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I had not expected to write again until several days later. Up until today I had no idea of the forced idleness that remaining on base would bring. Now it seems I must write simply to find something to do.

As our army is small only our unit and Michelle's remain at the barracks. The Fighters in her unit took turns in lookout duty, even though we all knew there would be little to no action from the enemy. The word is that troops here are the Empire's castoffs, those who were unfit for battle but unwilling or unable to shirk their duty to the Empire. Even more so the geography made targeting our base impossible without breaching the advance. In short it would take a miracle for the enemy to even reach us, leaving the air too quiet for my liking.

The members of our unit were left to ourselves. Now that I think of it, I have written little of the other Amazons in our unit. This is in part because initially I didn't particularly care for them and they returned my indifference with their own. At the same time I couldn't help but notice the distance between them and myself, and over the past few days I have learned more about them. Their names are Stasha and Julia. Unlike Anne and me, they are not from the island and they did not know each other until they were paired together in this unit. Instead, they hailed from different cities around Pogrom Forest, that haunted wood that is rumored to be our next destination. I felt slightly ashamed of my earlier reluctance to get to know them, and today we talked of generalities. But the distance between us, although bridged, remains. We will never be more than soldiers who serve together.

However, I wonder if this isn't for the best. It is an awful feeling to know that one is in an army where members of a unit can be reassigned at a moment's notice. I don't know Stasha and Julia well and I can't say I have bonded with them. Perhaps it is the temporary nature of our assignments that gives me the most pause. What's the use of communication when there is no constancy? Yet at the same time, I know that Anne, though my friend, is merely another soldier. She can be taken away just as easily, leaving me alone.

These thoughts persisted as I spent most of the day with Anne. I trained and she watched, sometimes helping me but never sparring with me. Instead we gossiped of the silly rumors an legends of men who turn into wolves at night. Even if such legends were true, though, I don't think I'd feel the strong foreboding shadow over my heart. This is something worse, as though I were to lose something dear to me forever. Then again, it sounds like sentimental rubbish. I've never been one to wallow in it, so why should I start now?

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