The first night in the barracks was rough. It isn't that Zosime hadn't been away from home before; she had been on plenty of hunting trips over several days before. But there was a world of difference between a fur-lined bedroll her mother had sewn and the hard cot the army had given her. The scars along her bow fingers were still fresh, burned into place the day prior at the Demonstration of Skill the conscripts had to go through upon arriving at the capital, making them tight and difficult to flex. Her commanding officer had decided that was fine, because her skills with bladed combat were lacking, and that needed to improve rapidly. Still, she only slept through the night from sheer exhaustion, having been ushered out of the carriage and immediately into the demonstration without a chance to get her bearings. After a hearty breakfast, and a morning of lessons, they were finally given the afternoon to breathe and acclimate, and she had made her way down to the archery range to practice. Her theory in this was two-fold - one, avoiding bending her fingers would make the scars heal solid and render them useless and two, being able to shoot straight while in pain was something she needed to learn if she wanted to stay. And she did. More than anything. The life of a fur trader was not for her, and she had no interest being a merchant or a healer like her sisters. Despite the discomfort, this is where Zosime wanted to be, more than anything. She had only wished her parents had let her go sooner.
@azkeyva, plotted starter
