“Way to go, Firequencher!”
Seneca tried to smile, but it
was more of a grimace. She was quickly growing to hate that
name.
How could she explain that her actions hadn't been the
idealized heroics her fahrar mates thought they were. True, she's
been the first to make an enemy kill. To get revenge for a fallen
mentor. But how could they possibly understand it was happenstance. A
fluke. How could she admit to how frightened and cowardly she'd
felt.
She was no hero, she wanted to shout. She was even
afraid her side of events would make her shunned.
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