Unmask(ed) || Ash Hunt

| three |

3.

Self doubt is for losers and stepping on the President's foot is oddly satisfying

♢

They're always there

♢

Ashlynn Hunt snapped yet another tree branch with her fist as she cursed again the idiots who dumped her here.

She had a psychological problem (or two), yes but that was no reason to dump her in the middle of nowhere in the most peaceful country (they chose Canada, reasons unknown) and tell her to "cool off " and to "get her attitude in check."

Who the bloody hell do they think they were? The fashion police?

Oh, yeah...the United Nations

Oopsie, but that's their fault for being so pissed off at a small personality slip up.

Anyways they were complete losers. Yup, you got that right.

Ashley into a swig of the ice cold water off her canteen and whined loudly when no more water came out.No! I'm thirsty! C'mon, isn't there a Starbucks somewhere around here?

At least they have been considerate enough to give her a backpack with enough supplies to last a week if she rationed the Oreos, which wouldn't last at all.

Well the food was easy to find, and water was easily provided by Canada's crystalline yet damn cold rivers, so what was left was shelter, something to save her sanity and a way to take off the ankle tracker they clasped on her foot.

When did her life become this crappy? Oh well, I don't know, maybe...two days ago? Ring any bells?

Ash sighed and started her trek towards an unknown destination. She walked between the ginormous pine trees, and stepped over long-fallen moss-covered trunks,

She had managed to snatch a smooth wooden bow before boarding the jet - or whatever that weird vehicle's name was- and as she walked, she carved strange swirls on its surface. They were cool designs btw, they were swirls and there weren't any little hearts. Ok...there were two, but only two!

Her foot suddenly sank into a patch of wet marshy dirt, and Ash had to clean out her trekking boots after pulling herself out of the mush. Gross! Now my boots are all soddy!

When night fell, Ash found herself sitting in the sturdiest tree she could find, overlooking a pristine lake. The lake mirrored a mirror- and she laughed at her analogy- to the bright full moon, and the surrounding mountains overall completed the cliched stereotypical picture of the Canadian nowhere.

The blonde shivered with the breeze's negative temperature, and hugged herself tighter, reminding herself that building a fire on top of a tree- or in mathematical terms for you nerds, FIRE+TREE= NUHUH- would probably lead to a forest fire, and forest fire equals UN sending Ash to a mental institution (at least until I escaped) and/or erasing her memory and brainwashing her to do their dirty biddings.