Class Reptilia

Jisu stood across from her partner, tightening her hand wraps meticulously. Her expression was sharp and centered, and her long, whip-like tail swished slowly behind her. She was lean, and her muscles were easily visible outside of her sleeveless shirt and boxing shorts. A pair of sizable canines hung over her lower lip.

Her partner, a Linnaean male in his twenties, was in a similar stage of development. A pair of long antennae sprouted from his skull, and inch-long orange spines lined his calves. He had short, nonfunctional wings, and plates of exoskeleton protected his extremities. His left leg bounced nervously as he waited for Jisu to finish her preparations.

“I’m ready,” she said, assuming a boxing stance. 

Mr. Badger nodded. “You may begin.” 

Jisu stalked forward with her ears flattened against her head. Her opponent shrank back, hesitating. “Don’t wait for her to attack!” the instructor shouted. The insect gave a small nod, darting forward to strike Jisu’s head with a series of punches. He was quick, but Jisu reacted easily, ducking beneath his strikes and circling him. She spun on one foot, her other arcing through the air in a perfect crescent to connect with the side of his face. 

He let out a yelp, springing backward to put distance between them. He could jump surprisingly high, but the ability did little when only used in retreat. 

Jisu pounced forward, pressuring him, and they exchanged a series of quick, superficial blows. He jumped again, attempting a kick with his powerful legs, but Jisu rolled beneath it, popping up behind him. Her technique was more advanced than the rest of the class: she used her catlike strength and agility to compliment the strikes they’d learned, beginning to develop the style unique to Linnaean fighters. 

Ember drew closer, completely engrossed. If only he would use his jumping height offensively…!

For a split second, an opening appeared in the insect’s defenses. Without hesitation, Jisu extended her claws, slashing his body diagonally. He stumbled back, shocked, as his torn shirt fluttered between them. It was a clear, but terrifying message. She has incredible control. An inch more, and she would have disemboweled him. 

Ember’s eyes flitted between the two opponents, painting a clear picture. Though Jisu had yet to injure the insect, he had been incapacitated. His thin chest trembled as he breathed, rising and falling with panicked frequency. 

The cat’s focus didn’t waver for a second as she watched him. She stepped forward almost tauntingly slowly, and Ember shivered, reminded of the battle with the margay. When she attacked again, her strikes were unfaltering, and they broke down the insect’s defenses until they were tattered beyond repair.

When she could push her opponent no further, Jisu leaped into the air. She lifted one leg above her head, her emerald eyes aflame, the picture of deadly grace. With the force of an axe chopping wood, her heel smashed down onto the insect’s skull, rendering him unconscious. 

Ember shuddered, both enthralled and horrified. So that’s what talent looks like. 

Mr. Badger quickly stooped to the insect’s level, taking his pulse and examining his head. “He’ll be fine,” he announced, “his exoskeleton prevented a concussion.”

Ember shifted uneasily. Did Jisu know that would happen? Either way, she’s merciless. She caught Mr. Badger’s gaze, tilting her head. How am I supposed to train with her? 

The insect awoke, occupying the instructor’s attention. Mr. Badger handed him a canteen of water, assigning another student to walk with him to the infirmary once he had regained his bearings. Though Ember had grown accustomed to the Linnaean’s cavalier attitude toward injuries, she pitied him as he stood, his head bowed with dejection. It wasn’t your fault, your opponent was just too strong.

Mr. Badger released the class, then spoke briefly with Jisu, who Ember had no doubt had received the top score in the evaluations. When their conversation was finished, Ember brushed past him, swallowing uneasily. “This will be a good challenge for you,” he said under his breath, though she could not tell if the words were meant as a warning or encouragement. 

The cat was kneading her leg muscle as Ember approached. “Hello,” Ember said awkwardly, and Jisu looked up, her face scuffed with dirt from her fight. “I’m not sure if Mr. Badger informed you, but we’ll be partners until the next evaluation.”

Jisu nodded. “You’re the one who defeated the margay. I watched your spar: your technique is decent, but you don’t fight like a Linnaean.”

Ember tilted her head, unsure if she should be offended or curious. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a snake, yes? Snakes are ambush predators; they catch their prey off-guard, and they strike fast. You were trying to conserve your energy in the fight against your partner, right?”

Ember nodded. Indeed, she had been afraid of tiring too quickly, even though Sam’s skills had not posed much of a threat. “That’s the first issue. You’re at a disadvantage the longer a fight drags on. At the first opportunity, put all of your speed and strength into one attack.” She held up a finger. “Force is weakest when it’s dispersed. If you concentrate your energy into a single point, there’s no one at our level who will be able to block it.” 

