The only sound was the soft, gentle flapping of the flag in the wind. It was a comforting noise, and one that Reagan had come to like since her arrival at camp. Once, capture the flag had seemed like a trivial game, a silly waste of time, especially when there were more important things to do. Things like finding her father’s killer. For months, she had refused to play, insisting that she would not spend her energy on something so pointless. But it was that one day that she finally caved that made all the difference. She quickly realized that capture the flag was more than just a game. It was a form of training. It was an opportunity for her to run, jump, climb, and push herself to her physical capacities. It was a chance to interact with others, forging bonds, and learning how to trust and command another person. But most importantly, it was a way for her to sharpen her mind. Capture the flag was just as much mental work as it was physical, if not more-so. It required attention to detail, snap judgement calls, a cool mind, and an ability to move to (and occasionally craft) a new plan B. It was all about strategizing, which was what Reagan had been born to do.
The girl emitted a soft, content puff of air as her grey eyes watched the flag dance on the breeze. Her legs were beginning to tingle as she held herself in a low crouch, but she paid the pain no mind. She could hold the position all day if she had to. It was what she had been training her body to do for the past couple of years, and the workouts were paying off. Her long hair was pulled back in a tight braid, but a few stray strands still whipped at her face on the wind. With a slow, measured motion, she tucked the hair behind her ear. Then, just as carefully, she pivoted. Now her body faced directly away from the flag, and she peered through the thin, leafy branches of the bush she hid in. Her comrades, she knew, were already finding and holding their own positions of stealth. For now, it was all about settling in, and waiting for the other team to make the first move. The rest of the plan would unfold after that.
After a moment, she chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping to spot the form of one of her teammates. She was fortunate enough to have a great group this game, and she was anxious to see what they could do together. Her heart swelled with pride as she recalled her team’s eagerness to take on her plan, with only a few minor tweaks. They understood that her mind worked like a computer, constantly cranking out probabilities and possibilities, and individuals often came to her for help with their own strategy building. But her team was good, and they had offered their own ideas, creating what would no doubt be the most successful approach possible. It was only a matter of time.
Fetzen
