Shouts of laughter, yelps of surprise, and the clash of steel rang out across the training ground, but Twelve had only to wave an axe at Seven and the other girl would drop her weapon or fall off the stumps. In the end, she practiced by herself while Seven sat and watched.

Whirl, strike, duck, block, lunge, sidestep. Twelve ran through her routine faster and faster until her axes were a glinting blur. Beneath her furs she was unbearably hot, but she didn’t break her flow, enjoying the challenge of keeping her balance on the precarious stumps.

“L-look out!” Seven cried suddenly. This was quickly followed by a yelp and a crash.

Twelve spun around to see a tall dark-haired boy sprawled on the ground. His face was red and furious as he spat out a mouthful of grimy snow. It was Five—her least favorite person in the lodge, despite stiff competition.

“He was c-c-creeping up behind you,” Seven said, her face pale and defiant.

Five stood up, towering over her. “It’s battle class, you idiot,” he said. “Obviously, we’re supposed to fight.” His eyes ran pointedly over her weak stance and incorrect sword grip. “Those of us who are any good at it anyway.”

“What, like you?” Twelve snorted.

“We all know I’m the best swordsman here,” Five said, shrugging. “I thought I could help you, Twelve. You know, test your reflexes. After all, the dark creatures out there won’t announce themselves.”

“You weren’t trying to be helpful,” Seven said, her voice higher than normal. “You wanted to h-h-hurt her. I saw your face.”

“Really?” Five said, rolling his eyes. “And did you see inside my head too? You could tell exactly what I was thinking? Who knew we had such a t-t-talent among us.”

Students nearby snorted with laughter and inched closer as Seven’s face crumpled with hurt. Unexpectedly, a dull thud of anger pulsed through Twelve. She stepped off her stump, axes gripped tightly in both hands.

“Speaking of talents,” Twelve said, trying to keep her voice even, “do you actually have any besides being awful?” Five’s eyes narrowed, but she kept talking. “You’re not the best swordsman and you’re not nearly as funny as you—”

Five took half a step toward her as a stocky sandy-haired boy shouldered his way through the crowd. “I think you both need to calm down,” Six said firmly, taking Five by the arm and pulling him away. He was Five’s best friend, quieter and less obnoxious, but Twelve still shot him her fiercest glare.

“I’m always calm!” she said. It came out a lot louder than she’d intended.

Six grinned at her, his eyes bright with amusement. “So I see.”

“What is going on over there?” Victory’s voice rang sharp and hard as she strode toward the clustered students. “Get back to practice right now!”