The water splashed over Selene's shoes with a cold shock that mirrored the hot rush of humiliation flooding her cheeks. Time seemed to freeze in that instant. Her gaze traveled from the dark patch on the ground, up the leg in its scuffed boot, to the smirking face of the soldier who had kicked it. A raw silence fell over the camp as if everyone was waiting to see what would happen.
The mean soldier with the smirking face had sharp, spiky brown hair and even sharper brown eyes that gleamed with mischief. When she looked closely, she realized he was not really smirking; he had just such a hateful and evil look on his face that made some of his teeth show.
Selene was not sure of what to say. She felt the words build up within her, but still they seemed to die, to stop on her tongue, unable to make their way past her lips.
And then, as if things were not worse already, the soldier took only one step toward her, making her embarrassment turn to fear immediately.
