Rain entered my left boot before we reached the first marker.
I checked the buckle, found nothing useful to blame and kept walking.
The next step squeezed cold water between my toes. I tried placing my foot differently. That produced the same result from a slightly different angle.
Wonderful. We hadn't reached the part of the course designed to test us, and I was already losing an argument with my clothes.
I lowered my coat over the support around my arm and checked that the cloth beneath it remained dry. A wet boot was unpleasant. A wet support rubbing against the injury would become everybody's problem if I ignored it long enough.
The local course followed a narrow valley below the academy's training grounds. Survey posts marked the permitted area. Instructors watched from fixed stations and walked between them on a separate path. We were being assessed, not abandoned, though the weather appeared determined to make the distinction academic.
