Sierra watched the boys train. They hadn’t recognized her because she wasn’t wearing any of her insignia or troop colors. They thought she was just a girl from Inland—here for any list of reasons, and they were going to try their hardest to impress her. After all, what was the fun of being a solider if you couldn’t make people swoon over you?
And they weren’t bad, she’d give them that. They had good form and good techniques, and they would hold their own in many a good fight. Of course, they wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She figured she could take the red-headed one down in about forty five seconds flat. The blond one—he might take closer to two minutes to go down.
She’d let them peacock for a little bit longer—then she’d start to really pay attention—making it obvious that she was paying them attention. Then they’d start to pay her attention, offer to teach her a thing or two.
And she knew it was cruel, but she really couldn’t help but to let them set themselves up for failure. It was really the only fun she got to have these days.