“Come on, you can do it.” 

Yarik resisted the urge to punch Hob in the face. He knew the oaf was trying to help, which was a miracle, but it was obnoxious. It was especially frustrating because Hob was in better shape than he was. Being in bed for a month and breaking a leg and losing an eye took its toll on a body. Yarik was learning that the hard way.

His lungs were sucking in massive gulps of air, but Yarik felt like he was suffocating. His legs were moving, but they felt like two pieces of wood. Gone was the springy tension that used to propel him forward with each stride. It was replaced with a heavy thud that jarred his whole frame. This wasn't running, this was torture.

“Almost there, you can make it!”

“Shut up Hob!” Yarik snapped.

“Whatever, you can finish on your own.” Hob increased his pace. 

Yarik struggled to keep up and managed it for a few seconds, until his foot caught on a root. He didn't have time to get his hands in front of him and broke the fall with his face. When he recovered enough to look up Hob was staring. The big student had an idiotic look on his face. Not a smile, but a frown, and his brown eyes held pity. He left Yarik in the dirt.

Yarik got to his knees, fixed his eye patch, wiped the blood from his lip and the dirt from his face, and cried. Tears ran down his face and into his hands, and he didn't know what to make of it. They were not something Yarik was used to. He hadn't experienced them since he was taken from his mother, and that was a long time ago. Was he crying for himself? He didn't think so. Sure, he was missing an eye, had a bad leg, was out of shape, and was doing a pretty good job of alienating anyone who tried to be his friend; but he was used to those things, well maybe not missing an eye, but being hurt and alienated was his natural habitat. So why the tears?

Maria.

He remembered her expression just before she turned away. What was it? Did she feel the same as he did? Why was he even thinking about this now? None of it mattered anyway, or did it? Yarik thought back to the moments before the explosion. If he hadn't touched her face, would she have stood up and moved closer to the gate? If he wasn't such a pathetic swordsman would they have even been out there in the first place? He thought over the chain of events that led to Maria standing in that fatal position. It could have been him, it should have been him. Yet here he was, and what was the point now? He got to his feet. What possible difference could a half blind half lame student make? He wiped away the tears. 

The best I can hope for is to die with dignity when the beasts come.

Yarik forced his wooden legs to a plodding jog. He pounded through the sun dappled dirt floor and fixed his eyes on the end of the trail - bitterly reciting the Blades' mantra. "Dawn must follow night."

His squad members were waiting for him, huddled near the back of the yard. He tried to ignore the eyes of the other students as he jogged towards them. It was impressive that, in a place filled with outcasts, Yarik had managed to become an outcast. What was the word used for an outcast of outcasts? He muddled over this problem as he approached the squad. They were talking about tactics for the upcoming evaluation.

“I say we split in half,” Hob said. He glared at Yarik as the student entered the circle.

Pyotr, a tall, lanky student pointed out the flaw in Hob's plan. “Tell me Hob, how are we supposed to split nine students evenly, eh? Are we going to cut someone in half?” The rest of the students laughed, and Hob, thinking it was somehow Yarik's fault, glared at him even more.

Cavaar was silent, his brow furrowed. He looked at the ground while the squad members bantered. Finally he spoke. “Things are different this time. Normally all the other squads care about is getting KOs because they don't have to worry about raising a flag. Fighting happens all over the maze, which is why we usually split up. This time everyone in the maze will have a flag, and they'll all be trying to get to the center. I say we stick together. A team of two or three might get to the center faster, but then they have no back up if the fighting is too intense. We might move slower as one unit, but we'll have the advantage in numbers if we make it to the flag in time… What do you think?” Cavaar looked at the squad for approval and found Yarik's eyes. 

Yarik answered. “I say we do it.”