The sun set over the training camp, leaving pastel trails across the darkening sky. Trainees were streaming into the barracks, eager to get their day's last meal, and after that, some well-deserved rest.
Wyrden weaved through the crowd, resentment still bubbling inside her. The 3DMG aptitude test had just ended. She passed. Barely.
What was with people and her- her- disability? Do they really intend to harp on it? At least the instructor had only made a passing mention. The inventor was sure that she could hear their mutterings behind her. She flexed the fingers of her right hand, and those on her left copied the action.
At least the connecting mechanism was working.
She collected her dinner wordlessly, settling herself down in a corner, still quietly fuming.