Ember gaze sharpened. Jisu had applied a scientific theory to fighting, an act that Ember had considered more innate than logical. If she too could use her ability to reason—one of her greatest assets— to improve her technique, she too might be able to accelerate her rate of improvement. 

“I appreciate your perspective,” Ember said, clasping Jisu’s hand to pull her to her feet. “I look forward to training together.”

***

Ember stretched her hands above her head as she exited the lecture hall, letting out a yawn. Professor Tinsely’s lecture on the cardiovascular system had been unusually dull. Though she was still a strong student, with only three weeks until finals, her motivation was beginning to dwindle. The late nights spent training added to the increased difficulty of waking up for her early morning classes. 

As she mentally planned for the rest of her day, she itched at the scales that were growing along the side of her neck. They were hard but flexible, embedded in the first layer of her skin in patches of three or more. She had begun to grow fond of their gold color, as well as the extra protection that they provided during sparring sessions with her new training partner. 

Something stirred within Ember’s chest, taking her focus away from scheduling. She turned her head slightly, looking over her left shoulder. Not even three yards away, a figure was leaning against the tree that she had just passed. His dark feathers and well-developed wings left no doubt as to his identity. 

Roland pushed himself off of the tree, walking leisurely toward her with his arms clasped behind his back. His expression was relaxed, but the tenseness of his shoulders betrayed his unease. Ember’s eyes traced his lean, hard muscles—training with the other rankers had clearly treated him well. 

 “You were waiting for me.”

He shrugged, and his wings flared open slightly. She opened her mouth to comment on the midterm ranks, but something about the hard look on his face made her swallow the words.

“You lied to me,” he said accusatorily. “You’re not a boar, you’re a snake.”

Ember shrugged, unsure where the conversation was going. “I didn’t know that at the time. Besides, I’ve never asked about you.”

“Never mind that,” he snapped, and Ember took a step back. “Tell me your species.”

“I don’t know it,” Ember answered honestly. “Why are you so worked up?”

He gritted his teeth, and a taloned hand darted forward, gripping her bicep hard enough to puncture the skin. “Tell me, goddamn it!”

“What the hell?” Ember yanked her arm back, finding him unyielding. She looked around, sure that someone must be nearby, only to realize that he had ambushed her on a less-traveled segment of the path. 

She raised her eyes to his, preparing to kick him where he wouldn’t recover easily. Instead, the intensity of hatred in his deep orange eyes sent a shockwave through her body. Her infrared channels opened, painting his body red and yellow. His wings unfurled, casting a shadow over both of them. Desperately, she tried to pull away, but her body remained frozen in place. 

Something clicked. Like bloodlust, what she was experiencing was a phenomenon unique to the relationship between predator and prey: petrification, the temporary inability to move when faced with the natural predator of one’s source species. She unleashed a slew of swear words inside her head, managing only to struggle weakly against him. Shit. 

“I knew it,” Roland sneered, leaning closer. “But if I’m your predator, then why do I feel-”

Ember closed her eyes, focusing all of her energy on breaking free from the petrification. Her senses returned all at once, and one hand shot to her side, unsheathing the fang knife and swiping at his torso. His face twisted into a mask of fury, but his eyes flashed with something else: fear. He batted the knife away with a wing, sending it flying across the path. 

Ember darted to the side, striking his head with her leading fist. The blow caught him by surprise, but he managed to deflect most of it so that it only grazed his chin. 

He sidestepped, beating his wings to throw her off balance. He appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her neck in a hold that kept her from moving even an inch. 

His grip tightened, and Ember’s eyes watered. Does he intend to kill me? Like a rabid animal, she bit down on his arm with all of her strength. A metallic taste spread across her tongue, and he grunted, flinging her to the ground.

Her head hit the path first, jarring her entire body. She looked up, dazed by the pain, to see Roland looking at the crescent-shaped bite mark on his arm with a mixture of confusion and anger. So he wasn’t completely in control, Ember realized groggily.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, giving her one last look before walking quickly down the path. 

Ember pulled herself up, rubbing her head. She felt disgustingly lousy, not only because of the pain but also because she had survived only by his mercy. Her jaw felt odd, and when she opened it, a pool of blood and saliva poured onto the soil in front of her—and with it, a pearly-white canine tooth.