Ripped lungs, broken bones and bruised skin was only a minuscule part of their training regiment. Ripped lungs wasn't actually something that happened, but they did have one person fall off the climbing wall and shatter three ribs, only to have one puncture his lung. It was close enough.

One week had passed. Then another. And another. Soon, one whole month had passed since the 409th Cadet Corps first set foot in their small hell of a boot camp. Two months passed by and snow arrived, seeing how it was normal for Earth winters to do so. If Andy had thought the rain and the heat was bad, oh boy. She hated this more than anything.

Not only did their regulated uniforms not hold anything out, they also kept nothing in. Bane wouldn't let them wear anything over the flimsy uniform either, claiming it would help them adapt to any situation, saying they wouldn't have time to go back and grab something to keep warm in. Andy thought this was a load of bullshit; no man in his or her right mind would send someone out in the cold without a coat.

Running had become as easy as breathing to her, but she had supposed it would. Every month, Bane would tack on an extra five miles to their run. This was for everyone but those in advanced, of course. They had five extra than the regulars on some days. Right now, she was running an average of 25-30 miles per day, which is something considering how incredibly weak she was coming into this.

They were told to have finished all of this by twelve in the afternoon to be there for the lunch bell, and for almost two straight weeks, half of their class missed it completely. So, they came up with a solution. Instead of getting up at the normal time of call, everyone under Bane's command got up three to four hours earlier. That's right—anywhere from one to two in the morning. And yet somehow they all still survived.

"Knowing your limits" had basically been pushed to shit since they walked in here, pushed even further now that they were barely a month away from final exams.

Final exams—the thought that made her sigh every time it passed by her. The end of the year was nearing quickly, so they were almost the last class to take their exams. The whole concept terrified her. You did amazing and passed, or you screwed up along the way and failed. Once you failed, there was no going back. You couldn't take it again. Bane didn't believe in second chances, as obvious in all of his policies.

Earlier in the month, he had asked if everyone could swim and when no one spoke up that they couldn't, he had left it at that. The only problem Andy had with this is that she couldn't swim—she was terrified of drowning. The anxiety in her had almost taken over her body and she was unable to speak up about her fear, remaining silent even as he walked away. For someone who wanted to be a captain, she would have to get used to more people and social interaction.

She hated social interaction.

On the plus size, the benefit of not being malnourished anymore and constant physical exercise seemed to be helping her greatly. A surprising quarter inch gained, hair de-frizzing from constant change in temperature (like that made sense.), and she seemed to be filling out into herself more. This only meant that more and more eighteen-year-old boys were staring at her when she ran.

Not like she was complaining. Two years of menstruating and nothing happening to her body, it was about damn time. She had even caught her nearly mute roommate staring at her every once in awhile, as if trying to figure out who the hell this girl was. Even if she still was short as hell.

Something Samuel had once said to her came to mind, causing a slight smile to ride up on the corners of her lips. "Marry tall, Andy." He had said with a laugh, ruffling her hair. "Someone who has to bend down to kiss you and loves to do so." Andy, of course, had willingly agreed to do so and looked forwards to the day where she met the man. Even if he was a mere five inches taller than her—that would do.

Andy was never one to stop and ponder upon love, especially not at such a young age. Ah. Oh well. She would have plenty of time to think on her run tomorrow, but for now—sleep.