Her shoes lay a few feet away; clad in shorts, her orange camp t-shirt, and a gray jacket, she didn't feel cold at all. Camp was almost never cold, even if she were about six feet from the waterline right now.
A bunch of rocks and seashells she had collected lay by her feet, taken from the forest and the paths to the beach on her way to let off a little steam. Running was out of the question at night, and so was, for that matter, training at the sword-fighting arena; Kendall was not in the mood to light up some torches just to see where she was hitting. With rock-throwing, she didn't need to worry about someone getting in her way: most of her rocks and seashells were really too small to hurt them (and the nymphs were sleeping, probably in a cave somewhere). With a sword, that didn't matter at all.
Leaning down, the daughter of Ares picked up a rock and flicked her wrist again; the rock flew but sank almost immediately.