Fire Country

“Riiight,” she says slowly.

“Ever heard of a guy named Brev?”

Her eyebrows lift. “He started the Marked, a long time ago, seventeen, eighteen years I think,” she says.

“You know him?”

“Only from what others have said about him. He died in a hunt before I started the Wildes. Before I even knew the Marked were real.”

~~~

I’m more nervous’n a new Midder on her first day of Learning. My opponent is another new Wilde named Char, but she’s got me in both height and weight. And not by a little. By miles and miles. After this fight the ol’ nicknames’ll come back for sure.

“You can do it, Sie!” Skye shouts. I wish she wasn’t here to watch me get my butt kicked.

Lara pats me on the back and nods encouragingly. I wish she wasn’t here either. I just watched her pin her opponent in ’bout three seconds flat. She nudges me into the circle drawn in the sand.

Brione stands in the middle, the instructor for the hand-to-hand combat portion of our training. After my heart to heart with Wilde, I ate breakfast with Skye, who managed to drag her throbbing head out of bed. That’s when she sprung it on me. “Training starts immediately,” she said.

I wanted to throw up my prickler salad, herb garnish and all.

Brione grabs our hands, pulls them together, forces us to shake. “The only rule is don’t kill each other,” she says with a gruff laugh, as if she hasn’t been making the same joke for every match so far. I’m the last to fight which means my concern has reached a fever pitch. I laugh nervously. The girl across from me just squeezes my hand until it hurts. When she finally releases it, my fingers are mangled and stiff.

Brione backs away. “Fight!” she growls.

Char moves forward and I move back, my legs tangling ’fore I take more’n two steps. I fall backward, landing butt-first in the durt. Not a good start.

She pounces, throws her weight on me, one hand shoving my face into the ground and the other punching at my hopelessly unpadded ribs. I cry out, try to roll away, but she’s got me pi

There are a few claps, a few cheers. Char gets off of me, gri

Her smile wiped away by Brione’s harsh tone, Char offers me a hand. “Thanks,” I mumble, taking it. She pulls me up.

“We’re in this t’gether,” Brione says. “There’re no victors, no wi

Char nods. “I’m not just talkin’ to her,” Brione says. “Understand?” she repeats. Murmurs of yeah and yes and sure rumble ’round the edges of the circle. “How ’bout you?” she says to me. I raise my eyebrows. I’m the one who needs the support. Doesn’t she know I’m the weakest link? Her hands move to her hips. “Well?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Sure.”

After it’s over, Skye and Lara flank me with words of encouragement, You’ll get them next time, and Soon you’ll be strong enough to kick the blaze outta burnin’ everythin’ that moves. You can guess who said which.

After the first round of fights, Brione explains that the purpose was to see what level we’re all at. Now the real training begins, and Skye’s not just here to watch me fight and provide obscenity-laden words of encouragement; she’s one of the instructors. Although both my ribs and my pride are sore from the first fight, I find waves of excitement coursing through me. When Skye disappeared, she was no fighter either. Now she’s teaching others how to fight? Maybe I can learn, too.

They start with the basics: how to block, how to throw a punch, where the good pressure points are to make even the biggest man scream out in agony. Although we’re a bunch of girls training, it’s all ’bout how to take down a man twice your size. Then they do a demonstration: Brione versus Skye.

We sit cross-legged ’round the circle, chattering with excitement. Most of the girls are betting on Brione and wondering how anyone could match up with her size and brute strength. I’d like to think Skye has a chance, but deep inside I’m thinking the same thing as t’other girls. This’ll be over quickly.

Like everyone else, I’m wrong.

They start out circling each other, approaching, backing away, in and out and ’round. “Why doesn’t Brione take her out?” I whisper to Lara.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.

We soon find out why she’s being so cautious. When Brione does make a move closer, Skye’s leg flashes out faster’n lightning and snaps across Brione’s face. Her head rocks back and she looks stu

Brione ain’t done yet though, and while she takes more hits’n Skye, eventually she gets within striking distance and starts clobbering Skye with fists the size of tug shanks. Skye tries to escape, lashing out with vicious jabs at Brione’s face and head, but it’s too late. Brione picks her up and slams her into the durt. Fight over.

Just as she preached earlier, she extends a hand to help my sister up. They’re both all smiles. “What’s the count?” Brione says.

“Searin’ sun goddess, we’re dead burnin’ even now,” Skye says.

Even? They’ve beat each other the same number of times? My sister has beat the brute who’s twice her size as many times as she’s lost to her. Incredible! I’m practically giddy with excitement and hope.

“That was amazing,” I whisper under my breath when Skye returns to my side.

“I burnin’ lost,” Skye mutters. But her grin gives away the pride she’s feeling. “Anyway, fightin’s in our bones. You’ll catch on soon enough.”

I grin back, hoping she’s right.

Chapter Thirty-One

I don’t catch on that day. By the end of it I’ve lost sixteen times and I think every bone in my body is broken. For the last two fights I was so tired I couldn’t even lift my arms to defend myself.

Skye carries me back to our tent and brings me supper in bed. Lara eats with us, too, chattering on and on about how well I did and how I’ll get better and how soon I’ll be wi

Skye looks her up and down. “The searin’ top,” she says. “Tomorrow you’ll be fightin’ with the class that arrived ’fore the last Call.” My heart sinks. Although I know I should be happy for my friend and her rapid advancement, a pit of jealously pops into my stomach, growing and growing until it feels bloated with all the prickler churning ’round in my gut.

Lara’s all smiles. “See you tomorrow,” she says ’fore she leaves.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I say.

Skye zones in on my mood like a Hunter’s pointer on a bird. “You alright?” she asks.

“How am I go

“Don’t worry. You’ll—”

“Catch on?” I say, cutting her off and stealing her words. “That’s what you keep saying, but I’m not like you. I’m—”

“Weak? Scrawny? Ski

The passion in her voice humbles me. So do her words. They’re so similar to what Circ told me.