The bear laughed, a low, rumbling sound that filled the cave and made the bones rattle. “You’re the viper, hmm? The frog said you were sharp,” he growled, lifting his paw from her stomach.
Ember took a few gasping breaths, struggling to make herself heard through the mask. “Of course, you and Hickory were in cahoots. I really thought you were going to kill me.”
“Not today,” he shrugged, a surprisingly human gesture in the bear’s frame. She had to focus to understand his words, which sounded garbled coming from his drooping maw.
“The sleeping gas didn’t work, then,” she said, finding humor in her own words.
He chuckled again. “It was a good buzz, but it would take a lot more to take me out.”
Ember sat up, able to look at him more closely now that her life wasn’t at risk. He was absolutely mountainous, at least twice the size of the bears that had robbed her family’s farm. His body was covered in coarse brown fur, save for a few old wounds that had scabbed over. Though he was much her senior, Ember could see traces of Olga—the young bear with whom she had traveled to Mendel—in him.
“Who are you?” Ember ventured. “It’s true that I haven’t been here long, but I’ve never met such a developed Linnaean.”
“My name is Igor,” he said, the power in his voice palpable. “My family and I are Mendel’s last defense.”
“Your family?”
“For us, the gene runs strong. We are five in total.”
“So the professor wanted us to meet you,” Ember realized. “I truly thought he was sending us into the dens of wild bears.”
“Make no mistake,” Igor said, “there are natural-born bears here. They like our company. But they are sleeping, now, and nothing can awake them.”
Ember took a moment to think. “Mendel’s last defense? Who stationed you here?”
“My descendants and I are our own rulers, but we take our hibernation here as a favor to Corax.”
What has the headmaster done to earn the respect of such a lineage? Ember questioned, once again taken aback by his foresight. “Forgive me for my impudence, but is that really necessary? Is it possible for humans to take the city?”
The bear looked away. “That… I know not. The politics of the outside world are a mystery to me. The crow might be overly cautious, but he is a lot smarter than I.”
“Thank you,” Ember said, pulling herself to her feet with the help of the cave wall. She bowed earnestly. “I will take my leave now.”
“Good luck,” Igor said, returning to his corner and huffing as his massive frame sunk back to the cave floor. Ember stumbled back to the exit, shaken but intrigued. She tugged hard on the rope, letting Morgan know that she was ready to come up, and as the rope went taut, she once again began the perilous climb.
***
Ember slept fitfully the night before the first semester rankings were announced. To stave off the cold, Elliot had turned on the building’s wood-burning furnace, but the heat came only in waves, each time shortly diffusing away. Ember repeatedly awoke in a panic, intermittently sweaty and shivering, her mind second-guessing the finals’ most difficult questions.
She awoke for the last time when the sun was rising over the horizon, her eyelids heavy as she blinked away sleep. She yawned, flinching as something pricked her bottom lip.
Her eyes widened. She threw herself out of bed, almost slipping in her haste to reach the mirror. She opened her mouth, wide, turning until she found the right angle. Sure enough, the tip of a razor-sharp fang had poked through the soft flesh left by the missing canine.
Though she had expected it, Ember found herself in a state of shock as she stared at the new tooth. A heavy feeling settled over her as she stepped back to look at her reflection. It seemed that each day, she could feel another piece of her humanity slip through her fingers.
Now, to the trained eye, she no longer would be mistaken as fully human. Her face had an intense, almost hard countenance, accentuated by the pair of membrane-covered heat pits between her cheekbones and nose. Her pupils were no longer perfectly round but had begun to elongate vertically, forming the slit characteristic of reptile species. Smatterings of golden, slightly inflamed scales could be found on most parts of her body, and her training had stripped away all of the excess fat she had brought from Ciradyl, replacing her scholar’s physique with lean muscle.
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She sighed, considering her side profile. Would my father recognize me?
Unable to bear the discomfort, she turned away from the mirror. Instead, remembering Bloomberry’s command, she got dressed quickly in order to visit the infirmary. She had over five hours until the results would be announced, ample time for them to begin the process of capping her fangs.
She left the reptile hall without pausing for breakfast. Though she still craved meat, she had found that she no longer felt the sharp pull of hunger just from missing a single meal.
