Lara collapsed onto the grass after two relentless hours of practice, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Pain throbbed through her legs and hips, deep and sharp, as though the muscles had been twisted apart strand by strand.
At only one hundred and forty-eight centimeters tall, driving the military jeep was torture.
The driver's seat had already been shoved as far forward as it could go, leaving her tiny frame almost pressed against the steering wheel just so the tips of her shoes could fully reach the pedals. Even then, every clutch and brake felt like forcing life back into dead limbs. By the end of practice, her legs had turned to jelly and her hips burned unbearably from stretching farther than they should.
The scent of grass and warm earth filled the air as she stared upward, trying to recover.
