The test of discipline

The following days merged into a challenging fog of busyness. The dawn arrived with the steady sound of metal hitting metal, and the harsh calls of drill sergeants directing never-ending drills and exercises. Sleep was a rare indulgence taken quickly during breaks in training. Andre's body felt sore and achy, with a steady, dull throbbing, as each muscle protested loudly. He felt perpetually famished, the recollection of that initial dreadful morning meal slipping away like a far-off reverie. The gruel seemed like a lavish meal when compared to the scarce rations they were now forced to endure.

As the sun set and the camp was bathed in an orange light, Sergeant Bruiser suddenly shouted a surprising order on a cold evening. "Okay, you grubs!" It's time to see how well you can apply your training. We are going on a hunt. Tonight, you either dine or you go without food.

The tired group cheered loudly at the thought of a good meal, even though they knew another tough task was coming. Andre experienced a glimmer of optimism. He was not only physically powerful, but also skilled at hunting in his hometown. Having expertise in the nearby forest, he was adept at hunting and capturing prey.

They were led by a massive brute named Garron, they exited the camp in formation. However, it was soon clear that Garron was not a good leader. He stumbled noisily through the bushes, causing any potential prey to flee. Andre's frustration escalated in his stomach, intertwining with the relentless hunger. Didn't this fool realize they were approaching it incorrectly?

In the end, Andre was unable to remain silent any longer. Advancing towards Garron, he walked with a combination of anger and fatigue that caused his vision to blur. "There is an improved method to do this," he spoke with a surprisingly steady voice despite the tremor in his legs.

Garron, who was twice as big as Andre, looked back with a sneer. "Who do you believe you are, peasant?" he shouted loudly, his breath smelling of old ale. "Do you think you can tell me how to do my job?"

Andre locked eyes with him, his crimson gaze filled with a surprising intensity that even he found startling. "He mentioned that we are squandering time," he said, his voice filled with a sense of danger. "I am familiar with this forest." Allow me to take charge."

Garron burst into a cruel, booming laughter. Prior to Andre's reaction, a huge fist hit his jaw with force. The world shifted, with stars flickering seen through his closed eyelids. He felt intense, burning pain in his face.

But Andre remained unfazed. He didn't stumble. A primal anger, icy and unknown, coursed through his body. He charged towards Garron, a fierce tornado of anger driven by both hunger and irritation. His hand, driven by a primal instinct, grabbed onto Garron's throat. The bigger man struggled to breathe, his eyes widened in astonishment.

Andre didn't mind the pain in his bruised knuckles as he tightened his grip. The situation had escalated beyond a typical fight on the farm. This was a battle to stay alive. "Do not." Test. "Me," he croaked, speaking with a deep, throaty voice that made the onlookers shiver in shocked silence.

Garron desperately tried to pry Andre's hands off, his face changing color as he fought for air. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Andre gave in. He pushed Garron, causing him to stumble backwards.

The head of their hunting group was lying outstretched on the ground of the forest, trying to catch his breath. He looked into Andre's eyes and saw fear replacing the earlier arrogance. "Do not believe this is finished, farm boy," he croaked, speaking in a rough voice.

Andre just gazed back silently, his intense red eyes not moving. " And also being hungry isn't pleasant," he said, with a cold tone and a touch of something ominous in his voice.

Silent and trembling, they walked further into the woods behind Andre. He glided effortlessly, his alertness attuned to the forest's sounds and scents. He guided them to an open space where a few deer were eating, unaware. Under his quiet direction, the men collaborated, with their previous arguing no longer relevant.

The pursuit was quick and merciless. With Andre's help, they were able to successfully hunt two deer, showcasing his dormant abilities. While bringing the dead animals back to camp, Andre felt a dark sense of contentment. He had overcome the chances against him, showing his control and demonstrating his value. They possessed meat. He was now more than simply a hungry new soldier. He managed to survive.

At the campsite, a cheerful fire crackled, throwing flickering shadows on the soldiers' faces. The scent of grilled meat wafted through the air, a tempting smell that caused Andre's stomach to rumble. On this occasion, they indulged in a feast. He ate his meat eagerly, enjoying the delicious flavor that eased both his sore body and hurt ego. He had shown his worth, not only to Garron and the rest, but also to himself. In this harsh new reality, thriving depended not only on physical power and expertise. It was all about being clever, about grasping the power relationships that maintained the functioning of this disheveled group of men. He had sampled blood this evening and he planned to continue doing so daily, in both a symbolic and literal sense, and he was hooked.

Huddled in his flimsy, makeshift tent, Andre tended to the throbbing bruise on his jaw. The night's happenings played back in his head - the exciting chase, the intense brawl with Garron, and the instinctive pleasure of being full. Weariness eventually triumphed, pulling him into an uneasy slumber.

He woke up suddenly, hearing the noise of the tent flap opening sharply breaking the silence of the night. In the faint light shining through the cloth, he noticed a silhouette drawing near. Before he could let out a surprised cry, a hand covered his mouth, quieting his shout.

"Shh, Andre," a voice he recognized whispered softly, its sweet tone causing a chill to run down his back. The recruiter appeared, her eyes shining emerald in the dark. She moved nearer, the smell of lavender mixed with a musky scent entering his nose. "Don't worry," she whispered, her lips lightly touching his ear.

Andre felt panic tightening its grip around his throat. Why was she here in this suspicious place? However, before he could respond, she lowered her hand and ran it across his chest, causing an unexpected surge of desire within him. Her warm and persistent touch stood out against the cold night air.

"You performed admirably today," she cooed, her tone containing an undertone that seemed quite flirtatious. "Demonstrate to me your level of gratitude, Andre".

Andre's thoughts were going a mile a minute. This was incorrect. He was not a gullible farm boy to be controlled. He pushed her away with a sudden burst of energy driven by a combination of fear and resistance. Backing away, she let out a gasp of surprise.

A chilling shiver ran down Andre's spine as a cruel laugh reverberated in the tent. "Great job, Andre," a voice echoed loudly from the darkness. Sergeant Bruiser entered the dim light, his expression impossible to interpret. Her touch causes most men to fall apart. It's not for you. You demonstrated discipline.

Andre looked back and forth between Bruiser and the recruiter, her cheeks red with rage and shame. So, was it an examination? A mean prank created to test his self-discipline, his capacity to resist temptation.

"Well done, soldier," Bruiser added begrudgingly, showing a hint of respect in his tone. "You've just overcome another obstacle. It's time to get some rest now. "Starting tomorrow, we will commence training with weapons."

Andre remained seated, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. A mix of relief and pride conflicted with a persistent sense of unease. This world contained an abundance of threats beyond what he had ever expected, threats donning armor as well as captivating smiles. He had passed the test for the day, but he was sure, with a chilling certainty, that there would be more to come.