I frustratedly kept scrubbing my hair, trying to wash off the mud from it. I needed to get to a saloon to get this done exceptionally but when I asked one of those beasts in the farm, a bucket of mud bathed me from behind. I could not get their mocking laughs out my head as I hurried out of the farm to the hostel.

The incessant ringtone of my iPhone made me wash the foam off my hair. It was not as clean as a professional would have done it, but it was preferable at the moment.

"What is it?" I growled into the phone, without looking at the...