Nova ducked under a tangle of vines, gasping for air as the humid jungle wrapped around her like a wet, suffocating blanket. Sweat poured down her spine, soaking the back of her halter top and gluing stray curls to her forehead. Every breath came with a wheeze, and her legs—her poor legs—felt like waterlogged driftwood.
They'd been training for a while, and Nova might have grown somewhat stronger, and felt much healthier, she was still classified as fragile and weak. Especially to Aiyana's standards.
Nova huffed and brushed some of the strands from her forehead.
Her hair had grown a little wild over the weeks, but surprisingly, or not-so-surprisingly it was in much better condition than if she was using modern shampoos and conditioners, and showering under hard water back in her own world. Right now, her hair ran down to her shoulders, the wavy length pulled back into a ponytail Atia despised and stated he would teach her all the ways she could style it.
Not Aiyana… Atia.
