“You’re supposed to take the natural logarithm,” Ember said, looking over Naz’s perplexing columns of calculations. “How did you get x equals five thousand?”
Naz groaned, clutching her head dramatically. “Show me again.”
Ember bent over the table with a slight smile on her face. It seemed a rare occurrence that she knew something her friends did not. The three were studying on campus—although studying was a strong word for Carn—on a wooden bench in the central plaza. It was a warm, breezy day that made the leaves rustle, welcome weather after Ember’s disturbing night.
Carn sucked on his straw noisily from his position draped over the top of the bench. “Be quiet,” Ember chided. “You’ll distract Naz again.”
“So, Em,” he teased, “there are dark circles under your eyes. Did you not sleep well?”
Ember sighed. “Not really. I had an unusual dream. Apparently, I was tripping on toad toxin.”
Naz looked at her strangely. “What?”
“I’d rather not relive it. We really need to get back to-”
“Are you going to the match next week?” Carn interrupted.
Ember put down her pencil, half exasperated and half amused. “No, I think I’m going to sit the next few out. It’s a little gory for my taste.”
“Fair enough,” he replied, sitting up and swinging his legs back and forth like a child. “Naz would probably feel that way if she hadn’t grown up here.”
Ember took the bait, hoping she wasn’t dredging up a dark topic. “I know Naz moved here when she was young, but what about you?”
“I didn’t know my parents even on the mainland,” he said in his usual cheery tone. “I grew up in an orphanage in Bayport until I was twelve. Hell, I was happy when they took me away.”
Ember fixed her eyes on his, homework forgotten. “Have you ever wondered about them? You know, who they really were?”
Carn frowned. “I try not to worry about it. I know they’re not in Mendel—my caretaker checked when I was first brought in—so there’s no real way of knowing if they were Linnaean or not without Bayport’s records.”
Records… maybe they could tell me something about my mother. But Vargas is a week away by horseback. “What happened after you came here?”
“The city put me up in one of the community halls and let me attend the middle division on scholarship. Then, since I did well in school, I was accepted into the university.”
Ember nodded, unsurprised—although Carn wasn’t the studious type, he had a natural affinity for learning.
“Is Bayport like they say?” Naz asked dreamily. “I heard it’s on the coast.”
“It’s cold, it smells like fish, and I think the sea swallows more sailors than it lets out alive.”
“Still, I wish we could go,” Naz replied. “Maybe one day, when the treaty is more secure.”
“Maybe,” Carn shrugged, “but I’m glad we have Mendel until then.”
***
“I can’t believe it’s time for our first round of exams already,” Naz griped, holding her books close to her chest as if they could provide some comfort. “One month into school is far too soon.”
You have no idea, Ember wanted to say. I’ve only just found out I’m Linnaean, and they’re already grilling me on the facts and figures. Her eyes were heavy from the long nights spent studying for her core classes, and her stomach rumbled every few minutes to remind her of the meals she’d skipped. “At least most of them are over,” she pointed out.
“That might not be such a good thing for me,” Naz countered. “I think chemistry kicked my ass… the stoichiometry is just not clicking.”
Ember nodded sympathetically, her mind jumping back and forth between the conversation and her next exam: Hickory’s practical. “How’s Carn coping? Have you talked to him recently?”
Naz frowned. “Actually, no. He’s been distant ever since he moved into the mammalia dorm… the last time I saw him is when we were all together last week.”
“I figured he was just studying,” Ember said, giving Naz the side eye, and they both broke into laughter.
“Okay, you’re right, there’s no need to worry. I’m sure he’ll come around when exams are over.”
Ember agreed as they came to a crossroads in the path, where they waved goodbye and wished each other good luck. Right away, without Naz around to distract her, anxiety about the exam formed a knot in her chest. “Webcaps, skullcaps, dapperlings,” she recited under her breath. In typical fashion, Hickory hadn’t told them what the practical would be on, but poisonous mushrooms had appeared in several of his lectures.
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A small crowd of nervous students had already gathered in front of Hickory’s tree-classroom by the time Ember arrived. Many of them had come absurdly over-prepared, bearing full-body protective suits, stacks of books on plant identification, and bucketfuls of digging supplies.
“He really gave us no hints,” Morgan said, appearing behind Ember in chemist’s goggles and gloves. Stifling a chuckle, Ember greeted her, and the two quizzed each other on Hickory’s lessons to pass the time.
The professor arrived ten minutes before the official start of the exam, holding nothing but a clipboard and a notepad. “Now now, students,” he bellowed, “judging by your punctuality, you must be very eager to take my exam!” The class laughed nervously. “Worry not-” croak “-I will not keep you waiting any longer. Today, we will be going to the Saline Lake. You may leave any aids inside the classroom, where I assure you they will be safely awaiting your return.”
Reluctantly, the students pulled off their special suits and set down their supplies. After waiting for the last stragglers to join them, Hickory raised two fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply. To Ember’s surprise, a herd of elk materialized between the trees, silent and stunning like forest spirits. Their brown and white coats glittered in the sun, and over half of the herd sported antlers as wide as a human’s wingspan.
