Shrouded Away (Book #1)

Chapter: 8

Andrea woke up to the irritating sound of her alarm. As she sat up on her bed, her glasses fell from her face. The book she was reading laid open on her side. 

She stretched herself and got off the bed. Checking the time, she saw it was 4:56.

Already?!

 Morning session. 

Fear and panic engulfed her. 

Her heart was beating at a vigorous speed. Cursing under her breath she rushed to the bathroom and did her morning routine (and with an unsuccessful strenuous attempt, she tried to rub off the notes on her arm.) and pulled on the hooded tank top and the pair of camouflage cargo pants.

 She ran downstairs with her hair in a messy ponytail. 

As she neared the main entrance of the manor she could hear Auster's brutal commands. They were done with jogging. 

She peered out the manor's door to see everyone was in  three filed rows. She spotted Casper watching over the pack. Auster turned around to speak to one of the inspectors and she slowly walked out making sure to maintain her presence to a minimum. 

A few of them glanced between her and Auster, waiting for him to notice her. 

You could never trust anyone here. Even if you vowed to each other, they'll still save their own necks, they don't make friends here, they make allies. 

They were taught this indirectly at a very young age.

She got closer to a gap at the back, as she was about to fill it, she sensed something stopping her movements.

 Her left foot was stuck and she looked down to see a layer of dirt engulfing her foot ruining the perfectly mown fake grass. 

Completely aware of whose doing this was, she glared up at Auster who was smirking back at her.

"Well, Look at this mouse we caught today. Late for training" he tsked and his joking look turned into a stern expression in a fraction of a second"- I want you to jog ten rounds and five more for being late meaning you have to do fifteen rounds. After that, go to the training center immediately" 

He could've just said 15 rounds. Showing everyone he can do basic math.

 She pulled out her feet and walked away, warming up a bit, and started jogging. 

The frigid morning breeze swept against her face and she huffed in the aroma of petrichor, which was caused by the water from the rain, along with certain compounds like ozone, geosmin, and plant oils. 

She boosted her pace when she got to her fifth round and noticed everyone going back in the manor. She huffed and continued, thinking of ways to murder that man. 

She could run her blade through his head. 

Or slice his neck.

Maybe his limbs. 

Start with the throat so no one would hear his screams. Then his limbs.

Dig a hole a few meters deep and throw him in there, pour yogurt, then cover it with a layer of dirt then place a dead animal, and then cover the hole.

She possibly couldn't use her sword, maybe another one from the raining station.

Relief dawned upon her realizing  that there was no inspection today, it was always a habit of her to have notes sprawled over her arm. 

But this was the first time she was ever late intentionally. Punctuality was a priority unless she just purposefully didn't want to attend. 

Her nails would be clipped short and kept delicate except for her thumb would always be nipped.