Time started to fly by for Nyla. February slipped quickly into March, bringing only slightly warmer weather. Fighting to keep her eyes open as Mr. Richards droned on and on about the War of Attribution, Nyla regretted for the first time her ability to memorize whatever she read. The ring didn’t diminish that ability, and it made class dreadfully dull. She jerked to attention by Sarah jabbing her hard in the side. Casting her a questioning glance, Sarah motioned towards the front of the room.“We’ve finished the War of Attribution early. I thought it’d be interesting to open the floor to any questions you may have. They can be over the topics we’ve covered or something else, it’s really up to you.” Mr. Richards stood waiting for someone to raise their hand.The room erupted into whispers, but only one student, a loud-mouthed boy who often berated Nyla, was brave enough to stick his hand up. “Where do Menhits come from?&rdq

Nyla didn’t notice the changing of the seasons until one day she woke up and the trees had new leaves. This was the first time Nyla could ever remember having this time of the year free; in the military, the first hint of spring heralded an arduous march back to District 4 to fight. She’d never had the opportunity to enjoy the refreshing breeze or the tiny animals that started to pop up out of nowhere.Much like the small critters, Mason emerged from her room more as the weather changed. Apparently, all she’d needed was the cold to disappear for her anger to dissipate. Personally, Nyla was beginning to believe that Mason was colder than the weather ever had been. No matter how much her parents threatened her, she still refused to call Nyla by her name instead using ‘it’ and ‘that.’ To Nyla's surprise, being addressed like an object slowly started wearing on her until she couldn’t help but snap at Mason’s snide comment one

Relief washed over her. If money had exchanged hands, she and Sarah would be roommates. Getting to the head of the queue, Sarah and Nyla were each handed a paper that held three names. “Who…?” Sarah questioned, staring at the third name underneath her own.“It’s Breanne.”The duo glanced around them, trying to find the quiet girl who hid in the background so often. They found her standing next to their literature teacher. Even divided by the twenty feet that separated them, Nyla could see the girl's hands shaking. A pang of something struck Nyla in the heart.I should be mad at her, but I’m not. I can’t be. I understand why she stays away, she has no protection, not like Eason and Sarah.“Let’s go see our room,” Nyla said, drawing Sarah’s attention away from Breanne.They had already chosen beds and started unpacking when Breanne shuffled into the room, her head down.

“Do you think we won?” Sarah huffed as they rushed back to the chateau.“We have a good chance, thanks to Nyla,” Eason managed to cough out between breaths.Nyla slowed down when she saw how much they were struggling. “No, no, keep going,” Sarah directed, clutching a stitch in her side. “I want that extra credit! It’s enough to fix my C in history!”Nyla sped back up, making it back several minutes before the other two. She waited on the edges of the clearing for Mrs. Smith to notice her.“Are you done already?” Mrs. Smith asked, blinking confusedly at Nyla. She nodded, smiling.“Where’s the rest of your group?” her teacher snapped, looking over Nyla’s shoulder.“We’re here! We’re here!” Eason cried out, running up to them before collapsing in a wheezing heap on the ground. Sarah laid down next to him, exhausted. &ld

Ten minutes later, she froze midstep. Something was different; some noise had been introduced that hadn’t been anyplace else. A deep, ragged breath cut through the night again. Starting carefully towards the sound, the faint scent of blood caught her attention. She started running again, estimating that she was several hundred yards from the place of the injured thing. Almost too late, she skidded to a halt in time to not fall into the gaping hole the ground became. Laying on her stomach to disperse her weight, she edged towards the opening. At the very bottom of the thirty-foot drop laid a crumpled, shaking form.“Breanne?” Nyla called down to the figure.She snapped her head up. “Nyla?” she croaked, her voice raw from screaming for help.“Hold on.” Standing up, Nyla edged closer to the edge, took a deep breath, and jumped down into the pit. She landed on all fours, a foot away from Breanne’s leg, which was juttin