Trench Pilgrim Lisbet, Soldier for Trench Crusade

When the dread forces first threw themselves against the colony’s walls, Lisbet had only been a girl. But her mother had taught her to be brave and her grandfather had taught her to shoot. That very morning the men had handed her father’s rifle and powder horn, along with his boots. The demons hadn’t left anything else worth bringing home, they’d muttered, heads hung low. And so Lisbet had crouched atop the timber wall through sunset, dusk, and midnight. Her mind and body repeated over and over like a holy rite: add powder, wadding, ball, draw the ramrod, ram the ball, pull back the hammer, fill the pan, take careful aim, fire, clean, amen, repeat! As dawn crested the bay and the last of the beasts skittered out of sight among the distant treeline, Lisbet carefully disassembled the rifle, cleaned each part, applied olive oil and bear grease. With practiced and precise movements, hands unshaking even after the horrors of the night, she reassembled the rifle, set it in its place beside t