Eating is hard when you’ve burned your hands, Rose thought ruefully as she struggled to hold her spoon. She glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. It had been a long day of training and everyone was tired, maybe no one would see her struggle.
She had only joined a few months ago and was eager to make a good impression - all the other fighters were far more experienced. Every slip, every mistake, she felt everyone’s eyes on her.
Don’t be the weak link, she told herself as she trained hard to get better. And today had been pretty good, until it had been time to clean her rifle. She had put her hand on the hot barrel of the gun. She grimaced as she remembered the pain, how she had bit back a yelp and tried not to cry.
Hopefully it’ll be better by morning… she thought as she winced when the spoon hit a tender spot. A hand on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts.
“Private Rose, the commander wants to see you. Come with me.”
She stood immediately and followed Derrick. Great, what now? she thought as she followed him. Was the commander going to tell her she wasn’t good enough? She knew the commander was tough, but this seemed a little much… She was so busy in her thoughts she didn’t notice Derreck wasn’t leading her to the commander’s office, but to a quiet hallway.
He halted in front of her and so did she.
“Sir…?” She didn’t like the looks of this…
Derrick put his hands up in a calming gesture.
“I apologize for deceiving you, but will you let me see your hand?”
She froze. Had he noticed? She tried to recover.
“Sir, there is nothing wrong. I am fine.”
Derrick just raised an eyebrow, waiting.
A long moment passed. Finally, she relented and held out her hand. A red burn covered most of her palm, with a few blisters forming. He held the injured hand tenderly and produced a tube of burn cream from his pocket. With feather light touch, he dabbed the burn, soothing it.
“Why did you try to hide it?” He asked, not looking into her eyes as he wrapped the hand.
“Because…” she faltered. How could she explain her feelings of inadequacy to him? How could she explain how small and inexperienced she felt at camp every day? How she was always afraid that every mistake would be the one that got her cut from the team.
“Rose,” his hand was under her chin, gently lifting it. Her brown eyes met his green ones.
“You don’t have to hide injury to be strong. You already are. I’ve seen you. Every day, you fight the fear that lives in you and you get up time and time again.”
He finished bandaging the hand and gently lowered it.
“If it still looks bad tomorrow, we’ll go to the infirmary. ‘K?”
Rose could only nod as he turned to go, leaving her with her now-bandaged hand and a slight smile on her face.
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