The League of the Unicorn Hunters (Idea by: Wind; Page 1)

Chapter One
“Forward-march!” Major General Turner shouted, leading the morning walk around Base Noon. “And-cease!” The troops stopped dead, their grim faces looking straight ahead.
Turner started roll call, each soldier shouting ‘alive!’ at their name. They tried not to fidget, tried to be as strict and orderly as they always were. But today-today was special. Ten-out of all five hundred-would be re-assigned.
“Attention!”
“Sir!” All of them responded loudly.
“The ten opening positions are in one of our highest ranks.” He paused for effect, his eyes gliding over the large crowd. “The unicorn hunters.”
An audible gasp came from the soldiers. The league of the unicorn hunters was the toughest league there was-and the troops in it were the most respected. The possibility that ten of them would be adopted into this rank made their hearts pound wildly.
“Attention!”
“Sir!” They returned to an orderly manner.
“The ten chosen are: Zayha Rush, Boster Glenn, Jamser Adds, Alma Dotsly, Kelmer Bacabet, Talin Cats, Rosco Aahill, Sutton Zim, Antha Judio, and Abia Nellson.”
Silence fell over them as they realized who had been accepted and who had not. Shock came over many when the last name was read-Abia Nellson was the youngest, smallest, quietest registered troop. But she had been accepted for a reason and they stayed at full attention.
He scanned the crowd. “Release!” They scattered like crazed birds. “Those accepted-report front!” The ten ran forward and saluted, going straight to the attention stance. “Go to your bunks and gather all your personal belongings, then report here after goodbyes. Understand?”
“Sir!”
“I can’t hear you!”
“SIR!”
“Better. Release.”
They ran, saying goodbye to friends on the way, throwing everything they had in mud brown sacks and saying more goodbyes as they ran back to General Turner. Abia kept her head down, nodding at a few people who smiled and said goodbye, but remaining almost completely silent. Soon all ten were back, ready for orders.
“You’ll be reporting to Fort Eve by noon tomorrow. Copy?”
“Copy!”
“Outer release-goodbye.”
They gave sharp nods and walked in step to the base doors, which were automatically opened. At the edge of the outside wall sat ten old fashioned metal trucks. They had an open back cramped with supplies and covered by a tarp and a driver in the front, leaving space for one more person. One troop ran to each truck, threw their sack in the back and climbed in. Waving goodbye to the base guards, they rode away.