At first, Shazi winced, then her expression brightened into a wide smile. “Yeah, that’s fine. We can practice. Here on the beach?” She fastened her prosthetic back into place, the metal of the socket molding around her thigh until it was snug and comfortable.

“Sure,” Barclay answered. “Why not?”

While Shazi stood and drew a new saber to practice her footwork, Barclay summoned Root from his Mark. Root padded around on the sand, occasionally stopping to dig.

Barclay squeezed the bottle cap in his fist. “I need to figure this out,” he told Root. “Can you help me?”

Root wagged his tail eagerly. And so Barclay tried it. Wind! he thought, summoning a gentle breeze to hold the cap in place. Except no matter how hard he focused, the wind was anything but gentle. The bottle cap flew into the air and plopped in the sand at his feet.

“It’s just one mistake,” Barclay said, trying to calm himself. “I can still do this.”

Root barked in agreement, and so Barclay tried again. And again and again and again. The final time, the cap hovered for a moment, then it jolted and smacked Barclay in the face.

He groaned. “I don’t get it! There’s no way to keep it still. That is the whole point of wind. It’s never still!”

Root barked again, and Barclay narrowed his eyes. “I’m beginning to think you’re no help at all. You’re just agreeing with everything I say.”

This time, Root stood on his hind legs and rested his paws against Barclay’s chest. Then he looked at Barclay expectantly, his mouth open and tongue flopped out.

Barclay sighed. “You just want to play. But I can’t right now. If I don’t figure this out…” Then he didn’t deserve to be a Guardian apprentice anymore.

Maybe he was being too hard on himself. But Guardians had a crucial job to protect those around them. And if Barclay wasn’t up to that, then maybe he should just quit.

He switched tactics, back to the advice Yasha had given them when they’d sailed on the Bewlah. Barclay needed to think about something that made him relax.

Once again, he listed the facts he’d memorized in his homework. The Man-Eating Hasifuss. The Ickypox Plague. The Great Capamoo War…

Even when he scrunched his face up tight in concentration, he still failed. He had the urge to kick up sand, or to throw the cap as far as he could into the Sea.

Instead, he stole a glance at Shazi. She was so confident and tough. Barclay bet she never failed to measure up.

But to Barclay’s surprise, Shazi looked less graceful than usual. Normally, the metal pylon bent and shifted like an anklebone, thanks to Shazi’s Lore. But something had broken her focus. She stumbled as she stepped, and she winced as though she’d been hurt.