Camouflaged Strength

Chapter Two

4 Months Prior

pound pound pound

“Khristie! Wake up!”

I hate mornings. Who likes to roll out of their nice warm, comfy bed and greet the day? That’s just utter nonsense. Worse are those who do it cheerfully.

“Khristie!” pound pound pound “Your training begins soon and then they will start arriving! GET UP!”

A growl rumbles from my chest in response to such an annoying greeting. 

“I heard you growl at me so I know you’re awake. Get up you lazy bag of bones! I expect you to be down stairs and ready to train in 15 minutes!”

I grab the closest thing to me in my cramped quarters and throw it towards the offensive man hiding behind my bedroom door. A resounding crash followed by a yelp was like beautiful music to my ears. I couldn’t help but smile.

His voice no longer muffled by my door yells into my room, “You’re fixing that!” His voice  can be heard soon trailing away. He is no doubt grumbling more to himself as he continues back down the hallway and towards the stairs. My training master was predictable that way. I guess that’s what happens when you live and train with someone for a little over 10 years.

Groaning, I try rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and silently pray that this is all really just a bad dream. That I’ll wake up in a reality where I haven’t beaten the sun rising. One would think after all this time I would be used to it, but what can I say? I love my sleep. My wishful thinking only wasted time. I roll over to access the damage. I smirk as I take in the scene before me. There are wood chunks of all sizes everywhere. My once locked solid wood door was no longer a barrier against anything. It now looked like a termite buffet. The only remaining portions of wood to prove there once was a door are connected to the hinges still attached to the entry way. The rest is strewn across the hallway and my room. Some pieces are even embedded in the hallway’s wall outside of my room.

A chuckle escapes once I see what caused the damage. There, lying in the chaos of wood and clothing with pieces of wood even lanced through its body, is my favorite pillow. It was perfect for cuddling but now it is only perfect for the trash bin.

“I guess I don’t know my own strength.” I chortle at my own joke but it swiftly morphs into another groan when I hear my training master yell up the stairs, “8 minutes!”

Damn. I sit up and take a quick glance at my attire. I am wearing the usual brown leather jerkin and tan leather breeches that are laced up the side starting at my knee going up my leg. Unfortunately, this is not only the clothing I slept in but the same clothing I wore all day yesterday right on down to my sweaty wool socks. I shrug. If my training master wanted me smelling fresh he should have woken me up earlier. He assumedly tried too but I was out cold. Typical. 

I scramble off the bed. My musings have probably cost me precious minutes I can’t afford to spend. I hastily search the floor for my shoes. If I’m late again...I halt that thought before it goes any further. I don’t even want to dwell on what kind of punishment my training master will have to concoct up! I’ve been late so often he is starting to get ridiculous. Yesterday he had me rearrange all the heavy training equipment which wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t have to do it after my extensive training and all my chores were done. Hence the smelly clothes I feel asleep in last night.

I finally find my standard military issued leather boots in front of the closet under wood and tons of dirty clothes that look like my closet are vomiting out. Appears more than just the wood needs to be cleaned out of my little room.