Logan
The clang of metal was distant. I had already searched the medical wing and been redirected to the training field in my search for Evelyn. At first, I had found this instruction odd, but I had followed it anyway.
The clashing sound of weaponry was background noise to the steady rhythm of footsteps on packed dirt. I stood at the edge of the training yard, arms crossed, watching her.
Evelyn moved slowly, carefully, beside a young soldier named Dax. The boy leaned on a cane, his left leg stiff and dragging, but he was upright, sweating, gritting his teeth, and refusing to quit.
Dax had taken a nasty arrow to the thigh in a recent battle. The arrow’s aim had been brutal, and removing it had damaged many of his leg muscles. He likely wouldn’t see the battlefield again anytime soo
