Wordlessly, Micah followed Bell down the darkened streets, mind racing.  Of all the nights on which he might have caught a break, he hadn't expected this to be it.<br/><br/>He blanched a little at her direct question, but tried not to let his hesitance show.<br/><br/>â€œMy platoon encountered a lycanthrope ambush en route to the barracks.â€  He recited clinically, without emotion.  â€œThey'd been hoping to kill our captain, but he was not with us.  I was attacked and suffered nerve damage to my right patella and femur that was thought to be permanent.â€<br/><br/>He paused abruptly, mind returning to the very real events of which he spoke: even if he hadn't actually been discharged because of the injury, the possibility had been there.  He'd recovered quickly, and for this reason was able to remain enlisted.  But it had been close.<br/><br/>â€œThe same attack gave me this.â€  He added as an afterthought, fingertips tracing the long scar that ran up beneath his jaw to peek just over his chin.  â€œIt seems we can do nothing to escape the wars in the streets these days.â€  Words came easily now, to his own surprise, and he was forced to remind himself to be cautious.  He'd been warned countless times that the creatures he faced might be able to smell his lies, delve into his mind and seize his very thoughts...  His mind was trained and ready.  At least, he told himself this repeatedly.  The true test had yet to begin.