Pale Scar (The Beginning, Ch. 1)

A screeching woke Scarlet, peircing the silence and popping her peaceful atmosphere. She reached out for her Bell, but found only empty air, which forced her to open her eyes. Cursing daylight, Bells, and most everything else she could think of without fully waking, she lifted herself from the pillow. Once she had located the timepiece from Hades, she made a commendable effort to put her fist through the metal. She cursed her temper a moment later as the ringer faded from existance.
Today would not be a good day. It couldn't be.
Scarlet's woolen robe slid on easily, covering her neck, arms and thighs. She laced up the back to bone-crushing tightness. The fur vest she wore just as strictly needed new bleaching.
Three of her best comrades had fallen behind last night. Selectors had already replaced them, she knew, but it would still take her days to become accostomed to the change.
Her bootstraps - bleached leather - wrapped up around her calves to fasten the animal skins securely. Scarlet turned and thanked the Cotter who had braided her long, unnaturally silver hair. It had been personalized and tricked, and would not tell on her for waking so early . . . or leaving.
She paused by the mirror to stare at her reflection. With an unconsiously wrinkled brow, she wondered if she could try to add color to herself. She didn't know why her mother had named her Scarlet, but it was obvious she was ill-named. That's not what everyone else thought. She did not live up to her name. Here, this was almost a crime.
Turning, she noticed the Cotter using Observance. "Do not report," she commanded as she grabbed her pack. The Cotter faded into dormancy and Scarlet left the room.

With the veil over her face, Scarlet looked like a sheet of moving snow amongst the icy landscape.