Things settled down into a routine again, much like they had in the lead up to the Dark Night celebrations the year before. Only instead of Rawley trying to cram years worth of huntress training into my head in only two months, now I had Tufani drilling every tiny fact about storm birds and flying that she could think of into our heads—and she had the full four months to do it.

She also made Barra give everyone in the cohort a glass piece, so that they couldn’t loose another Sprout while we were at the Rookery. Barra grudgingly slipped different glass bits from her hair and clothes with a look that said we’d pay if we lost ours.

After the first week of training we were allowed to move from the beginner shoots to the intermediate ones. They were steeper and had quicker turns than the ones we started with—and the gaps between the slides were smaller so it was more likely to hit our head or feet on something if we weren’t paying attention.

We learned that lesson well on the first day Tufani started us on the intermediate slides. Dera didn’t react quick enough after rounding a turn and hit her head on a shoot that barely passed over the one she was in. Then she got more bumped and bruised during her uncontrolled descent down the shoot.

Those of us on the top of the cliff weren’t able to do much of anything but strain to see down below and speculate, but luckily the Rookery Tribe had a healer that had been keeping an eye on us and he came running quickly. I hated that I couldn’t help. Dera got patched up quickly though she wasn’t allowed back on the shoots for a handful of days and could only do the lighter exercises and tasks we were assigned. From her expression, Dera didn’t want to slide down the shoots ever again, but I doubted she had a choice.

From what I could see of her bandages, the healer was competent, but I did my best to learn as little about him as possible. It was bad enough noticing that he was more tolerated than I had ever been, even if it wasn’t to extent of the black handed healers in the Seedling Palace.

Wren stuck close to Dera as she recovered. I did my best to ignore that annoyance too. I knew I didn’t have any kind of claim on Wren’s company, especially when I pushed her away whenever she tried to be nice. Dera deserved someone doting on her.

Still, somehow, knowing that made seeing them together sting even more.

When Wren got pulled away by Tufani to have “specialized training”—which seemed more like Tufani taking advantage of Wren’s blessing—it was interesting to see who drifted into the void by Dera’s side. Loclen was the most frequent, but, occasionally, Ento and Idra would get there before she could. Dera seemed flustered by all the attention. More than once I caught her glancing into the distance at a spot that looked quiet and peaceful.

For the briefest moment, I found myself debating if I should help her escape before I remembered myself and stopped. That was a dangerous line of thinking. I didn’t need to get involved and things would likely calm back down after she fully healed.

Juniper kept coming to me for instruction, though she became more focused on my strategy practice scenarios rather than shadow walking. Apparently, because her abysmal talent with the blessing had been shoved in front of Barra’s face, the whisper woman had begun trying to training her. The others who hadn’t gotten the benefit of Fern’s brief speech or wanted more instruction were allowed to join as well, but from what Prevna said the focus was mainly on getting Juniper competent.

Which meant, thankfully, my time teaching about shadow walking was short lived and it died after that first lesson. Prevna didn’t even press me for the hints and tricks she had been so insistent I share with group before. But, then again, whatever hints or tricks I knew were probably being outshone by Barra. Still, I didn’t press Prevna for what they were learning from the whisper woman in return.

I had the advice Esie had given me and my own experiments with shadow walking to figure out. So when they all gathered around the feathered tree to practice with Barra, I picked a random pine tree on the Rookery’s edge. I didn’t have a handle on what Esie meant yet, but my transitions in and out of the shadow paths were getting smoother, quicker, and more precise as I practiced visualizing where I wanted to go. If I wanted to step out on a branch, I stepped out on a branch or I wanted to rise out of the ground I did that. Picking exactly which branch or what side of the shadow I left from was still beyond me, but I knew better than to expect to be on Hana’s, or even Mishtaw’s, level overnight.

So we trained and practiced, and Tufani started Dera back on the beginner shoots again before moving her back to practicing with the rest of us. From what I could tell her injury and symptoms were all healing well.

Ulo kept pushing herself to be the best even in areas it was clear she couldn’t win. Breck still held the edge over her when it came to weapons skill and physical conditioning, no one was likely to make the birds love them more than Wren between her blessing and personality, and as far as I could tell she wasn’t leading the pack when it came to skill with the shadow walking. The only areas she really had room to compete in was who could remember all Tufani’s bird facts the best and who took care of their equipment the best. It wasn’t particularly hard to do either even if it could be a bit tedious.

And I couldn’t help but antagonize her. Just a little. We didn’t break out into any true fights like we had on our way to the Rookery between Tufani’s strict gaze and the amount of space we could put between us in between lessons, but I caught her giving me the death glare more than once from across the hut before we went to sleep.

Weeks passed.

A snowstorm rolled in.

Training stopped. The Rookery tribe got their herds protected as best they could and then hunkered down in their huts. The storm birds were trusted to hold their own. The cohort got snowed in together in our own hut. All twelve of us and practically no privacy for as long as the storm raged.

The single lucky thing about the situation was that the storm arrived in the evening, so we were able to sleep through the first long hours easily enough, though we quickly set up shifts for who was on fire duty. Not that we knew that much about tending to a fire other than to feed it fuel if it ran low. The fire starters could just snap their fingers if their fires ran low—and if they did any more than that I hadn’t paid attention.