There was an audible intake of breath as the herd separated. Each elk found its place next to a student, seemingly knowing with whom they would be most compatible. Ember’s elk was a young female, smaller than most members of the herd but still at least four and a half feet tall at the shoulder. She swung her heavy head, regarding Ember with soft brown eyes. “Hello,” Ember whispered.
The largest buck sauntered up to Hickory, resting his chin atop his head and letting out of low huff. Unlike the others, the buck was fitted with a harness that supported a one-person cart. “All right, class, “ Hickory croaked, “you may now ask for permission to mount your elk. As you can see, I will be valiantly leading the way from this carriage, but I feel very confident in your abilities to ride behind me.”
There was a pause as the class processed his instructions. Then, instinctively, Ember and half of the group sought out Chaz the gorilla, whose massive physique had become somewhat of a running joke. He glanced at his elk (the second largest) apprehensively, eliciting an equally apprehensive look from the animal.
The class broke out into belly-shaking laughter. With the tense mood dissipated, the students that had traveled by elk before began to mount their animals, some jumping straight into position and others using tree roots to boost themselves. Ember watched a few examples, noting the successful attempts and the ones that ended in body-bruising failure. Having grown up in the country, she wasn’t a complete stranger to riding, but her grandfather’s working horses had rarely tolerated her attempts to mount.
“All right,” she turned to her elk, “let’s do this. May I ride you?”
There was no response, which Ember took as a good sign. She positioned herself parallel to the elk, using a mound of soil to elevate herself. Then, she placed her hands on the dense hair around the animal’s neck, keeping an eye on her blunt teeth. She took a step and sprang upward slightly, propelling one leg over the elk’s back and heaving herself into a prone position. The elk adjusted to her weight, and Ember managed to sit up behind her shoulders, using her mane as an anchor. She tightened her core and squeezed the animal’s body with her legs, remembering to lean forward and keep her back straight.
It took a few minutes and a half-dozen crashes for the whole class to mount, but eventually, even Chaz sat perched atop his elk. “Now that you are all settled,” Hickory announced, “we will begin our journey to the Saline Lake. Your elk know to follow me and Gambit, so there’s no need to give them commands.” He climbed into his cart, and the lead elk—evidently named Gambit—took off at a trot, following the path that led to the far reaches of campus. The others followed, some nearly displacing their inexperienced riders.
Despite the fact that the elk’s back was uncomfortable and her long hairs poked Ember’s skin, the two quickly fell into a rhythm as they traveled. Ember began to relax, looking around appreciatively. Like nature itself, Mendel and its residents were in a constant state of change, and there was something novel to see each time she left her dorm room. Although the leaves had not yet started to change colors, the forest was already preparing for fall, with many of its animals beginning to grow an extra layer of fur or entering a rut for the breeding season. Flocks of birds returned from their northern migrations, rodents hoarded food for the winter, and clusters of multi-colored beetles aggregated in patches of light. The excitement was infectious, and even the Linnaeans seemed to find themselves outside more often.
In the end, the ride was moderate and undemanding, coming in at three-quarters of an hour. The sun was directly overhead when they came to a stop at a mid-sized outbuilding. Ember and her classmates dismounted—some more gracefully than others—and waited for Hickory’s next direction. He climbed out of the cart, stretched his long legs, and disconnected Gambit’s harness.
“Thank your mounts,” he instructed. Ember turned to her elk, stroking her neck and praising her in a way that she hoped conveyed her gratefulness. The animal considered her one last time before joining the other members of her herd as they separated from the students.
As quickly as they had come, the elk melted back through the trees. Ember found herself waving goodbye along with her peers and hoping that the herd would return to escort them back. She had felt a connection with her mount, something she would have thought impossible just a month before; never on the mainland had animals been deemed worthy of respect or capable of communication.
“Well then,” the professor called the class’s attention, “I see that you have all made it in one piece. As you know-” croak “-we have spent our first month learning about gathering data in the inaccessible areas of campus. The Saline Lake is one such area, covering twenty acres and reaching a maximum depth of fifty-five feet. It is also a very vulnerable environment, as it must be maintained at a salinity level of thirty-five parts per million to accommodate our saltwater species. This makes it a hotspot for research, maintenance, and healthcare workers.
“Today, you will partner with one other person to survey the lake conditions at various depths: five, ten, and twenty feet. You may check out any level one or level two gear in the storage building, including wetsuits, masks, rafts, fins, and surface-supplied air equipment. You will not be graded on how far you can dive or what equipment you use. Instead, you’ll earn marks for your ability to safely navigate the lake conditions, your resourcefulness, and the quality of your data. No one will be penalized for their mutations or lack thereof. And before you ask, pisces will not have the advantage on the next two exams.
“If you have any questions or concerns, I will be stationed at the eastern lookout tower and my teaching assistants will be on rafts. No matter your species, do not dive or drift into deep water, indicated by the red buoys. Good luck to all of you, and stay safe.”