“Are you going to the match next Saturday?” Carn asked, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd.
“What match?”
He looked at Ember incredulously. “The division one sparring tournament! The season starts next week.”
“It’s the most popular sport in Mendel,” Naz added. “Everyone goes, and the champions join the Apex Association and earn the title of master. It’s very elite.”
Ember shrugged. “I guess I’ll go.” She settled against the back of the seat, letting the two talk over her. It was growing louder as more Linaeans poured into the already packed hippodrome, forming a crowd of at least six hundred strong. The stadium was the only area in the city that had been cleared of all but the tallest trees, leaving a field with a temporary stage in the center. Its stone walls were marred with scorches and gouges, evidence of some unknown battle or natural disaster.
The orientation had attracted the largest assortment of students that Ember had ever seen. Unlike the older Linnaeans, the freshmen exhibited all of the awkward in-between stages of development: two pairs of ears; bandaged scalps with horns beginning to break through; one foot and one hoof, or malformed wings.
As she listened, Ember caught the word ‘bloodlust’ more than once, as if the barely-healed cuts on Carn’s arms weren’t enough of a reminder. If the rumors were to be believed, the wolf-man had been a student and was expelled before the semester even started. Still, remembering his inhuman eyes, Ember doubted that he could have ever been human.
Before she could speculate further, a group of Linnaeans took the stage with Professor Corax at its head. He called for quiet, his gravelly voice naturally amplified by the walls of the drome, and spread his feathered arms. “Welcome, freshmen, to the University of Mendel. Being accepted to university is no easy feat even for non-Linnaeans, yet all of you have managed it. You have my congratulations.” He paused, clasping his hands in front of him. “I hope that each and every one of you will find a home here. You have been called pests and beasts; you have been beaten and shunned. Why? Because the others fear us. And maybe they should.”
The students shouted with approval, and Corax had to wait a full minute for them to calm again. “That said, I must implore you to respect our treaty with the non-Linnaeans. Do not wander past Mendel’s borders unless you have been given permission by myself or the city’s administration. For the time being, our domain stops at the edge of the forest. This is for your safety.”
Ember glanced around, wondering if anyone had family outside of Mendel, but none of the students seemed to object to the headmaster’s guidelines. “This year, like in years past,” he continued, “I am pleased to accept you all on scholarship. I simply ask that you donate your time and effort to the university, and meet the minimum requirements to remain in the program. This will not prove to be easy, but I have faith in your perseverance.
“The upper division has many amenities and resources to be used at your convenience: dining halls, tutoring, two infirmaries, athletic teams, and various student-run clubs. You may also find yourself seeking recreation at the Lion’s Tail River, the Saline Lake, the aviary, the conservatory, the subterranea, or here at the hippodrome. I simply ask that you remain alert, especially at night, because Mendel is not as tame as the cities of the north.”
Ember shifted in her seat as she took note of the second warning. How many accidents happen each year for the headmaster to take such caution?
“That said,” Corax resumed, “I know you will all succeed in your next four years here. Many of you will go on to enroll in our graduate school or even join my research team. I also suspect that the coming years will be our most innovative yet.”
Smiling, he called up some of the other Linnaeans on the platform, who spoke of matters of security and gave testaments to the university’s merits. Ember paid only partial attention, instead focusing on what wasn’t being addressed: the looming threat of the outside world and the death by mutation that she had been led to believe was all too common.
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She tuned back in as the professor took center stage again. “Before I release you,” he said, “I must bring up an incident that transpired yesterday. One of our students, a grey wolf, went into bloodlust and severely injured his victim. Luckily, she will survive, but she has been irreparably traumatized.”
The crowd was quiet enough for the sound of cicadas to be heard in the background. “How and why did this happen? I ask myself the same thing. We have spent years refining our medications so that bloodlust is extremely rare among our population. But, still, each year students are tempted to reduce their prescribed dose or forego it entirely. Why? Because they hope to grow thicker fur, improve their eyesight, or otherwise speed up the onset of their mutations.”
He shook his head. “Please, resist the urge to modify your treatment in any way. You might grow stronger faster, but you might also undo years of progress and maim or kill the ones closest to you. Even if you believe that you have no natural predators or prey, resist! This I beg of you.”
Ember glanced at Carn, shocked. “Is that true?” she whispered. “Do students really go off the treatment?”
“All the time. It’s more common than you would imagine,” he said grimly. “It’s especially common in the mammalia and aves dorms.”
Ember grimaced, hoping that she wasn’t a minnow, mouse, or some other common prey animal. She had hardly accepted that she was Linnaean, and now she had to worry about one of her peers hunting her.
If I do have a predator, I hope I never meet them.
***
“Welcome to Introductory Campus Management,” the professor said, his throat ballooning outwards. “I’m Doctor Hickory, an environmental analytics specialist and part of Corax’s post-graduate research team. I–” croak “–look forward to working with each and every one of you unique individuals.”
Ember fidgeted slightly, almost sliding off of the tree root that served as a bench for her row. The student next to her stifled a snicker. The way the professor was standing, with his hands on his stout hips and his stomach pooched outwards, made him resemble a perfect circle. Combined with the whimsical setting of the tree hollow, he looked like a character out of a children’s book.
Hickory turned a large, knowing eye on the classroom, and the students stiffened. “You’re laughing now–” croak “–but you won’t be laughing during the final!”
A student raised a tentative hand. “What will the final be on?”
“Getting ahead of ourselves, are we? Well, like all exams in this class, the final will be a practical examination. Actually, let’s have everyone stand up.”
Papers rustled as the students murmured among themselves. “What are you waiting for?” Hickory guffawed. “Come on! Leave your bags behind.”
The class hurried off of their perches, filing out of the hollow with the professor in the lead. Ember hung at the back, exchanging a bemused look with a girl next to her. “I thought syllabus week was supposed to be an introduction. Where’s he taking us?”
“I have no idea. I heard he was quite the character, but I didn’t expect this. At least it explains why the class takes up three blocks. What’s your name?”
“Ember. You?”
“Morgan,” she replied, shaking Ember’s hand. They exchanged a few more words as the class crossed to the far side of campus, stopping when a tributary of the Lion’s Tail River cut across their path.
“Well?” Hickory said, looking at them expectantly. “Go ahead and cross.”
The students looked at each other uneasily. The stretch of river was particularly wide and wild, with white froth spraying off of its rocks. “Is there a bridge further up?” a young man asked.
The professor shrugged. “At the university, we interact with our campus in many ways. What would you do if you were a habitat researcher, hoping to see some rare phenomenon? Or a maintenance specialist, tasked with fixing some imbalance when time is of the essence?”
“I’ll go,” a woman said. She was petite and wide-eyed, with fine grey fur and two tiny ears. With a determined look on her face, she gripped one of the trees and began to climb, taking small but quick steps. When she had reached a height of about twenty-five feet, she looked back over the river, seeming to contemplate something.
Then, suddenly, she flung herself from the tree. A flap of skin connected to each of her wrists and ankles opened up with a snap, and she glided haphazardly across the waterway. She fell short at the last moment but managed to grab hold of a tree branch, allowing her to heft herself onto the river bank. She turned back toward the shore, soaking wet but looking proud of herself. The other students cheered in admiration.
“Good work!” Professor Hickory shouted. “Who’s next?”