“Good luck, son.” His father pulls him to his chest in an awkward embrace.
Hawk hugs him back, drawing away the moment he feels his father’s strong grip relax.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He turns, taking the path to the Proving Center, wishing relationships didn’t have to be this complicated. Perhaps they wouldn’t be if he didn’t have so many words stuck inside his chest.
It’s early still and he wonders if perhaps he’s too early. But when he sees the timber structure in the distance, there are two familiar figures on the doorstep outside. Mercy, with her long dark hair trailing down her straight back, her posture one of someone used to the awareness that everyone is looking at her.
And Sam. Her nose in a book as if she’s trying to cram for the tests. He’s not sure she’s going to find anything useful in there, unless someone’s uncovered some research on how to grow muscles in your sleep.
“Hawk!” Mercy skips over to him and tucks her hand in the crook of his arm. “You’re late.”
“I thought I was early.” He frowns at her.
“Well, you’re late for being early.” Mercy laughs. “You’re the latest of the earliest people to ever walk the Earth.”
He smiles, more than used to his cousin’s dramatics by now. “What are you doing here already? You should’ve knocked on my door.”
“It wasn’t planned,” says Sam, not looking up from her book. “I wanted extra time to study.”
“And I needed to get out before my parents woke up,” adds Mercy.
Hawk had noticed how devastated his aunt and uncle were when Mercy had thrown her hand in the air. It seems Mercy hadn’t been able to talk them around to seeing things her way. There’s a first time for everything.
“Where’s Luca?” he asks, glancing around.
“He didn’t stay in our hut.” Sam lifts her eyes and locks them on Hawk in a way that catches him off guard.
He runs a hand through his hair and nods, unable to hold her gaze.
“He slept on the beach, I think,” says Sam. “Reckons he gets claustrophobic locked in our hut listening to all of us breathe.”
Hawk resists murmuring his agreement, even though he knows exactly how it feels to be cooped up when all you want to do is fly free. Still, one thing in common doesn’t exactly make Luca his best friend.
With any luck Luca won’t even turn up today and Hawk won’t have to discover if they have anything else that’s alike.
“He’s lucky he didn’t get rained on.” Hawk points at the gray clouds gathering above them.
“Luca loves the rain.” Sam shrugs and looks back down at her book.
The door to the Proving Center swings open and Jagger is there, smiling at them.
“Welcome!” He steps back and motions for them to enter.
“Where’s Dex?” Hawk looks around.
“He’s been excused,” says Jagger.
“Because of me,” Mercy adds, her voice straining with guilt.
“You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid,” says Jagger. “Follow me to the courtyard. We have the first test set up and ready to go.”
“What about the others?” asks Sam. “They’re not here yet.”
“First rule of surviving life outside Askala,” says Jagger, propping open the door. “The early bird catches the worm.”
“We’re going to get a head start?” Mercy shuffles her feet to catch up with Jagger.
“That’s right.”
Hawk grins, willing to take any advantage on offer. Especially if Sam and Mercy get it, too. Luca missing out is just a bonus.
“But that’s not fair,” says Sam as they step out into the courtyard. “Askala has been built on fairness.”
These words have Jagger coming to a sudden halt as he turns to face Sam. “If you wish to pass this Proving, you need to let that attitude go immediately. This isn’t like your past Proving. It’s not a test of heart and fairness—every participant has already proven they possess those traits. This is a test of strength and cunning. The Outlanders will eat you for breakfast if you don’t get that straight.”
Sam bites down on her lip, clutching her book to her chest and fighting back tears. Hawk wants to soothe her, but he knows Jagger’s right. He hadn’t said those words to be cruel. He’d been warning Sam of what she’s getting herself into. That perhaps she might like to rethink whether or not she goes ahead.
“Let’s check it out,” says Hawk, trying to draw them further into the courtyard to deflect attention away from Sam. She’s going to need some time to process what she was just told.
There are twenty baskets lined up with sticks poking out of the top of them.
“Are we building towers?” asks Mercy, rushing over to one of the baskets. “I love building towers.”
“We’re making fire,” says Hawk, squatting down beside Mercy.
Mercy lets out a loud laugh as she flops down on the dirt, making no move to inspect the contents of her basket. “Well, that counts me out.”
Sam wisely takes the position on Hawk’s other side, knowing Mercy is likely to be a hindrance in this challenge. Her jaw is set and her gaze stony as she focuses on her task.
“You can do this, Sam,” Hawk says as he shifts some of the sticks to see a large machete nestling on some tinder. He hunts around for a flint, but there isn’t one. It seems he’ll need to do this job from scratch.
He’s seen his father light a fire this way a few times. Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention. Luca will know what to do. That is if he actually turns up. He used to follow Hawk’s dad around as a kid asking approximately a hundred questions a minute about how to do things. It’s no coincidence that this was around the exact same time that Hawk’s dislike for Luca began.
“How do the tokens work?” Mercy shoots Jagger one of her killer smiles. “I don’t really have to build a fire, do I?”
“One token for participation. An extra token for successfully making a fire.” Jagger walks over to a long table against a wall that Hawk hadn’t noticed. There are twenty clay urns lined up, each with one of their names etched into the front. It reminds him of the stones that border the ballroom, each marked with the name of a loved one no longer with them. He can only hope that’s not a sign of things to come.
“I can’t see mine.” Mercy is scanning the table with a frown.
“It’s on the far right,” says Sam, staring at the urns as if they’re poisonous snakes.
“Oh.” Mercy claps like this is some kind of game. “So it is.”
“At the end of each test, you’ll be asked to post your token through a slot in the lid of your chosen urn. The six who get the most become Seekers.”
“But we can’t see through them to know who has the most,” says Sam.
“That’s right. We’ll count them at the end.”
There’s a noise at the door and Gust walks through, flanked by his older brother, Bryan.
“What’s going on?” Gust frowns. “Have you started without us?”
“You may begin at any time,” says Jagger. “Welcome.”