I pass a young man and woman who look so alike I wonder if they’re siblings; they’re both gaping, open-mouthed, at the inner walls of the castle and the turrets beyond.
Most carry the standard army-issue bag, and I shift uncomfortably, very conscious of the fancy rucksack slung over my shoulder. Some look very worn, and are decorated with patches and pins, perhaps passed down from parents or siblings who also served.
A pang goes through my heart thinking of my father’s military kit. Mother gave it all back to the army to reuse. Said she couldn’t stand the sight of it. I wish I had something of his to carry now.
I find the check-in line and join the end of it, behind a boy who looks like he can’t be more than a few years older than Saela, scrawnier even than the kids from Eastern and Southern. His boots are so thin and worn, I can’t imagine them lasting more than one day’s march.
He senses my eyes on him and turns to scowl at me. I snap my gaze away.
The line inches forward. We finally pass out of the cold air and into one of the long tents, its flaps holding in just enough body heat and cast-off warmth from the smoky outdoor fire pits that a few recruits start shucking off their coats.
I keep mine on. No point getting comfortable, not knowing where we’re going, what’s waiting for us.
The officer at the desk barely looks at me when I finally reach the front of the line. “Name,” he says, tone bored.
“Meryn Cooper.”
He runs a finger down the list in the leather-bound book in front of him, then scrawls something next to my name. “Got you. Back into the courtyard, be ready for more instructions soon.”
The womanbehind me catches my eye at this, looking frightened. I just shrug and move along.
Back outside, snow has started softly falling again, and recruits who must be southerners look increasingly uncomfortable in their thinner jackets. While it’s perpetual winter here in Sturmfrost, the fiefdoms closer to the border are perpetual autumn.
I pull my coat tighter around myself, begrudgingly grateful for all the coin Lee spent on my equipment. Without him, I probably would have used the same ancient coat I’ve been wearing for years, a hand-me-down from my neighbors. I’d be in the same worn-out boots I wear every day, too. The new gear is strange, fancier than I’m used to, but it’s also warm, and I have a feeling that’ll be all I care about soon.
Stepping to the side of the growing group, I scan my surroundings. Imposing walls loom over the barracks and tents, thick as some of the alleyways back in Eastern. Guards pace back and forth at regular intervals, some staring outward, but others clearly directing their attention inward, at us.
An icy chill that has nothing to do with the weather slides down my spine. They’re not just keeping other things out—the walls are keeping us in.
But then, what would I do if I found out only now what we were headed for?
The recruits around me start to quiet, an anticipatory hush, and I turn my attention back to the group. Beyond the milling crowd of young people, I see one of the officers from the tentclimbing a wooden platform, waving his arms. He holds a cone-shaped voice amplifier.
When everyone is silent, he puts the amplifier to his mouth and his voice booms out. “Congratulations, recruits! You’ve been chosen to be part of the Bonding Trials.”
A few people near me gasp, and a younger kid to my left mutters, “Bonding? But… that’s not…”
The announcer’s voice cuts him off. “In ten minutes, we’ll begin our hike to Mount Wolfsbane. You’ll be setting up camp there tonight, your first introduction to the army. You’ll each be given a standard issue tent and kit, and a cadet will accompany each group to show you how to set them up.”
Around me, people have covered their faces in their hands; one girl is openly crying.
Guess the rumors about the deaths during the Bonding Trials have reached even the farthest-flung fiefdoms.
“Tomorrow morning at dawn, the Ascent begins, the first of the Trials. You will each be given the greatest privilege our country can give you: the chance to bond with a direwolf. If you do not succeed in bonding…” he pauses, and I hear the words he doesn’t say: If you do not succeed in bonding, and also manage not to die. “The rest of you will be brought back here after the Ascent, to board transport to the front lines, where your training will be conducted.”
A horn blasts, the sound strange and reverberant in the swirling snow. “Head to the tent along the southern wall to grab your gear, and more supplies if you need them,” the officer concludes. “Good luck.”
One woman turns to me, wide eyed and terrified. “I hear that a lot of people die during this, that’s not what I signed up for.” Her voice wavers. “I want to go fight, help at the front—not die on my first day.”
I nod my agreement, although at least this isn’t the first time I’m hearing the news. But being put forward as a Bonded companion to a direwolf?Definitelynot what I signed up for.
“Looks like the gear tent is over that way,” I gesture. “Should we go before all the best stuff is taken?”
She falls in step with me. “I’m Alessandra,” she shares, and I give her my name. “Don’t you think they should at least give us training first before… before the Ascent?”
Our conversation is cut off when we reach the flaps of the tent and a team of guards and officers is directing us into different lines.
Those who obviously wear clothes designed to keep them warm are directed into a line to grab their tents and gear packs right away. Others, the ones with threadbare clothing, worn-out shoes—they go into another line, where I glimpse a picked-over table stacked with some outer garments and shoes.
