Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion by Edward Crichton Read Free Book Online

pants pocket in the hope that I’d left my glacier style sunglasses, complete with side shields, there.  As luck would have it, I had, and I slipped them on and surveyed the camp.  Most everyone seemed out and about and doing something, although Santino was missing, probably still asleep after his late night/early morning QRF duty, and Bordeaux and Madrina were missing as well.  I noticed Helena off to my right, a few dozen meters away from our horseshoe shaped camp, situated atop a small hill.  She had a pair of binoculars fixed to her eyes as she glassed the horizon, her DSR-1 sniper rifle lying across her body in her lap.
    She seemed focused so I didn’t bother her, and made my way to the center of the camp and its central fire.  Arrayed around it were Vincent, Titus, Patricia Martin, TJ Stryker, Gaius, Marcus, Archer, and Artie.  Georgia Brewster, who was rarely seen in Stryker’s company, was laying out on a blanket near her tent, Alex Cuyler was on QRF duty, and Wang was off to the side, cleaning his medical equipment.
    My stomach grumbled as I inspected our camp, so I made my way toward the fire in the hope of finding food.  I took a seat next to Vincent and he patted my shoulder warmly in greeting with his remaining hand.  His left arm from the elbow down had been lost during the Battle for Rome over four years ago, but he’d never lamented its loss nor acted like he deserved sympathy.  He’d simply adapted and grown accustomed to his limited mobility and moved on.
    I nodded in greeting and offered his stepson a nod as well.
    “How’s the leg, Titus?”  I asked him.
    He looked down at his right leg and placed his hand upon the large cast that encased it.
    “I feel it healing, Jacob Hunter,” he replied and I ground my teeth at his continued use of my first and last name.  “And Wang says he will remove the cast in perhaps a month.”
    I looked at the young man’s cast and smiled at its appearanc e.  Just like in junior high, it had a number of drawings and messages scrawled all over it.  Artie had been the first to contribute, and I thought back to yesterday morning as she’d leaned in and wrote a quick get well message, signing it with her nickname and little “X’s” and “O’s” like any teenager would do.  When she was finished, she’d noticed my curious inspection of her display and asked me, “What?  They didn’t do this in your timeline?”
    I’d shaken my head in surprise at the comment, not really paying attention to her words, but the meaning behind them instead.  Obviously, school children had done exactly the same thing in my timeline, just another reminder that while our timelines were obviously very, very different, there were still peculiar similarities that didn’t make sense.  I had no idea how the course of history could diverge so clearly, but still leave it almost exactly the same and completely different all at the same time.
    I’d ignored Artie’s question at the time, playing it off by taking her pen and leaving my own contribution to Titus’ cast, and over the course of the day, everyone else had added their own sentiments as well.  Helena had colored her lips with some local lip coloring she’d picked up at one point and left a kiss below her message, while Santino had cheerfully drawn the one thing every young boy loved to draw on another boy’s stuff: male genitalia – for whatever reason. 
    I sighed as I noticed the drawing, remembering the time back in high school when a friend had drawn one on my backpack without me knowing, causing me to receive a demerit because obviously I’d draw the thing myself on my own backpack for every single teacher to see…
    I’d gotten him back though.
    Santino’s smut notwithstanding, the gesture had helped break the ice between the two teams and offered some lightheartedness before the reality of our situation set in.  While the bonding experience had left Titus’ cast covered in color and words, the