Vestal Virgil (14)
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The soreness of her muscles woke her earlier than normal. She was a good climber. She had been one since little. But descending the length of the cliff had certainly put her abilities to the test.

She got out of bed and rushed to rinse herself. She had been as careful as possible, but her legs showed a few scratches, so did her hands and arms. She could hide her legs, but not the rest. She needed an excuse.

A large amphora rested against the fountain. She held it under the fountain’s spur until the water surged at the top.

Above her head, the purple sky reminded her of the morning of her escape. She trusted the amphora up to rest on her shoulder and walked ahead. Near the entrance of their common room, she let go of it, then dropped to her knees.

The clatter...

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