A bead of sweat raced down Lucinda’s temple as she held her position. The air, thick with humidity and the stench of rotting leaves, was getting unbearable. Thanks to the cloudy sky, her team could hide longer in the tree line waiting for her command. As she breathed in deep, a twig snapped behind her and she felt the serrated edge of a blade on her arm.
The warm breath on her neck told her that the person was at least a head taller than her, leaving her at a slight disadvantage. Her breathing slowed, forcing herself to remain calm. “May I help you?” Lucinda’s voice is tight, a mere whisper.
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