CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

It was the first workday of a new week; Monday, and like a worm slithering sluggishly on the mouldy soil towards its home burrowed deep in the earth, the contest, ‘Vestige of the Aptest’, drew nigh.

The morning sun soared above the faint umber-stained skyline East of Golden Lake and its pleasant warmth sprinkled over the students—who were going about their morning businesses, and the dewed meadows, pastures and buildings, too.

That monday morning wasn't as glorious as the ones the students had grown accustomed to over the weeks but still, it was more magnificent than average morns around the world and that was enough.

Golden Lakers, though, (on an average) weren't too perturbed about the weather conditions as they had a lot on their plates to deal with—which was customary to Mondays, and one of the many people who didn't was Harold Girard who presently had Religious Studies in the Lycanthropes Division before Geography i