Miss Grimshaw glares at you as you walk into camp, staring at all the filth on your face. “Youre revolting,” she reprimands you, “Come with me.” She demands.

“Im sorta busy right now,” you say before she slaps you. “I wasn’t askin’, im tellin’! My camp my rules!” She shoke a finger at you, “Come on.” She pushes you foward, walking behind you as you begrudgingly walk over to a barrel of water.

“Get.” She points.