It was difficult to keep track of time in the hut, so having strict shifts quickly changed into something else. We had to rely on the routine our bodies were used to and guess based on that. So when everyone generally felt hungry after we woke up we assumed it was time to break our fast and did the same for the other meals throughout the day. Shifts to watch the fire got strung out between those benchmarks unless one of the other girls decided you had been staring at the fire for long enough and offered to take your place. At night there were two shifts of two people got to watch the fire at the same time in case the other person fell asleep.

In other words, it became a favorites game. Wren and Dera hardly had to watch the fire for more than an hour even when they insisted they could keep watching it. No one tried to argue with Breck when she told them it was their turn to watch the fire and I got stuck watching the fire most often when everyone else was asleep. Prevna stayed up with me too, but that only meant that I didn’t have anyone I could switch with.

I didn’t entirely resent staying up since it was the only time the hut was quiet, but I did resent knowing that we definitely had one of the longest shifts. The first night shift switched between groups and I wouldn’t be surprised if it got split into more than one shift, because sometimes the person who woke Prevna and me up hadn’t belonged to the first shift.

It wasn’t fun and it wasn’t fair, but it was doable until Ulo decided to poke her fingers where they didn’t belong. I had been minding my own business, sitting on my bedroll near the door flap and trying to keep the memories at bay, while she was on fire duty and had, apparently, decided she needed to stoke the imaginary flames as well as the real ones.

“You think you’re so much better than us.”

It took me several moments to realize she was talking at me. I just blinked at her and waited for the rest of what she had to say to fall out of her mouth. Better to know what I had to work with, so I could cut her best. Between being cooped up in the hut with eleven other people for at least two days, boredom, and sheer dislike I wasn’t in the mood to shrug off whatever she had to say.

Ulo kept running her mouth as she stared me down and everyone else quieted down to watch. “You walk around like you’re so much better than us, but you’re life ridden and there’s rumors you healed someone. You don’t try during training and it seems like everyone just forgot that you punched a whisper woman! I don’t care that you killed the water snake or that you have that mark on your chin! You might have it easy because you don’t have to worry about anything killing you, but you’re wrong and you don’t deserve to be here!”

I blinked again, shocked at how many directions I could take the argument. At the sheer misconception that I had nothing to fear. At the idea that Ulo might be jealous about anything that had to do with me. But then again…

I drew my prayer needle out as I stood up. Then I slipped on a smug expression as I pricked a finger and drew the blood over the dots on my chin. “Thanks for paying so much attention to my accomplishments. Perhaps if you want some of that recognition you could follow in my footsteps.”

Ulo flushed with anger. “I don’t—”

“Be honest for once.” I waved a dismissive hand. “You’re jealous there’s already so many stories about me, aren’t you? Thought you’d be the star of our cohort just like you were back in your tribe?”

“Gimley,” Wren warned.

I was a little surprised it was her and not Prevna, but when I glanced to the side Prevna was busy glaring at Wren.

“Perhaps you should be warning Ulo. She’s the one that started it,” Prevna snapped.

Wren started to reply, but Ulo stood up and cut in to keep the argument going, “You think you’re so…so clever, don’t you? That you can get away with anything and we’ll all just go along with it? I’ll never…”

Mother stood by the small fire in the healer’s tent, giving me her favorite look of disappointment. “Why can’t you learn to be smart rather than clever?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head, knowing that was wrong, that I couldn’t be anywhere near her or the tent. When I opened them again Ulo was back in front of me again, still yelling. I could feel the memory still at the back my mind, ready to take over at a moment’s weakness. Could still smell the mix of plants, sweat, and smoke that filled the air inside the healing tent.

Nii and Wren were trying to talk Ulo down, get her to retreat to the other side of the hut, but Ulo wasn’t having any of it. Some of the others were staring at me too and in them I could feel the twins glares as they dared to peek into the tent to watch Mo—her tear me down.

Ulo’s arguments weren’t even good, if they could even be considered arguments. But, somehow, the accusations had struck on the refrain I had been hearing for as long as I could remember.

The memory pressed even closer as I desperately tried to think of something to say, to cut her off—but it was Mother standing before me. I couldn’t cut her off, not unless I was fine with her withholding her lesson on the new treatment she was going to teach me today. I had already said something she didn’t like.

The healing tent—no, the hut pressed in on all sides. Others had joined in on the argument with Ulo now, but Prevna and Dera and Loclen were all looking at me strangely. Prevna with a bit more recognition in her eyes than the others.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that there was a snowstorm raging outside or that I might learn what it was like to be frozen all over again. I couldn’t let them all see me like this, couldn’t give them that weakness to exploit or give them questions that would hurt to hear even if I refused to answer.

If I stayed the memory would definitely overtake me in front of everyone…if I left I wouldn’t be trapped anymore.

The answer was simple.

I focused hard on Prevna. “Don’t come after me. Don’t tell them.”

She started to protest but I scrambled backwards and pulled the knots holding the door flap closed loose. Multiple people cried out as cold, snowy air burst into the hut. I shoved my way out into a snow bank higher than my knees. It probably would have been even higher but the wind was still whipping around so hard that it didn’t let all the snow settle.

The others could shut the flap.

I had only one thought: get away.