Owen had scowled, moaned and whined. None of that would budge Captain Harkness.

"But I'm a doctor! Not a soldier, why should I train?"

The dark clouds that had loomed over the camp for days had made good on their threat. Rain was bulleting to the ground. The tents were weighed down with water and no soldier was dry and free of the ankle deep mud. Well, except for Captain Harkness, for whom mud and rain seemed to stand to attention to let him pass, clean and dry. Prat.

"Everyone is training Harper," Harkness snapped.

"Is that true Harkness? Because I don't see you doing press ups in the mud and walking for miles with armour on your back like the rest of us,"

"Alright," Harkness agreed, "everyone is training except for me," Harkness turned with a swish of his cloak, "And that's Captain Harkness to you!"

/Edith couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. She couldn't even hear. Her chest was so tight it felt like Melty Face had grabbed it in his sweaty paw and was squeezing the life out of it. Her ears were ringing and black shadows danced before her eyes.

Edith was so red and damp from sweat one would think she had just emerged from her monthly bath. No longer running, she had settled to dragging herself along through sheer will. Every step was a struggle. A personal war between mind and body. Victory and failure. Strength and weakness. And every step she did not keel over was another step strength won.

"Move on Crawley, you've only been running half a mile," Harkness's voice hollered above the roaring gale.

That was it, weakness won.

She collapsed in the mud. Despite the cold, the mud was soft and Edith welcomed it like a mattress. She lay perfectly still, face down and breathing heavily. Her aching muscles screamed with relief at the rest. She could never get up.

Then it hit her. If she didn't buck up and start training, one day she would lay in the mud. She would never move again. She would lay there until her body became one with the Earth. How would it happen? A stab? Arrow? Illness? Would her skull be crushed in? Why would it happen? Because she wasn't smart enough? Quick enough? Strong enough?

Edith's eyes filled with tears. She had to get up. No matter the pain and exhaustion. She had to get up, get to work. If she didn't at least to try, she wouldn't have a chance.

Edith felt a damp hand clasp her shoulder and pull her up. She collapsed against a wet, muddy body, panting heavily. Edith looked up to see Gwen's smiling face.

"Are you alright?" Gwen gasped, sounding only slightly better than herself.

Edith grinned back, mainly due to the kindness Gwen showed, but partially fue to the fact that if Gwen was also panting heavily then she couldn't be doing to badly.

"I had just reached the end when I saw you keel over!"

Edith's smile dropped.

Gwen read her face and her grin widened. She drew up, no longer supporting Edith but keeping a friendly hand on her shoulder. They stumbled along, tearing their feet from the mud.

"I'm pathetic!"

"You're not the only one," Gwen said, in an attempt to reassure Edith, "That Tyler boy ran for about three minutes before collapsing completely. Too many potatoes if you ask me,"

Edith peered over Gwen's shoulder, where she saw Ross Tyler drag himself through the mud.

"Do you think we can beat him to the end," Edith asked.

Gwen's entire face lit up, taking no notice of the rain and mud and sweat.

"Easily"

"Cooper! Crawley! Stop chittering and move it!" Harkness called, snug in his velvet cape and comfy on his horse.

Edith and Gwen picked up the pace, exchanging smirks.

"One day that oaf will teach me to fight and then he'll be sorry," Gwen swore.

Edith smiled. "You can fight him easily, but I'd like to see you take me down,"

Gwen laughed. "Dream on!" she called, letting go of Edith and sprinting the last stretch, causing Edith stumble and fall.

"I'll get you for this!" Edith cried after her.

"Only if you can catch me,"

Edith smiled, and stood up.