That afternoon, in the same mess hall where it had started, the three soldiers were waiting again. Not deliberately, perhaps—but with the kind of expectation that comes from wanting to see the outcome of something you’ve set in motion. When Mara walked in without the patch, they noticed immediately.
“Well, look at that,” one of them said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Guess someone finally told you to take it off.”
Another laughed. “Good call. You were making people look bad.”
This time, Mara didn’t sit down right away. She placed her tray on the table, her movements steady, unhurried, and then—without raising her voice—she spoke.
“You want to know what it means?” she asked.
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