. Caring for Nancy had become an overwhelming challenge, pushing Jim further toward exhaustion. Moose rubbed his temple, fighting back dizziness and the deep guilt gnawing at him. “Jim’s exhausted. He’s never managed all of this well on his own. And now…” His voice faltered under the weight of it all. “I just—” The words caught in his throat, swallowed by the helplessness he felt for not being there when they needed him most.

Bear’s voice remained calm but firm. “I know your mom. Flora and I will take care of her. And I’m sure Commander Michaels has your travel covered. Stop letting the guilt get to you. Don’t worry about things here—we’ve got this.”

A brief pause, then Bear added quietly, “We got your six.”

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket just as the hum of activity around him grew louder. The team moved efficiently, finalizing preparations as the engines roared to life with a deep, throaty rumble. Flight crew dressed in standard military flight suits and headsets moved with flawless coordination, checking instruments and securing gear. Their seamless operation was a testament to rigorous training and constant repetition.

Moose sat quietly, helmet resting in his lap, eyes drifting to the vast, unending desert sprawling beneath them. The weight of everything pressed down—family, duty, and the uncertainty ahead—yet in this moment, the desert’s endless horizon offered a strange kind of calm.

The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him—Jim’s distress, Nancy’s disappearance, and the responsibility now resting on his shoulders as Warden’s SIC. Moose’s shoulders slumped slightly, his fingers tightening into a loose fist on his knee. He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, the rough motion a silent attempt to push down the knot twisting in his gut. Taking a slow, deliberate breath, he straightened just enough to steady the storm inside.

Blast slid into the seat beside him, humming softly; a familiar tune that usually lifted the mood. Moose offered a faint, tight smile but couldn’t clear the thoughts lingering in his mind.

Across from him, Nova settled quietly, her calm eyes meeting his with unspoken understanding. Her steady presence was a comforting anchor in the silence, a reminder he wasn’t alone.

Dog leaned back with a slow exhale, his gravelly voice cutting through the hush. “You’ve been quiet since that call. I don’t know much about your folks, Moose, but whatever it is; it’s wearing on you.”

Clenching his jaw, Moose ground out, “Mom’s always wandered, lost in her own world. She doesn’t talk—never has. But Flora and I have talked about it, and we think she’s on the spectrum. It’s not that she’s ‘retarded’ or anything like those small-minded folks around town called her. It’s different. She doesn’t forget things exactly; it’s more like she just doesn’t connect with the things that don’t matter to her. Jim calls it ‘demencha,’ like it’s a joke. But it’s not that simple.”

Dog’s eyes narrowed further, his jaw tightening as he considered Moose’s revelation. “Autistic, huh? That explains a lot, maybe. Folks don’t understand it. They see what they want to see.” He shook his head slowly. “Still, it doesn’t make it any less dangerous. Those mountains don’t care why someone wanders. They just see a lost person.”

Moose shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away for a moment before meeting Dog’s gaze. He clenched his fists loosely at his sides but said nothing.

Dog glanced at Moose, his voice rough but firm. “Means you have to watch out for her even more. Know what makes her tick, what sets her off, what comforts her. Because if she gets turned around out there, it isn’t just about finding the way back. It is about keeping her safe.”

Moose’s shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. Finally, he exhaled slowly, the weight of the responsibility settling heavier on him.

Dog’s expression softened. “You carrying that weight alone? You don’t have to.”

Nova nodded quietly. “And with Jim calling it ‘demencha’—I think it’s his way of coping. But it’s serious.”

Dog’s gaze darkened, his voice stern. “It ain’t just a joke.”

He shook his head slowly. “Sounds like you’ve been carrying a heavy load for a long time.”

Moose glanced at the ground. “I guess I have.”

After a pause, Dog added softly, “That kind of mess wears on a person—on the ones left trying to keep her safe.”

Moose’s shoulders sagged slightly at Dog’s words. He rubbed the back of his neck, a small, tired sigh escaping him. The raw truth in Dog’s voice stung, but it also cut through the silence Moose had been holding on to for so long. For a moment, he let himself acknowledge just how much the burden had grown.

“Yeah,” Moose admitted quietly, his voice rough. “It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”

He glanced away, swallowing the tightness in his throat. “You’re right, though. It’s dangerous out there. And I don’t know how much longer Jim can keep doing this alone.”

Spider leaned in, tapping his comm pack. “If there’s any tech that can find her faster—drones, heat signatures—we got your back.”

Moose looked around at his team, his second family. These were the people who’d seen him at his best and worst, who’d fought beside him through thick and thin. The anger at Jim, the family secrets he carried, and his own recent promotion pressed deep inside. But here, with them, it felt easier to breathe.