The group couldn’t have scattered faster if a winter wolf had pounced among them.

“Thank you,” Seven said as Five and Six slipped away.

“What for?” Twelve asked.

“S-standing up for me like that.”

Twelve’s sharp response faltered—Seven’s face was full of warmth, her smile dimpling her cheeks. For an instant, she looked so much like . . . Twelve quickly shook the thought away—it was always a bad idea to think about life before the lodge. Still, before she could stop herself, she felt her lips curve into an answering smile.

She turned away, shocked at herself, and hopped back onto her stump.

“You stood up for me first,” she said over her shoulder to Seven. “Anyway, Five should be grateful. Hauling that huge ego of his around must be hard work. If I’ve managed to shrink it even a tiny bit . . .”

Before Seven could reply, Victory arrived, her expression thunderous. “Why are you just standing there, Twelve?” she snapped. “Get on with it.”

The weaponsmaster stood with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed as Twelve flowed through her routine flawlessly, until a pebble bounced painfully off her temple.

“Ow!” Twelve gasped, wobbling on her stump for the first time.

Victory tilted her head critically and rattled more pebbles in her palm. “You should have seen that coming and reacted. Constant vigilance, Twelve.”

Twelve stared. Had the weaponsmaster really just thrown a stone at her?

“Five was right, you know,” Victory said, her eyes locked on Twelve’s. “Dark creatures don’t announce themselves and they won’t give you a second chance. Now go again.” She jerked her head at Twelve’s axes.

And threw another stone.

Chapter

Two

Twelve felt the sting of a dozen more stones before she could deflect them reliably without losing her balance

“Good! Much better,” Victory said, a smile grazing her mouth. She dropped the pebbles into Seven’s palm and stalked away, loud criticisms of the next group already streaming from her lips.

Seven’s mouth hung open as she gazed up at Twelve. “D-did she just smile at you?”

Overhead, the sky darkened as a wintry evening drew in. Hunters slipped around the dim base of the walls, their feet crunching over the frozen ground to light the torches, their shadows leaping strangely in the corner of Twelve’s eyes. High up on the skybridges, braziers flared to life. The temperature dropped and a few tentative flakes of snow drifted down. Breath plumed before cold-flushed faces and fur hats were tugged down to cover freezing earlobes. Savory smells began wafting across the training ground, telling the students that dinner was imminent. The energy of the group dropped noticeably.