Frostbite

Chapter Twenty-Two

Eira's body ached all over. Training had been particularly strenuous that afternoon and had drained almost every scrap of her energy.

Madam Fairburn had pushed them far during class, bringing in several experienced upperclassmen, and turning it into a battle simulation.

It had been their first real fight training; they'd now got past learning the fundamentals of their powers and how to wield them, along some simple hand to hand combat.

Eira's arms were dusted with angry purple bruises from the numerous jabs and uppercuts that her more skilled sparring partners had unleashed on her. They'd all worn clothing that protected against the worst of the Frost, but it did do much for hands and feet.

The Tutors only would step in if things got rough. Though, in their terms, rough was if someone got knocked out cold.

It was brutal, she thought.

Even though Eira had been training for a little over a year, she still wasn't close to being a passable fighter—let alone a good one. Her kicks were unsteady, her punches bore no strength, and her blocks never actually deflected anything.

Damn it, she thought as she looked at the bandage that wound around her right forearm, covering a scrape she'd acquired that morning. At this rate I'll always be weak.

After a few moments, Eira steeled herself and headed down to dinner. She had to eat, if only to help quell the hunger that gnawed at her insides. It wasn't like she particularly wanted to, but she wasn't foolish enough to starve herself. Not with how feeble she already felt.

After collecting as much food from the buffet as she could stomach, she went over to the table where her friends usually sat. Hopefully they would bemoan training along with her. Edan had suffered just as badly as she had in class.

As Eira approached, she noticed only one of her friends was present—an anomaly. Usually she was the last to arrive.

"Edan, where's Gwen?"

Edan's eyes widened a little, but he appeared to try and keep his composure. Eira didn't understand how such a simple question could cause him such obvious discomfort. A sinking feeling clawed at her stomach, and she began to realise something was very, very wrong.

"Eira," he said gently. She hated that tone of voice. Wished he would just be blunt about it, instead of trying to soften the blow. "Gwen—she's been... gone for two months now. Can't you... can't you remember?"

Time slid to a halt, and for however many seconds, all she could hear were the frantic beats of her own heart.

Everything came back in a sickening deluge, tearing open all her wounds and making her raw once again.

Yes, Edan spoke the truth.

It had happened exactly two months, one week, and three days ago. Gwen was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. She repeated the word inside her head until it sounded like something else entirely.

How could Eira have forgotten?

She could remember that day in horrible, vivid detail once again. However, for a moment—or maybe even a day—she'd let it slip away to some dark place in the back of her mind.