Excerpt: BattleCry

Her pack was heavier, heavier than it should have been, but then it was carrying more than she should have been. She glanced back at her platoon, normally she would castigate them for such sloppiness and lack of discipline, but it suited her purposes right now. One young woman- Rhian, or something similar- had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her tunic. Not one of them- apart from her, their leader, of course- was wearing the armour that should have been part of their uniforms. This was an exercise.
As far as they were concerned, this was nothing more than a gentle walk.

They were a new group, inexperienced. She would never get away with this with her old group, but then she'd applied for transfer in order to do this. She swallowed. They were getting close. She felt sick. This could mean her end, as well as theirs.

She had sharpened her weapons last night, sharpened them till they could slide through flesh like butter. Her thumb still throbbed with the evidence.

Whispers and chuckles reached her eyes, and she closed her eyes. Her oldest scar, her first scar, throbbed. One of them laughed outright. Good. The noise should attract attention.

She shifted under her armour, her shoulders were already emitting their faint protests at the unusual weight, and the brief respite was necessary.

"I" her voice was faint the first time, like a boy becoming a man. She swallowed, and tried again.

"I think we should rest here!" she shouted, loud enough to startle the birds from the nearby tree-tops. "Just... just relax, everyone."

They talked, and laughed, slumping sloppily on the ground, sprawling. Nothing more than children, really, only a few years older than when she’d become a soldier… but even then she would never have been this casual.

Eleanor made sure she made as much noise as possible, shouting orders, hearing her voice echo through the trees. Her sharp ears picked up a rustling in the bushes either side of the path. Good.

She stood back and waited.

She didn’t wait long.

The attack was fast, and brutal, and she stood by as the group of wild haired ragged bandits piled in. Her troop fought well, and she slipped into professional detachment, keeping herself out of the thick of the fighting, ensuring her own survival.