Cshooter's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The morning after the trial, Cshooter came to the training ground on foot. Blackwood's words still weighed on him. Skill meant nothing if the soldiers would not stand beside him. He needed the men to see past his face. He had no idea how to show them. So he brought the one friend who never flinched. His gray pit bull trotted at his heel, ears up, eyes fixed on him. The soldiers filed into the cafeteria at midday. The wide counter steamed with food. Long tables filled with noise and clatter. Cshooter stepped inside and the noise dropped. Men lowered their trays. Two guards near the door shifted their chairs away. The old pattern again. They saw his hard jaw and tall frame, and they feared him. Cshooter sat alone at the end of a table. The dog lay across his boots. He unwrapped a small frame from his coat and set it upright. It held a picture of his wife and his daughter, cheek to cheek. He ate in silence and looked at them. A tray crashed to the floor. A soldier had tripped near the counter and spilled hot soup on his own arm. He yelped and clutched his wrist. No one moved fast enough. Cshooter was already up. He crossed the hall in long strides. The nearby men braced, unsure what he would do. Cshooter knelt by the burned soldier. He pressed a cold water pitcher against the man's wrist. His voice came out low and gentle. "Hold still. The cold pulls the heat out." The dog padded over and licked the soldier's free hand. The man froze, then let out a shaky laugh. Cshooter steadied his arm and did not let go. The soldiers watched. They had expected the fearsome man to shove past or sneer. Instead he soothed a stranger like a brother. One guard brought a clean cloth. Another crouched beside them. The circle that always opened around Cshooter now closed toward him. When the soldier could stand, Cshooter helped him to a bench. The man glanced at the little frame on the far table. "Yours?" he asked. Cshooter nodded. "My wife. My girl." The soldier studied his face, the hard lines softer now. "You don't look so scary up close," he said. A few men laughed. This time Cshooter was inside the sound, not outside it. By the end of the meal, three soldiers sat at his table. They asked about the dog. They asked where he trained. No one pulled their chair away. The fear had not vanished. But it had cracked. Blackwood watched from the doorway. He had seen the whole thing. He said nothing and left. That evening a guard brought Cshooter a message. The commander wanted to test his new standing. Tomorrow, Cshooter would lead a squad on a live patrol. If the men followed his orders, he was in. If they refused, he was done.