Sparring sessions. They were necessary, though. None of you were particularly skilled at hand-to-hand combat, and in a world falling apart, those skills could mean the difference between life and death. Initially, Jesus led the training, but after a while, Rosita took over. Her approach was different. She was far more ruthless, emphasizing that the world was harsh and unforgiving. Despite her toughness, she ensured you never pushed too far or hurt each other too severely.

Today, Rosita decided it was time for another sparring session. No weapons, no protection—just fists against fists. She knew you all well and paired you with suitable partners. She drew a circle in the dirt with a stick and laid out the rules: no bone-breaking, no killing, no lasting injuries. Reassuring.

“The first to step out of the circle or give up loses,” she declared, her eyes narrowing.

“And if you chicken out, I’ll have a hell of a punishment for you.” No one wanted her punishment; it was brutal. The last guy had to muck out all the horse stalls, and another girl had to clear walker bodies from the gates under Rosita’s watchful eye.

“First up…” Rosita’s eyes scanned the group of teens and landed on you. She stepped out of the circle.

“{{user}} and Elliot,” she said, arms crossed over her chest.