“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Ryker panics, booking it through the tightly wound trees.

  I try to keep his pace, but am not quite able, already several steps behind. Kieran runs to his side, jumping over roots and mounds of earth as easily as if he was taking a stroll through a meadow, his head turned up, watching the canopy with feline focus.

  The Swamp of Galiatta has been a terrible test, and has only grown worse as it has progressed. When we first arrived, Moonridge was placed together, and told to explore and annotate as much of the swamp as possible, using our sparse map as a guide. Some of us were better prepared than others, but many will be left to fend for themselves, aimlessly wandering around this strange land.

  We were separated quite quickly, and with great lengths of panic, as a hoard of ravenous alligators broke free of the murky waters. The creatures separated us with ease, and it was only because of Kieran that I was not trampled into the sticky weeds.

  Not long after, we came across thick quicksand, which should have been obvious from the gritty muck on the map. But it was not for Ryker, who fell up to his waist, cursing and howling, most of his threats directed at Kieran and I, who for the life of us we could not keep a straight face. But it makes Ryker’s speed all the more incredible, as he is covered in the cemented sludge, no longer dripping and caked heavily onto his thighs.

  After we pried him free, we thought we found some reprieve, stopping to observe and make better marks to our map. It is then that we heard a low growl, the sound lifting the hairs on my neck. Even Ryn took off at the presence, squawking as he left.

  I jumped around, and let out my own yelp, staring into the yellow-green eyes of a panther, her fur so black she could belong to the realm of shadow and ash. She stalked the ground, bearing sharpened teeth, and lunged out, claws stretching wide.

  Ryker pulled me back in the knick of time, for the panther soon landed where I had stood, but as she turned around, a roar echoing through the forest, we had almost disappeared into the vined treeline.

  This seemed to give her a fresh target, her attention now focused on a frantic Ryker, who dips under branches in a desperate attempt to throw her off his trail. But it did not take her long to catch up, launching into the thick canopy, traversing the trees with frightening ease. Which is where we are now, entirely panicked over the looming beast, who calls loudly above our heads, coming closer with each flash of teeth.

  Watching in horror, Ryker once more ducks his head, but is soon pushed to the ground by Kieran, who has been focused on the approaching beast. She leaps from the sky, snarling loud enough that I almost fall to my knees, and hisses furiously at the prey she did not seize.

  Ryker’s face would be funny at any other time, but right now only instills more of my own terror. Kieran, however, keeps a brave face, and stands in front of Ryker’s mud covered body, his hands raised with threatening grace.

  The panther lowers into her haunches, hissing wide and spreading menacing claws, prowling slowly and keeping her eyes on Ryker. I skid to a stop at her backside, watching her tail flick with desperate desire.

  She makes a step forward and Kieran flicks his hand, which snaps a whip of shadow across her face. She yelps and jumps backwards, confused by the defense, and attempts to take him on once more, but meets the same end.

  It is hypnotizing, seeing Kieran this way, his movements fluid as he binds the eager cat, who wishes to do far more than play. He cracks down with flowing hands, each whip of shadow more powerful than the last, until the panther has been wound into a cage of night, her eyes narrowed and nose scrunched with fury.

  Ryker at last comes to a stand, watching with avid amazement, his mouth hung open and chest hammering rapidly.

  Kieran nods his head to me, and I try not to run as I meet Ryker, tugging on his arm as we pull away from the ferocious cats eyeline.

  Ryker looks at me as we emerge into an open marsh, his face strained and confused, before panting, “That’s the last time I ever help you.”

  I grow a smile and Kieran soon joins us, seeming unfazed as he turns to the mountain, which has at last come back into our view. We walk for many moments, all of the while Ryker gazes at Kieran with a mixture of awe and disbelief, waiting with eager longing for him to explain. When it is apparent Kieran will not broach the situation, I smile tentatively and say,

  “So…Kieran can bend the night.”

  “You think?!” Ryker gawks, punching Kierans arm, “Nightawk! You just saved my life.”

  Kieran blushes, and picks up his pace, shrugging as he at last responds, “You would have done it for me.”

  Ryker jogs to catch up, shaking his frazzled hair, “No I wouldn’t. I can’t do that. That was badass!”

  Kieran meets his eyes and gives a small smile.

  “How do we know she won’t come back?” Ryker asks, his voice wavering as he glances over his shoulder.

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  “I bound her until nightfall,” Kieran clears his throat, seeming confident and confiding no more.

  “How do you do it?” I ask. I’ve been meaning to for a while.

  Realizing we will not soon drop the subject, Kieran slows his steps and sighs, “I don’t know. I suppose it’s how all gifts work. I just…can.”

  Frowning, I think hard about my own. I used to be able to. And now it’s gone. It has been for years, I can remember distinctly the last time I transformed. I was 10 years old, and it was the end of summer, the leaves were just beginning to turn in color.

  It had been a hard year, fathers moods were more severe, and Dax began to pull back as his time for enlistment stalked nearer. He always took the responsibility seriously, even though he had close to a decade left to train. I do not blame him, for focusing his time on his studies, but it did make my time with father harder with each passing day.

