Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.
Sixty-ninth Entry. Black Lions.
01 SEP 03 | 3:30 p.m. / 1530

I know I'm supposed to be here, now. My forces are still here, always aiding me. I am so grateful for them and so proud of myself. Basic Combat Training had been going on for four days, now; it hasn't really started yet, but it's getting there. It's fun. REALLY fun. I'm a Delta Dawg, 4th Platoon COBRAS. The thing is, thought, that above all of that, I am a Black Lion.

A few years ago I was doing an exercise in the more mystic arts. I was attempting to find my power animal. I remember looking in the bathroom mirror with the lights turned off and seeing my face turn into a whole zoo of animals. It kept reverting back to a feline sort or look-no matter how bad I tried to make it look like a wolf. And in one instance, I saw my face take on the guise of a powerful lion-an Alpha and Omega. The mane rich and red, the eyes fierce and unwavering, and in the shadows of the bathroom, the orange fur looked black. At that moment on, I was a Black Lion. I have no doubts, I will graduate.

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