Force of Nature

Chapter 1

It was a cool morning. The air was brisk. Brisk enough to raise the hairs on one's arms and create a tingling sensation. Maisri McDonald lay in her small double military cot, curled up under her thick fur blanket, watching the winter sun encroach ever further into her room. Its arrival brought to light her sparse, minimalistic environment, yet it didn't bother her. This was home.

She glanced at her old digital clock, precariously perched on an uneven log of wood she had utilised as a bedside table. The glowing numbers showed it was five-thirty. Time to move. Before any second thoughts could develop, Maisri threw off the blanket. The cold greeted her with a piercing force almost bringing tears to her eyes. Jumping out of bed, she began the daily chore of wrapping her upper torso in tight bandages in an effort to adopt a more masculine frame. She threw on her usual all-black attire of a long-sleeved t-shirt, thick fitted leggings, and cotton socks. Sitting back down on the edge of the thin mattress, she pulled on her combat boots, tying the laces tight.

Throwing another glance towards her clock, she swiftly padded across the worn wooden floorboards of her room to the mirror. On one hand, the materialistic item seemed out of place in the otherwise indiscriminate setting. Fighters quarters were simple, yet practical. To Maisri, they resembled the functional, mass-produced cells often found in bee hives. Impersonal. Detached.

Yet, somehow the mirror wasn't out of place. Like everything else it was small and old that it was beginning to fade around the edges. Maisri had found it on her first raid. Fighters weren't usually permitted such luxuries, but Maisri McDonald was far from a usual case.

Standing in front of the mirror, Maisri sighed. At a glance, she far from resembled a warrior. She had large hazel eyes, a full mouth, and a surprisingly straight nose for the amount of times it had been broken. Her frame was small and slight, and despite her best efforts to hide it, female, with an ample upper torso and derriere evident under her tight black outfit. Hardly a threat.

But, looks can be deceiving.

Upon closer examination one would note the fierce, wild, unwavering expression in her eyes. Her cheekbones were sharp. Her body was lithe, muscled and defined. She held herself with a deadly combination of confidence and strength that vast exceeded her years. If you really looked, she looked positively savage.

No. Upon closer inspection, this was not someone to take lightly.

With a smirk, she pulled a thin hair-tie off her wrist before reaching up to tame the unruly curls of auburn hair. Throwing her hair up in a high pony tail, Maisri briefly noted that it was getting long. She'd have to cut it soon. Grabbing a pair of gloves and her hoodie, Maisri headed for the door.

Once outside, she jumped up and down a few times in a futile attempt to generate some body heat. Small patches of snow covered her small wooden cell and surrounding rope bridges, which had not been totally enveloped by the evergreen's thick canopy. Habitually, the evergreens protected the settlement from the majority of the elements, but you could never wholly defy nature.

Making her way across the maze of rickety bridges and cell clusters, she carefully made it to the Talla-Mór. Situated in the heart of the tree-top community, it was the epicentre of settlement life. From holding political meetings and markets, to hosting all social gatherings such as celebrations and everyday meals, it served as a multi-functional space.

Today, the buzzing of numerous voices within was audible from ten trees away, carried on the back of the cool winter wind. Maisri hugged her hoodie closer to her body, bracing herself against the spine-chilling breeze.