The allocation process began right after the medical examinations. The recruits were lined up once again, their names called out one by one by a stern-looking administrative officer with a clipboard in hand. Each recruit was handed a slip of paper with their dormitory number scrawled in bold black ink. Male recruits were directed down one corridor, while female recruits were ushered toward another wing of the barracks, their dusty shoes echoing against the polished stone floor as they moved.
Winter's name, Fiona Madison was called in the middle of the list. She accepted her slip quietly and followed the line of women through a narrow hallway that smelled faintly of disinfectant and new paint. At the end of the corridor, double metal doors opened into Dormitory C-4, a wide rectangular room with tall windows that let in streams of sunlight.
Inside, rows of identical bunk beds stretched from one wall to the other, neatly made with gray sheets and stiff white pillows. The air was heavy with the mingled smell of sweat, and nervous recruits.
Winter didn't hesitate. She crossed the room with calm, steady steps and claimed a lower bunk at the far end of the wall, the spot that gave her a clear view of both the room and the door. It wasn't comfort she sought, it was strategy. Corners were harder to surprise.
Recruits began trickling in behind her, filling the bunks with chatter and energy. Some laughed about the medical checks, others compared their hometowns, already beginning to form small cliques. Winter noticed familiar faces but, to her faint disappointment, Stella was not among them; the chubby girl had been assigned to a different dormitory entirely. Winter supposed it was for the best, Stella's endless enthusiasm would have drawn too much attention to her.
Within minutes, the dormitory was alive with voices. A group of three girls in the middle row were animatedly sharing their reasons for joining the military.
"I'm here because of the pay," one admitted, tossing her duffel on the bed.
"My brother served. I want to make him proud," said another.
"I just need discipline before I lose myself," the third murmured, quieter than the rest.
Others, less interested in conversation, dropped onto their bunks with exhausted groans, letting themselves into the dream world.
Winter remained silent, sitting on the edge of her bunk, eyes fixed absently on the barred window above her. She had no intention of joining in their exchanges. Words were currency she couldn't afford to spend.
"Hey," a voice called across the room. It belonged to a tall girl with a braid down her back and a friendly, curious expression. She'd noticed Winter's solitude and was trying to bridge it.
Winter turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting the girl's for the briefest second. "I'll pass," she said evenly, her tone calm but firm, a soft wall built of words.
The room grew quiet for a beat, a few curious heads turning toward her. Then, as quickly as it had happened, the attention drifted elsewhere. The braid-haired girl gave a little shrug and went back to her own circle of conversation, respecting the barrier Winter had set.
Alone again, Winter leaned back against the cool wall and closed her eyes. Her stillness was not the stillness of rest, it was calculation, patience. The barracks might have been buzzing with laughter and small hopes, but for Winter, it was a battlefield.