She cannot breathe, cannot move. Someone hovers over her threateningly. Her arms are scratched and bruised. Blood drips into her right eye from a cut above her eyebrow, blurring her vision. One side of her face swells. From the corner of her unaffected eye, Nazirah sees Cato move to help her. Lumi puts a firm hand to his chest, stopping him. Grimacing in pain, face strained, Nazirah slowly rises to her feet. Combat training. It started two weeks ago and has been torture ever since. On the first day, a rainy Monday afternoon, the recruits shuffled lethargically into the old gymnasium with their fighting instructor, Grum. Grum is an exceptionally cranky, middle-aged intermix. He takes every chance he possibly can to beat his students down, both physically and emotionally. Not much is known about him except that he was a rum-runner in his adolescence. Caught by Medi soldiers, he was brutally maimed for it. They left him alive, horribly scarred, as a warning to other bootleggers. His scars mar an already vile face, most notably with a thick keloid that runs from lip to eyebrow.
