On her way back to her home, Pia stomped into every puddle she could find. Her shoes had been clogged with mud and her inner sock squelched with every step. The rain refused to relent and by the time she reached her front gate, Pia’s clothing was almost washed clean of mud from all the puddles.

Pia followed the back fence of Dwelling until it came to a T with a stone wall. The stone wall stood a few feet tall and was capped with an angled roof, and her natural waypoint. Here she turned right, and then left, following the long stone wall. It led to the main screen wall, or front gate, shaped in the traditional pagoda style. Two layers of high peaks curled up to the heavens. Dainty filigreed wood sat delicately on the roof. Pia liked to imagine what it must have looked like when it was first built. At first glance the beauty was present, but on closer looks it was clear the complex was in disrepair. Color had faded from the wood, and long cracks ran the length of the walls. Above the wooden arch, a weather beaten, and faded sign still read Dedication and Honor.

The ornately carved gates were difficult to open. Out of fear of further breaking them, Pia always leapt over the side of the wall instead. Today was no different. With a quick leap and a push of wind yi, Pia sailed easily into her courtyard.

Inside the courtyard looked particularly rough in the ceaseless rain. On a good day, the inner court sported an abundance of overgrown bushes, grass, wildflowers, and trees. There had been a time Pia had tried to tame the yard, hacking at bushes, pulling weeds, and trimming trees. It had seemed empty. Too stark and desolate. Now, Pia let life grow at will.

In this early, wet spring, not much had grown yet. Winter deadened trees still jutted their limbs towards the sky and the pots of dirt held muddy puddles. The pathway had flooded, scattering white rocks and pebbles afloat. It was truly a dismal sight and did nothing to lift her mood.

With ease of familiarity, Pia skipped over the worst of the path and jumped up onto the platform leading into the main hall. There had once been stairs to walk, but they’d rotted through years ago. It was only a two-foot jump, so Pia never bothered to repair them. It was only her who lived here now.

The main hall had the same style entryway as the complex. A large pagoda style roof with double peaks and a dainty filigreed top. The roof angled away on both sides, one heading toward a kitchen and another toward a training hall.

Pia only used the main hall anymore. Dedication might be a large building, but of all the rooms, only two were usable. The main hall and the kitchen to its left were the two she used. The complex was large and sprawling, but no one had bothered with its upkeep. It was a beautiful corpse, left to rot and decay amidst the confines of its own walls.

The main hall was a tall, wide room, which made it useful as a living and study space. It had five ornamental pillars set into the floor, one for each of the elements. Pia had often used them to pin study notes on the nature of yi to each one.

The main hall and the kitchen both had doors that slid shut and tight, dry roofs. There was only a small leak in the main hall, on the side that led to the training hall. It let in a tiny drip-drop of water, so she let it go. After all, in a few days, Dwelling would be only a memory in her past.

Pia’s few belongings were stored on the shelves in the main hall and her bedroll laid out beside the shelves. It was the dryest section of the room and the five yi pillars also created a visual barrier from the door, should anyone enter.

Looking out the window, Pia saw the darkening of the clouds. Despite having no sun, it was clear that night was coming rapidly. She pulled the main doors shut behind her and peeled off her sodden clothing. She shook them out and hung them piece by piece on the wooden pillars to dry. After pulling on some dry robes, Pia flung herself on her bedroll.

Her shins were bruised, her knee scraped, and her face throbbed with every heartbeat. Her brow tightened into a look of irritation as Pia stared at the roof. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands together and cycled her yi to warm herself. The air would start to bite as the sun fully descended for the night.

She regretted having taken a shortcut across the town. Classes had been cancelled for the day. Training all day she’d hoped not to run into any of her peers. It was bad luck that she’d run into Mai and Mei’s group.

Pia refused to think about it any longer. Pushing all the thoughts of her classmates, the fight, Mow, and her worries about the selection aside, she closed her eyes and let the rain lull her to sleep.

Dwelling was still half asleep when Pia jogged through town the next morning. A heavy fog hung low over the village and even in the faint light it gave the village a haunted appearance. Few classmates were up and about as she jogged down the main road. Most students were eager for even a few extra minutes of rest these days. With only a short time before selection, all the students were studying and training constantly.

Her eyes scanned her classmates as she went, looking for her friends. She was certain that Fewl was already waiting atop the mountain. He was more like someone who’d live in a hall called Dedication and Honor than her. Fewl was always first to arrive and last to leave when it came to classes.

Her eyes caught on a familiar crooked half knot ahead of her and Pia grinned. With a burst of speed, Pia dashed forward, launching herself at the boy.

“Conch, my favorite friend,” she yelled right in his ear.

Conch spun around, surprise flashing across his face, but Pia’s quick tightening of her arms saved her from tumbling away. She laughed, squeezing him tight.

“Favorite friend? Wait till Fewl hears,” Conch said, giving a good natured grin.

Pia hopped off her friend and fell into step beside him. Her mood was now bright and happy, pleased to be with her friend.

“Oh, Fewl is the light in the heavens. The god amongst men. The pearl amongst grapes. The—" her voice cut off as Conch grabbed her braids and tugged.

“I feel I’ve been slighted now,” he said, flashing her his crooked grin. “Really it’s just because he sometimes lets you read his notes before tests.”

Pia couldn’t resist reaching out and pinching his cheek, saying, “You’re disgustingly cute this early in the morning.”

It was true. Their classmates called him amiably or charmingly handsome. His dark brown eyes shone with a dreamy warmth that drew others in. No one could dislike Conch; he had a knack for befriending almost anyone. Always quick to show his dimply smile, Conch was the object of many of Dwelling’s affections. Pia might’ve hated him if he wasn’t so indifferent to the attention.

Perhaps it was the side effect of having five older brothers who teased him endlessly, or that Conch was too easy going to have an ego. Conch wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Pia grinned and tossed hers around him. The two looked eye to eye at each other.

Pia knew she was tall for a girl, but she liked the subtle reminder it gave Conch. All Conch’s brothers towered over him and loved to tease him about his height. Pia grinned slyly at the look on his face.

He gave her a flat, unamused look and pinched her side. Pia flinched away laughing.

“What happened to your face?” Conch asked with concern, reaching out to grasp her chin and turning it to see it clearly.

She pulled her head away, twirled one of her braids around her finger.

“Just a run in with a donkey and it’s braying friends,” she said, voice making it clear she didn’t want to talk about it.

Conch sighed heavily, but said nothing, knowing she hated when he or Fewl made too big a deal out of these things. Pia forced more energy into her step. Rocking forward in hopping stride that resembled a horse’s canter, Pia bounced step by step.

“Wanna race?” she asked, forcing a wide grin to break the mood.

They had just left the front gate and turned toward the mountain path. It curved sharply up through the trees and got steeper as the path went along.

“All the way up the mountain?” he asked, a look of pained dismay on his face.

Conch was fit, but he was a lazy dreamer by nature. Running was strictly “as needed” exercise for him. Pia took two more canter-like leaps and waggled her brows, knowing she had him.

“On three?”

He looked away, as if debating, then grinned, matching her bouncy stride. The two friends shared a silly grin, lost in their own world.

“One,” he called out.

With an impish grin, Pia yelled, “Three!”

“Cheater!” he yelled as she took off like a bolt.

The two laughed all the way up the mountain.