When we got close enough to see the others gathered around Myrda in a messy half circle, Winnie lifted her log and waved it like she was calling a charge. She added an extra flourish at the end, spinning it in a full circle above her head before balancing it on one palm like it was a feather. The log was taller than she was and caked in swamp grime, but Winnie treated it like a cherished relic she had unearthed from a sacred dwarven ruin. Some of the kids actually cheered when they saw her brandish it, because apparently nothing unites children faster than the sight of a weapon they are absolutely not allowed to use or the fact that it was a really cool stick.

  Meka stayed right beside me, tail low and twitching, but at least she was walking instead of shaking. Every few steps she looked at me the way someone checks a lantern to make sure it is still lit. I did my best to look like a lantern. Considering how the day had started, just keeping her upright counted as significant progress.

  The moment Myrda spotted us; she pinched the bridge of her nose in a way that made me wonder if she always did that or if we had simply overwhelmed her on our very first real day together. I had no idea if this was normal for her; I had only met her yesterday, but the gesture looked like something an adult did when they were suddenly responsible for too many small disasters. Probably because she had just discovered what kind of chaos we brought with us. A dozen trainees stopped what they were doing when they noticed us. Two kids froze mid spar. One boy dropped his practice spear on his foot. Two girls whispered loudly enough that everyone heard them. One of the older kids muttered, “What did they do,” like we were returning legends from a war we had no business surviving. The entire group started acting like we had returned from the front lines of a war instead of the swamp.

  Myrda’s shoulders sank as we reached her. Her eyes jumped from my mud covered face, to Meka’s snot filled nose and tear streaked cheeks, to Winnie’s log, to the trail of chaos behind us. Meka was not muddy at all; she was a crying minotaur girl with her fur damp from happy tears and her nose running like a river. I could practically hear the internal "Why me." She finally said, “What happened.”

  Greta answered for me. “Myrda. I need your help for a minute. Stay with the kids while I go talk to Randall.”

  Myrda’s jaw tightened. “Do I want to know what he did.”

  “No,” Greta said. “But I am going to fix it.”

  The class murmured at that. Half the kids leaned in as if they could hear Randall getting scolded from across the field. Greta rarely used that tone unless someone was about to learn a life lesson. A few whispered bets started immediately. One girl said she bet Greta would make Randall cry. A boy countered that Randall did not have enough spine to cry; he would just fold like a wet towel.

  Meka shrank behind me. Hard to do when she was three times my size, but she managed it with surprising commitment. I nudged her arm gently. “You are fine,” I whispered. She seemed to believe me enough not to hide her entire face.

  Winnie patted Meka’s elbow reassuringly. “Do not worry. If Randall comes near you again, I will bash him in the ankles.” She lifted her log like she was selecting which angle would cause maximum devastation.

  Three kids behind us gasped. One whispered, “Do it.”

  Myrda closed her eyes. “Please do not bash anyone.”

  “No promises,” Winnie said cheerfully. She hugged her log like it was a beloved pet she fully intended to take care of for all of her days.

  Greta rested her hand on my head for a heartbeat, a small quiet good job that still made warmth bloom in my chest, then strode toward the edge of the training grounds where Randall was stationed. And by stationed, I mean sitting on a stump pretending, he was supervising something important. When he noticed Greta coming, he hurried to straighten his posture, which meant he had already lost.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Half the class crept a few steps forward to get a better view. Myrda snapped her fingers to herd them back. They obeyed, but barely. A cluster of younger kids lifted up on their toes trying to peer around taller students. Someone tried to climb onto a friend’s shoulders before Myrda glared them down.

  From where we stood, we could not hear everything, but Randall’s panicked voice carried well enough for most of the class to enjoy.

  “Greta,” he said loudly, “I was just about to check on my trainees progress. Its been a very busy day as you probably know. First quest and all.”

  A chorus of children groaned in disbelief. Greta’s reply was too quiet for us to hear, but Randall’s nervous laugh was not.

  The girl beside me muttered, “He is in trouble.”

  Winnie nodded sagely. “Very deep trouble.”

  Meka fidgeted. “Is this my fault.”

  “No,” I said. “Randall chose to be Randall.”

  That made her smile a little. A few kids around us nodded like this was wisdom they intended to remember forever.

  Then we heard Randall say, “Keep it?” loud enough that several kids jumped.

  Winnie snorted. “He looks like a confused goat when he does that.”

  The class tried not to stare, but every single trainee was watching like we were witnessing some legendary duel. A few younger kids made bets under their breath about whether Randall would pee himself. Someone else whispered, “My brother said Greta once made a full grown man apologize to a tree.”

  After another few moments, Randall raised his voice again. “The actual Copper tournament. That Copper tournament.”

  Winnie gasped. “I think she got Meka in the Copper magic tournament. Runt.”

  The negotiation ended with Randall saying “Fine. Fine. She is in the tournament but if she somehow wins, I still get her instructor payout,” in the tone of someone signing away his soul without reading the contract.

  Greta walked back toward us wearing a smile that made several kids whisper excitedly. Randall, behind her, looked dazed. He tripped over a root immediately and fell face-first into the dirt while trying to pretend he was working.

  A wave of laughter rippled through the class. Myrda tried to suppress it, but even she cracked a smile.

  Greta stopped in front of us. “It is done,” she said.

  Meka’s shoulders loosened, like someone had removed a backpack full of stones. Winnie lifted her log triumphantly and struck a pose. Half the class cheered and the other half started asking questions all at once.

  “What did she do.”

  “Did Randall get fired.”

  “Is Meka in our class now.”

  “Is she strong.”

  “Will Winnie hit Randall with her log.”

  Winnie answered the last one. “Only if he deserves it. And I think he might.”

  The class erupted into delighted whispers.

  Myrda tried her best to regain control. “Everyone settle down. Give them space.”

  They did not settle down, but they pretended to. One kid loudly asked who Meka even was, since none of them had seen her before today. Another wondered why Greta had brought back a new girl who was crying happily and she had been trying to hid behind me. Winnie immediately announced that Meka was going to be amazing because she had would be taught by the greatest wizard of all time Runt and also because Winnie said so. Myrda did not look convinced.

  The rest of the martial trainees gathered closer, forming a loose ring around us the way kids do when they are trying to look casual but are actually dying to know everything. They kept sneaking confused glances at Meka, clearly trying to figure out where she had come from and why Greta was now treating her like one of ours. Meka stayed close to me, Winnie stood guard with her log, and Greta remained a calm anchor beside us. With her there, it felt like nothing in the world could get past her. It felt like the first moment in days where everything was exactly where it should be.

  Kids kept whispering around us. Some asked Meka her name. Some asked if she was joining the class officially. The orcish boy asked me if she fought monsters in the swamp. Another asked if she was strong because of her horns. No one had any idea she could use magic, and I was not planning to tell them.

  My classmates were loud, messy, nosy, and excited. But they closed ranks around us without being told. They acted like Meka could be one of us, even if they were not sure what she could do yet. One girl offered her a spare waterskin. Another told her that if anyone bothered her again, she should tell them because “we handle our own.”

  And for the first time since I met her, I saw Meka stand a little taller. Her tail even lifted an inch, which for Meka was basically a victory dance.