A Memory/Turquoise/Text

A line of iksar children stretches into the mists of the jungle ahead. Behind, the same. For the first months of training, grueling physical exertion, designed to weed out any chaff that had made it this far, and to toughen the remainder that we would be able to endure the training that followed. Miles through wet jungles with heavy packs, long nights without shelter or food. They did not compare to what followed.

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