Amy had been observing Fee's progress in training, and it was not a pretty sight. Time and time again, the instructor would chastise her daughter for being too slow on the rope climb or the assault course.

  All haste no speed. She thought. Pick it up.

  A little cough came from somewhere behind, bringing her back into the room. Waiting at the desk with hands folded behind her, was a woman in her mid-thirties, standing screw-tight and rigid.

  “Ma’am?” The Captain said quietly.

  Amy glanced down at the report in her hand. It did not improve her mood.

  “Bernice Michaelsson, your assessment reads like a therapy session for a nervous breakdown. Over-emotional, constantly crying, incapable of making decisions without…wait for it…yelling at her superiors. You’ve had quite the tantrum these past few years. Tell me, would you like to yell at me? Tell me how I do my job? Feel free, seeing how everyone seems to give you a pass, no matter how insubordinate you are.”

  “With respect Ma’am, I have requests from five different Chiefs and Admirals…”

  “Ever heard of the term ‘busy work’, Captain? It’s a way to get people out of the building and in your case…off the planet.”

  “Commander Alic Randome himself…”

  “Randome is a placeholder, nothing more. People bus him in when the actual talent is unavailable. I wouldn’t pin my hopes on dropping his name; his legacy is beige at best. Now, if you ask me…”

  “Ma’am, if I may?”

  Amy turned around, eyes blazing. “Did you just interrupt me?”

  “Ma’am, please!” Michaelsson said, on the verge of another meltdown.

  “Shut up, Shut your damn mouth; I am not some flunky you can scream at. You need to stow that hubris and bury that attitude, because if I hear another peep about you. I will take your fuckin' dog, turn it into fuckin' lasagne and the only way you will fuckin' know will be the fuckin' Polaroid at the bottom of the FUCKIN' DISH. Now PISS OFF!” Michaelsson saluted quickly, turned and promptly tripped on her feet. Amy rolled her eyes. “Stunning. Absolutely amazing.”

  She didn’t bother to watch the Captain exit smartly, and turned back to the monitor. Fee had fallen the fifteenth again, earning another rebuke from the rosy-faced Instructor. Frustrated, she staggered to her feet.

  Watch your footing, girl. Amy thought. Plant yourself like a tree. You've known this since you were young.

  With a succession of dodges, Fee scored a few hits, but was swept onto her back again. The Instructor sent her on a two-lap circuit as punishment. Amy felt a deepening sadness. All that training had come to nothing. Maybe Fee was holding back for fear of setting off the collar? Even if that was the case, then this level of self-abuse was an extreme price to pay for sand-bagging.

  Four years to get good. Was it too much to ask? Throw her in a Tiger pit and ask her to fight her way out, of course she would fail. This should have been Plan B; you can't bet the farm on one girl. She's right, she's not our saviour. Amy stared out the port window, sipping a glass of tea. Pic, get your ass back here and clean up your mess, I can't do this alone. Amy sighed and shook her head. No, no, that's weakness talking. I brought her in on this; she's my responsibility, everything she does falls to me. Damnit it Amy, don't pussy out now.

  Fee ended the run drenched in sweat; her chest heaved in large gulps of breath. To her left, she caught sight of a couple of Batons and started to twirl them around. After a few seconds, muscle memory kicked in and she was locked into a shadow-dance with the poise of a veteran fighter. Amy's mood brightened.

  “Alright, let’s go easy on these people.”

  ***

  "I said go easy, Pic." Amy had said eight years prior. "But don't feel you need to be gentle all the time."

  "Why are we doing this in the rain?" Fee asked, with an impatient flap of the arms. "I thought we were supposed to be having fun?"

  "Fun can wait," Pickford said. "Learn to fight on unfamiliar ground, because bullies will come at you when you least expect it."

  On a cold day in June, ten-year-old Fee Green reckoned there were better things she could have been doing on vacation that didn’t involve an ice hockey mask.

  "Can you go one at a time?" Fee asked. "Please?"

  "Will your attackers be so merciful?" Pickford said, bumping the gloves together. "You must be ready for anything."

  "But I won't be wearing all this stupid stuff."

  "That’s for when we misjudge our hits," Amy said. "Now, practice fending off a sneak from behind." She tapped the top of the mask with her glove. Fee swung her fist back around, but her Mother danced out of reach. "Never give in to taunts; they want to see you mad for their amusement. Remember, all rage is energy."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "If I fight, I will get into trouble."

  "That's because the School is always on the side of the bullies," Amy said. "They punish the victim because it is easier in the long run.”

  "So I can't win?"

  "Unfortunately, the system is rigged, built on a culture of fear."

  "Illuminating as that was, it doesn't help Fee with defence," Pickford said.

  "What if I get in trouble?" Fee asked.

  "Your father and I will deal with the cowards when the time comes; you just protect yourself."

  "Clear your mind," Pickford said. “Everything will fall into place. Begin!"