  Perhaps my gift was stifled from the time I spent suppressing it. For if I showed even a hint to father I was bound to lose dinner for the night, even though I was always the one who prepared it. Dax would still ask, when he had time, but stopped when I grew meek about it, and shied away, giving him a clear sign to leave it alone.

  Those days feel like a lifetime ago, but the pain still pierces me as fiercely. If only Dax was here. It is terrible what happened to him, almost worse what it brought onto me, the thoughts and emotions that came with his death, the sight of his grave which I still see with every breath.

  Shaking my head, I push away the thoughts, the ones that I do my best to keep locked tight in an unreachable box.

  I look up from the mud ridden ground and catch that Ryker is staring at me, something like pain etched onto his face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” his expression soothes, though he clearly keeps his attention on me from the corners of his eyes, tapping his fingers anxiously at his sides.

  After moments of awkward silence, in which even Kieran seems to grow uncomfortable, Ryker bursts out, “What were you thinking about?”

  With a sigh, I admit, knowing he could feel my pain, “I was thinking about my brother.”

  Ryker waits a breath before asking, his voice quite low, “How did he die?”

  Flinching, I rub my throat, the words almost caught cold, “The rot.”

  Ryker nods with understanding, and falls silent. But it is to my great surprise that Kieran turns to me, his hand brushing my elbow as he whispers, “As did my mother.”

  I lean into him, and we share a small, knowing smile. Conversation then drops, left dead for a long while.

  After another hour of searching and marking our maps, Kieran clears his throat, “Remember that potential rock slide,” he looks down at the parchment.

  Ryker and I nod in unison, and Kieran continues, gazing up at the mountain, which we have just reached the base of, “What if it wasn’t a rockslide? What it is was a passage.”

  I think it over, tilting my head to the side. It could be possible, perhaps why they showed us that map in the first place. It would be rather fitting, to give such a small clue, for they would never reveal such information without expecting the students to unearth it for themselves.

  “I think you’re right,” I decide, glancing up at the sun, “It was west from here, we could travel along the base.”

  Ryker shrugs, seeming somewhat relieved at the prospect, and we travel west, for long enough that the sun begins to slowly set.

  The rustle of leaves perks my ears, and I draw out Dax’s knife, despite knowing that Suncrest was not sent out with us for this test.

  The sound grows louder, and we sneak around the bushes, silently observing the potential threat. I can hear Ryker’s heart, thumping madly, desperately praying it is not the jungle cat.

  To our relief, but especially Ryker’s, the movement is only Caline and the Thornbern’s, identified by Casanova’s loud burst of laughter.

  We step out from our cover, calling out to the girls, who stop with a jump and wave us over.

  “Hiya!” Caline smiles, as we hop over a murky creek, “Heading back up?”

  “We think there may be another way,” I admit, nodding west, “You’re welcome to join us, but it may be nothing.”

  Caline snorts, teeth spread wide, “Anything is better than that wicked climb.”

  The Thonbern twins lead the way, using enormous machetes to cut through thick foliage. They do so effortlessly, each brutal strike clearing dozens of stems. They will place quite well, when it comes to the choosing, something that we have all begun to think more about as the year approaches halfway.

  The days have begun to bleed together, each filled with the same ruthless training. Running and defense, hand to hand and weaponry. Not to mention Alec’s unending taunts, and Panthera’s overall unpleasantness.

  My hatred for him has only grown since our duel. Each cocky stride, every breath he takes, even the way he eats his food has begun to fill my veins with desire. Desire to put a blade through his head, to see his blood run quick and red.

  It drives my training, even when I run until the point of vomiting. When my hands spill blood and the calluses break and turn to blisters. It keeps me going, when Ryker knocks me to the ground, the air knocked out of me, leaving me bruised and sore. Each dagger I throw is done with the thought of his face, every slash of a sword preparing for a final embrace.

  “Fangera!” Ryker hollers, snapping his fingers in front of my nose.

  I startle, blinking quickly and frowning, “What?”

  “Gods,” he scoffs, hands on his hips, “Deaf are you? Xena found the steps.”

  Smiling at the thought of avoiding the bare climb, Ryker leads me through the chopped forest, and out to the where the group stands, their necks crinkled with how far their heads are tipped up to the sky.

  It seems that Kieran was right, and the rockslide was not that at all, but instead an ancient set of steps, so withered some have crumbled to dust, now slipped off of the steep slide. The Thornbern twins start up at once, Casanova grumbling at their heels,

  “This is hardly better than the climb.” She hisses.

  Kieran waits back despite Kaiya’s invitation, watching as Ryn at last returns to his arm, his feathers chilled with the frosty clouds above, which have grown thick and misty, stealing away the warming sun.

  Ryker claps my back, his fingers gripping my light jacket, “Ready to train?”

  Wincing, I sigh, taking the first step of the climb, “Fine. But this means no running tonight.”

  Ryker’s laugh booms in my ears, his strides taking him up two steps at a time, “No promises there, Mauvie.”