What We Know | John Laurens x Reader

7. Camp

Hey guys! I actually did my research for this! Not very well though, cause I can't focus for crap, but I tried. Enjoy!
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Y/N's POV

Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I underestimated the athleticism of soldiers. Or maybe I just overestimated myself.

Almost immediately after I gave the grumpy man with the list my name, this one soldier dude with a funky hat yelled, "MOVE OUT!". We walked from until sunrise the next day, heading away from the city. Away from my sister.

I've never considered myself an athlete, but I never thought I was in bad shape. Let's just say that while walking with these men, my opinion was changed just as quickly as my breathing.

I was dripping sweat after the first hour. It was rather hot out due to it being midsummer, and our uniforms weren't exactly light and thin. Just the feeling of the heavy material sticking to my sweaty back made me want to smack whoever made it. Sorry, Herc.

I realized pretty soon after we began moving that I was stood out from the group. Figuratively and literally. All of the soldiers stood in rows, like squares on a grid. I, however, stood awkwardly off to the side of the group not knowing what to do.

One of the men closest to me shot me a disapproving glare, glancing at the empty space in front of him, trying to tell me something. For a moment I just looked at him oddly, extremely confused.

Then my eyes widened and my face flushed with embarrassment as I quickly scurried into my place in the grid of men. I shot the man a thankful look. He glared at me some more.

By the time we arrived at the camp the next morning, I felt like dropping to my knees and kissing the floor like they do in the movies. I probably would have too, but my throbbing legs and wheezing lungs said not to.

I looked around at the flimsy looking tents scattered around the clearing.
Each one was randomly placed, yet they all shared one thing in common. They all faced the center of the clearing where two large tents sat.
One for the general and one for the wounded, I assumed.

"Listen up!" yelled FunkyHatDude, turning to face us. "I want three men in each tent! Y'all are to be outside and ready to begin your training in one hour! Understood?!"

"YES, SIR!" The men responded. Men meaning not me. I just nodded. I considered giving a feeble 'Yes sir!' of my own to echo them, but I didn't think that they would appreciate my humor.

FunkyHatDude gave us one final glare before stomping off to one of the large tents in the center of the camp. As soon as he was out of sight, everybody paired up and claimed their tents, and, unsurprisingly, nobody paired up with me.

I huffed and kicked around some dirt with my foot. I could technically just barge into a random tent and camp there without violating FunkyHatDudes 'three men per tent' rule.

"Hey!" came a voice from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts. A man who looked about my age stood by a tent in the shade, waving me over. "We have room for one more," he smiled.

I rushed over to him, stepping inside with a quick 'Thank you'. There was a small cot against each wall of the tent and none of them looked any more comfortable than Goodwills cheapest dog beds. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Get-In-The-Grid was sitting on the cot to the far right.

I took a seat on the one farthest from him. "I'm Y/N," I said to the man who waved me over.

"Y/N?" he laughed, quirking an eyebrow in surprise.