  Fee closed her eyes, taking herself out of the moment.

  Pic started with limp, flailing jabs to mimic a child's idea of attack. She countered with a couple of hits to his side and caught him on the chin. He was surprised how much it stung, but he shook it off.

  "Nicely done. Don't stop."

  Fee paused, unsure. "You could be hurt."

  "Do not hesitate for one second or..."

  Amy suddenly grabbed Fee from behind. She stamped on her Mothers’ foot and elbowed her in the ribs, while stale air escaped her lungs.

  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Fee said, her voice ringed with panic.

  Amy was breathless for a few seconds.

  "I'm fine.” She said. “That was a test. You have to be careful not to fall into their trap." She shared a fleeting expression of concern with her husband. He could only nod and say nothing. "You're getting better. Remember, only fight to defend yourself, and stop when they are down. What do we say? On the floor...?"

  "Fight no more."

  Pickford clapped his gloves. “Let’s go again!”

  For the next hour, the three trained until the bout ended with Pic falling to the ground, laughing all the way. Fee sank to her knees and fell against her father, who gave her a nurturing hug.

  "Next week, we will teach you how to defend yourself with two sticks."

  "Can't I use a bow and arrow?"

  "That's for people who don't know how to fight," Amy said. She looked up at the clouds, now drained of light against the golden canopy of trees. "It's getting dark, we should go."

  Back at the Minivan, Fee was in the rear seat listening to music through thick, padded headphones, while her parents packed the gear into the trunk.

  "I miss the old car," Pickford said, slamming the door. "So many memories."

  Amy looked away.

  "Memories, yes, but not the kind we want our little pumpkin sitting on, " she said. Do you really want to explain that to her therapist?"

  "I'm amazed we managed to fit in the first place."

  "It doesn't matter. You are not getting that crap-wagon out of lock-up."

  "It's an heirloom, Ames. How can you let it go to waste?"

  "They are for heirs," Amy said. "The clues in the title." Her husband gave his chin a rub. "Still hurts?"

  "How's yours?"

  Amy instinctively rubbed her side.

  "Last time I felt a blow like that, I was in the ring."

  "For real?" He said and looked into the rear window. "So she is getting stronger."

  Amy lowered her voice. "That was supposed to happen during adolescence. I'm worried she’ll end up killing a bully. I mean, they’re trash, but I wouldn't wish death on them."

  "She can't hear you, and that's not going to happen. Look, we've just spent hours telling her how to defend herself, so what do we do? Tell her to forget it?"

  "What is the alternative? Risk blood on her hands or stand there and take a beating?"

  "Neither of those is going to happen," Pickford said. "Not while I draw breath." He looked up, exasperated. "It's probably a fluke, she got some lucky hits in that's all, and we are just over-reacting." His wife rubbed her earlobe, unconvinced. "C'mon Amy, she's ten for chrissakes."

  "She took the wind out of me, Pic. Not even you could do that."

  "So the V?lur was right, a prophecy will come true."

  "Pfft! Prophecies are for novels that come with maps." Amy said. "Anyway, I don't trust that weirdo, or her band of zealots."

  "Those zealots are my relatives."

  "Then take them Golfing, just keep them away from our kid."

  Pickford looked up at the sky and sighed.

  "Agreed."

  "Let's go before our little Cherub thinks we're arguing," Amy said

  "We kinda are, aren't we?"

  "Please. Like you could ever win one."

  Fee frowned as the two adults slid into the front.

  "Where were you?" She said. "Are you fighting?"

  "No, dear," Amy said, turning to face her daughter. "We were just discussing where to go for dinner."

  "Happy Eater!" Fee yelled gleefully, with both fists in the air. The two adults gave each other a weary look.

  "Sure, Champ." Pickford said, while Amy hid a smile. "Whatever you want."

  ***

  Back in the present, the taciturn Instructor was impressed with Fee's shadow-fighting and called her over for a session with a new sparring partner named Alexis Fender, an older girl with white dreadlocks. Amy looked on, her interest piqued. During the practice fight, Fee was like a new person. Every attack was met with a dodge, counter and flurry. No longer burdened with a padded Bo staff, her movements were pure instinct, executed with pinpoint accuracy and able to strike with the fluidity of a veteran. Eventually, she managed to down her opponent, who crumpled into a heap of flailing limbs. Fee offered a hand, but the girl slapped it away.

  “I thought they called you the ‘Lex-ecutioner,’ ” Fee said. “I guess the Lex said the best.”

  The girl shook her head, getting to her feet.

  “Haha, good one." She said. "I am putting you down on the list.”

  "List?" Fee asked. The girl just smiled.

  "Outstanding, Green." The Instructor said, with a hint of satisfaction. He blew his whistle and called another person over. "Let's see how you do with one versus two."

  Fee had a haunted look in her eyes.

  "Two?" She said. "At the same time?"

  Amy smiled.

  May God have mercy on their souls.