The walk to the infirmary was quiet and peaceful. The cold had deepened with the onset of December, covering the patches of lichen and clover with ice each morning. Many of the forest animals had retreated to their dens for the winter, and the migratory birds had begun their journeys to the wild south.
It was an altogether different atmosphere from Ciradyl, where the overworked machines would have choked the air with black smog and all but the laborers would have retreated indoors. Still, she longed for the days when she would prepare a small fire for her father when he returned from work, and they would warm their hands over ceramic mugs of bitter tea.
She shook away the memories as she arrived at the campus infirmary, a multi-purpose healthcare center contained within a two-story log cabin. She pulled off a glove and opened the door, breathing a sigh of relief as warm air rushed over her body.
The small waiting room was occupied only by the receptionist and one other Linnaean, an older student with an elongated bill and webbed feet. Ember stopped at the desk, talking in low tones so as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.
“I’m Ember Whitlock,” she said. “Professor Bloomberry told me to come when my first fang broke through.”
The receptionist nodded, causing her stubby antenna to bounce. Like Professor Tinsely, she was a surprisingly attractive insect, with a blue-plated exoskeleton that reflected rainbow-colored light. “We were expecting you,” she said. “You can head back now, it won’t take long. It’s the first room on the left.”
Ember thanked her and skirted the desk, finding the room quickly. The small, cot-like bed inside brought back memories of her brief stay after the clash with the margay over two months before. She opted instead to wait on the small stool, occupying herself by looking at the hand-drawn posters on the walls.
A Linnaean in a white coat opened the door after about ten minutes had passed. Ember thought he looked vaguely familiar, though her previous stay had been too hectic to tell for certain. He was of moderate height, with circular ears and an elongated snout. As the end of his pink tail swished across the floor, Ember realized that his source species was undeniably the rat.
“Ember, yes?” He greeted her warmly. “I’ve seen your name before—are you a freshman?”
She nodded. “So is my daughter. Don’t tell anyone, but I may have taken the liberty of checking the boards before they were displayed. I think you’ll be very pleased when the rankings come out today.”
Ember smiled as she realized what he was hinting at, unable to contain her excitement. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Now, you’re here to have a fang capped. Let’s see, shall we?”
At his bequest, Ember opened her mouth, letting him peer inside. “Sure enough,” he said, snapping on a glove to examine the area. “For today, I’ll give you some painkillers and take your measurements for the cap.”
“You can’t put it on now?” Ember asked, slightly worried. “What if I inject myself with venom?”
The doctor laughed slightly. “Bloomberry, my dear chicken, has been known to be a little paranoid. Your venom glands are unlikely to form for some time, and even so, you will develop a natural resistance.”
He leaned over, scribbling a diagram of a snake’s mouth on a scrap of parchment. He pointed at the fang, drawing an arrow to the roof of the mouth. “Fully-developed fangs are retractable,” he explained. “They can snap out to inject venom, but most of the time, they’re safely tucked away. The caps are a precaution, not a necessity.”
Ember found herself relaxing at his words. “When will they be uncapped?”
“In the wild, snakes shed their fangs about every two months. We’ll cap each set until you feel comfortable, and then we’ll remove them temporarily to test your venom proficiency,” he said, beginning to take the measurements with a line of twine. “There’s no telling precisely how your venom glands and compressor muscles will develop, but it’s been observed that natural-born vipers can control the dosage in each individual fang.”
Ember startled at his words. That would change everything… if I could administer a non-lethal dose, I would be able to use my venom in the matches.
“How are you feeling about all of this?” the doctor asked, withdrawing the twine from her mouth.
“It’s still sinking in,” Ember answered honestly, “and I’m afraid of any situation in which I’d need to use this ability.”
Something dark passed over the rat’s cheery expression, but he masked it quickly. “Just in case, it might benefit you to find a mentor, preferably another venomous snake. Anyway, though, we’ll have the first cap ready in about three days. Is your other canine loose?”
Ember pushed at it, finding that it gave slightly. “A little.”
“Try to extract it by our next meeting, then, to save us some time,” he instructed. He stood up, dismissing her. “That’s all. And congratulations again, Ember.”