7. The Proper Army Welcome

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Chapter Seven:

The Proper Army Welcome

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It had seemed that Harriet had just drifted off to sleep when suddenly she found herself drenched in ice-cold water. Gasping, she sat up as fast as she could, wiping at her eyes to get the water out of them, all while her gasping noises were accompanied by loud snorts of laughter.

"Wakey, wakey, little soldier. Time to get up!" Garreth shouted, his hands holding on to his barrel-like chest as he wheezed in laughter.

Harriet shivered in her bedroll, glaring up at the three men staring down at her.

"Was that supposed to be the proper army welcome?" Harriet said, her words coming out through clenched teeth. That caused the men to start to laugh again.

"No, that was just your wake up call! Don't you worry little soldier, your welcome will be coming to you all day, every day, for as long as we want it to," Garreth told her, throwing the bucket that must've held the water at her. Harriet fumbled to catch it before it hit her in the face, barely getting a good hold on it.

"Better get up little soldier, Breakfast ends in ten minutes," John shouted over his shoulder as he and the two other men left the tent. Harriet's eyes widened at his words before she scrambled out of bed.

Hopping around on one foot, she tried to put on her boots, tuck in her wet shirt, and straighten her pants all at the same time. She didn't even bother to touch her hair. After all it was short now, she figured it was fine the way it was.

With all of the grace of a beached whale, she darted out of the tent and rushed towards the mess tent, stumbling as she went in the leftover mud. She hoped there was at least some food left and so she hurried her steps, but as she crossed the threshold, a foot stuck out in front of her path, causing her to go flying.

With a groan she landed almost on top of someone's feet and the next thing she knew, she was being hauled to her own by a large hand that was tightened around her upper arm.

"Mr. Greenfellow, that is hardly behavior befitting a gentleman or a soldier. You should not be going running around like that in a crowded area," Leopold reprimanded, staring down at her with a stern expression. Harriet gulped.

"I'm sorry sir, it was an accident. I got up later than I had planned and so I felt that I needed to rush."

"Then see to it that you don't do it again. Training starts regardless of whether or not you have had your breakfast." With that, Leopold let her go, turning on his heel and walking out of the mess tent, leaving snickering soldiers in his wake.

Harriet frowned. It had been an honest to goodness accident.

Harriet shook her head and then hurried over to the station that had food. Seeing an apple she grabbed it, figuring that something light and easy to eat would be the best option. Not to mention, she would have to take advantage of the fresh fruit now. In a few weeks there probably wouldn't be any left.

Biting into the crisp flesh of the apple, Harriet did her best to eat as quickly as possible; all the while savoring the fact that it was a McIntosh apple, kind of like the last name of Garreth. She bit into it a little harder, picturing her revenge for yesterday but as she remembered the time she cleared her head, knowing there were more important things to worry about. As she walked towards her tent to grab her gear, she continued to eat the apple, even when it became hard to hold on to both her armor and the apple at the same time.

By the time she had finished her breakfast, she had reached the training field. Men of all different shapes and sizes were mingling, laughing, or just standing quietly by themselves. Harriet noted where everyone else had put their armor and so she carefully placed her armor with the rest of theirs.

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