𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑻 . Tobias Eaton

*ೃ༄ 14 ༄ೃ*

Al tries again. He misses.

"That was pathetic." Eric says.

I look over to see what was happening but remained in my place.

"It slipped." Al returns.

"Well, go get it!" Eric scoffs.

"What, while they're throwing?" He asks.

"Are you afraid?" Eric stands closer to him, intimidating him.

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife? Yeah."

Honesty is his mistake. Not his refusal, which Eric might have accepted.

"Everyone stop!" Eric shouts.

The knives stop, and so does all conversation. I hold my small dagger tightly.

"Clear out of the ring." Eric looks at Al. "All except you."

I drop the dagger and it hits the dusty floor with a thud. I follow the other initiates to the edge of the room, and they inch in front of me.

"Stand in front of the target," says Eric.

Al's big hands shake. He walks back to the target.

"Hey, Four." Eric looks over his shoulder. "Give me a hand here, huh?"

Four scratches one of his eyebrows with a knife point and approaches Eric. He has dark circles under his eyes and a tense set to his mouth—he's as tired as we are.

"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives," Eric says to Al, "until you learn not to flinch."

"And if I see you flinch...You're out. One thing that you will learn here is that orders...Are not optional."

Four's grip on the knives tightens and his knuckles turn white as he turns to face Al.

I look from Al's wide, dark eyes to his shaking hands to the determined set of Four's jaw. Anger bubbles in my chest, and bursts from my mouth: "Stop it."

Four turns the knife in his hand, his fingers moving painstakingly over the metal edge. He gives me such a hard look that I feel like he's turning me to stone.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," I say. "It doesn't prove anything."

"Then it should be easy for you," Eric says. "If you're willing to take his place."

I weave through the crowd of initiates, and someone shoves my shoulder.

"There goes your pretty face," hisses Peter. "Oh, wait. You don't have one."

I grin back at Peter's comment as I confidently walk towards Al. He nods at me. I turn and stand in front of the board. I look at Four's knives: one in his right hand, two in his left hand.

I tip my chin up. I will not flinch.

"Same rules apply." Eric speaks

I nod.

Four's eyes are still on mine when he lifts his hand, pulls his elbow back, and throws the knife. It is just a flash in the air, and then I hear a thud. The knife is buried in the board, half a foot away from my hip.

"Oh, come on Four?" sighs Eric.

I continue to stare at Eric, Four passes a knife from his left hand to his right hand, and I see nothing but his eyes as the second knife hits the target above my head. This one is closer than the last one—I feel it next to my shoulder.

"You can get closer than that," he says.

"You want me to give her a little trim?" Four asks him.

"Yeah, maybe just a little off the top." Eric replies, his hands behind him.