iii. Small Paws, Big Chances

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chapter three
small paws, big chances






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          THE NEXT DAY was hell.

          Just when Rory thought things couldn't get any worse, the sound of three loud bangs waking her up from her slumber had decided to prove her wrong. It wasn't even the good kind of loud bangs, that sounded stern or organised, like a gunshot or something. It was the annoying kind — like the ones that pots and pans would make when they topple over and crash against one another in the cupboard.

          It was infuriating.

          The sound throbbed against her already pounding head, as she fought off the urge to stay in the bed. She barely had enough time to rest, especially considering the fact that they had literally just drowned hours ago — when they were supposed to, well, sleep.

          Rory let out a loud groan, gruffly pushing off the covers from her legs in frustration. She immediately shivered at the lack of warmth, which had only worsened when she swung her feet over the edge of the cot and allowed them to make contact with the cold floor. Too cold, too early.

          The room that they slept in was different this time. She guessed that letting them sleep in their cold beds, and possibly catch pneumonia was a little too extreme for the first stages of training. Quickly following their fellow candidate's downfall, the guilt-ridden candidates were quietly escorted to their new sleeping quarters, dripping and shivering all the way through the hallway. The room looked uncannily identical to the previous one, apart from it being completely dry.

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