The kitchen was mercifully empty when I arrived. At this hour, even the staff hadn't started their morning preparations, giving me free rein of the facilities. My hands shook slightly as I gathered what I needed - eggs, some vegetables, and a pinch of spices.
The familiar motions of cooking helped settle my still-racing heart. Crack the eggs, whisk them with a fork, add a dash of salt and pepper. The pan heated quickly on the stove, butter melting into a perfect golden pool.
My stomach growled impatiently as the omelet came together. I hadn't realized just how hungry the mountain climb had left me until the smell of food filled the air. The moment it was done, I practically inhaled it, barely taking time to appreciate the taste.
Every muscle in my body protested as I made my way to Training Ground 7.
