**Garrick Thorne's Log, Supplemental**
**Rothguard Resistance Clearing recording**
**40 days after Rothgard's Fall**
The woods hold their breath.
Steel descends on silent wings.
Hope arrives in crates and armor.
Garrick Thorne waited in the Rothguard forests beside the open area he and the Resistance had spent the day clearing. The ground was still raw from felled saplings and dragged brush, the air thick with the sharp scent of cut pine and turned earth. Around him, the resistance fighters shifted restlessly, their patched cloaks and scavenged weapons clutched tight. They were eager to see this resupply, though none of them truly knew what that entailed—only that Jasmine had promised aid from the sky, and that the strange allies who had already struck the Imperial fleet would not leave them empty-handed.
A low, steady subsonic rumble filled the air, vibrating through the soles of Garrick's boots and into his chest like distant thunder rolling closer. Two Wyvern shuttles appeared above the treeline, their sleek black hulls barely visible against the night sky. At the last moment, their engines throttled up with a controlled surge, the sound deepening into a powerful thrum as the craft settled precisely into the clearing. Landing struts flexed with a soft metallic sigh as they absorbed the weight. For a heartbeat, everything was quiet. The resistance fighters stood stunned, eyes wide, weapons half-raised in instinctive defense, the only sound the faint hiss of cooling engines and the distant rustle of leaves.
Then the rear ramps lowered with a smooth hydraulic hiss. Bright interior lights spilled out, illuminating stacks of crates and pallets. The rest of Mira's Delta squad emerged, moving with the easy confidence of veterans stepping onto familiar ground. One of them spotted Mira and broke into a broad grin. "Delta Three, you look like you've been rolling in the mud again," the lead operator called, voice warm with familiar banter. "Missed us?"
Mira stepped forward and clasped forearms with each of them in turn, her usual professional calm cracking into a genuine smile. "You have no idea. This is Captain Garrick Thorne and his squad. They're the reason we're here." Garrick shook hands with the newcomers, noting the easy camaraderie between them and Mira. "Welcome to the fight. Your timing is perfect."
The Delta operators nodded, already scanning the tree line out of habit. Their leader relayed the orders without preamble. "Command wants the Guardian squad back with 1st Company for the current mission. We're staying—Delta Three will handle training and coordination with the resistance. Load up what you can and get airborne."
Everyone pitched in. Resistance fighters and Guardians worked side by side, hauling crates of food, medical supplies, ammunition, and pallets of matte-black MRAC plates to the edges of the clearing. The stacks grew quickly, a small mountain of hope rising where only desperation had stood moments before. Garrick's squad moved with quiet efficiency, helping secure the last pallets before they turned toward the waiting shuttles.
The goodbyes were brief but heartfelt. Lira Longears clasped forearms with Mira one last time, her voice soft. "Stay safe out here. We'll see you when the line is secure." Elias gave a firm nod. "You've got the hard part now. Train them well." Darius and Finn exchanged quiet words with the Delta operators, the bond of shared training evident in their clasped hands. Mira lingered a moment longer with Garrick, gripping his shoulder. "You've been solid from the start. Keep them alive until we can link up again." Garrick's smile was tight but genuine. "Same to you. Go win the war for us."
Garrick's squad boarded the Wyvern shuttles. The ramps hissed shut. The engines cycled up once more, the low subsonic rumble building into a controlled roar as the craft lifted smoothly from the clearing. Garrick watched through the viewport as the resistance camp shrank below them, the newly stacked supplies and the small figures waving farewell growing smaller against the dark forest.
The shuttles climbed higher, the night air thinning around them until the stars sharpened overhead. A bittersweet ache settled in Garrick's chest as the vessels burned for orbit, carrying his squad back toward the larger fight. Below, the resistance now had a fighting chance—and the knowledge that they were no longer alone.
The sky had answered.