Emmaline Muller
For the longest of times, Emmaline spent little to none of her waking moments in thought. After her village had been gutted of its resources and inhabitants, she was in no position to let herself wander off thinking about things of the past. Only the present stayed with her, and her eyes reflected the anticipation, the anxiety for what would be coming in the future.
Had she been some deity or other entity beyond the endurance of a human, she would've remained so indefinitely, but simply responding with a "Yes, sir!" was getting old. For having reached so far into Gallia, the Empire was sure taking its sweet time advancing its force.
With the potty break came the release of tension, both in her bladder and brain, and when Muller headed back to the rest of the squad, Sgt. Harald was considering some ideas. Fire teams, he said?
That, she didn't mind. More people to talk to, more lancers to share the burden of the explosives. God, if they had to come across another tank...well, she'd done it once.
You know, walking right up on top and dropping a grenade in?