The Luna Who Hate Me

Amelia's POV
“Run!”
The clanging of an axe head on the rough edges of wood mixed with the whistling from a kettle and black coffee beans woke me up as I stirred gently in my sleep. I rub my eyes with that back of my palm and peered from my window to see no one other than my dad, chopping off firewood.
Smiling brightly, I sprang to my feet and made way to the kitchen where I turned off the cooker and let the tea off the stove. Yawning, I poured some tea into a clean teacup and headed outside.
“Good morning Papa.” I greeted, cheerily.