“The men of this world are frogs,” Irina declared. Daimona toddled along behind her, carrying a pile of dirty, orange handkerchiefs in her hand. The forest just outside the base was overgrown and rocky. Thick brambles of blackberry bushes grew everywhere, covering the forest floor in thorns and black mush. Irina turned back, pulling a handkerchief from Daimona’s hands to tie around a nearby tree branch.

“They are skin and warts. Leap first, leap higher if bigger frog says so. Swallow fly, shit in pond,” Irina pulled the knot tight, dusting her hands off on her pants. “That is what a man does.”

Daimona’s eyes wandered up to the sky. The evergreen tops of the trees shrouded her from the view, but between the leaves she could see gray clouds gathering on high. “What does that make us, then?” she asked idly. “Hawks?”

Irina grunted, stepping over a decaying log. “Mice.”

Daimona paused. She scrunched up her nose as they trudged deeper. “Mice? Isn’t that like, way, way, way worse than being a frog?”

“That is an opinion,” Irina chuckled. “We are speaking of facts now.”

Irina reached down, prying apart a tangle of blackberry stems to pull a wet handkerchief from the dirt. She held it out to Daimona.

“Okay… Well what makes us mice, then?” Daimona asked, taking the rag and adding it to her pile.

“Many things,” Irina replied. “We are plague and teeth. Blood, fur, bone. We run when we are scared, and bite when we are caught.”

“But mice are weak!”

“Mice are prey,” Irina said. She ducked under a low-hanging branch, looking over her shoulder to watch Daimona do the same. Her eyes glinted like steel in the light of the woods. “That is my point. We are not the predators of this world. Not anymore.”

Something about the way Irina said things amused Daimona. Maybe it was the way her tongue seemed to roll around r’s and skip through t’s. Or maybe it was her strange metaphors. Either way, no one had really spoken to Daimona like an equal before. There was Norok, of course, but his mind had a way of wandering away from her in the middle of conversations. Plus, he was family. It just wasn’t the same.

“I kinda get it,” Daimona finally replied. “But why does it matter what prey we are?”

“Because,” Irina said with a sly smirk, “frogs are worthless.”

As Irina stopped to stretch, Daimona took in the view around them. To her right was a rising cliffside, with rocks and tree roots protruding from the muddy surface. To her left was a steep edge, a massive canyon looming below. The trail ahead of them seemed to clear finally, and as Daimona shot a look behind her, realization began to creep over her mind.

“Hey! You made us go the long way,” Daimona shouted. “Why’d we go through the woods if we coulda taken the trail?”

Irina stepped towards Daimona, gently reaching for the orange handkerchiefs in her hands. She pulled one upwards, raising it in front of Daimona’s face.

“The frogs of Fable think they are smart. They go the hard way and hide their flags there.” Daimona watched in awe as Irina began to pull the handkerchiefs out of her grasp, tying them together in bright knots. She led Daimona to the edge, and as they peered over, Daimona could see hundreds of braided flags strewn down the side.

Irina tossed the line down, sending the handkerchiefs to join the rest.

“How long have you been doing this?” Daimona whispered.

“Too long,” Irina sighed. She turned back, walking down the trail. “And they never realize. They send me on these ridiculous survival tests everyday. Tracking your fellows, they call it. Then they say hide them again. Over and over, it is the same. I find the frogs, and the frogs never find me.”

Her tone was unyielding, but Daimona could hear the loneliness in it too. She leaned into Irina’s shoulder as they walked. “So it’s a secret spot, then.”

“Yes.”

“But you showed me,” Daimona said, raising her eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

“Because now, we will hide them together.”

Daimona’s heart jumped with excitement at that. They continued down the trail, listening to the birds chirping above and chatting idly. Irina pulled her kindjal out of hiding, passing it to Daimona for her to admire.

“My true magic is magnetism,” Irina explained. “My focus is singular, though. I do not care to stretch myself thin.”

Daimona raised the blade high above her, swinging it down through the air in front of her and listening to the satisfying fwip noise it made. “Wow… That’s amazing! And it doesn’t break?”

“Only if I want it to,” Irina chuckled. “What is yours?”

Daimona performed a perfect, diagonal slice. “My what?”

“Your true magic.”

Daimona scowled, handing the kindjal back to Irina. “Sound stuff, I guess. I do voices. Make people listen to me. Stuff like that.”

“You look unhappy,” Irina tilted her head. “Why?”

“Cause it’s not cool!” Daimona huffed. “You can do sword things, Norok can move things in the air, and all I can do is,” she cleared her throat, giving Irina a deadpan stare as she took on Will’s voice, “Sound like someone else.”

Irina shook her head with a chuckle, cleanly sliding her kindjal back into its sheath. “Just because it is not cool as you say does not mean it is bad to have. Sparkboy has great fireballs of magic, but his is useless because he is useless. He cannot control what he does. Can you control yours?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Then you are already far from the worst,” Irina said with a solemn nod. Daimona laughed, her cheeks warm as she turned her attention back to the path at hand.

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A flicker of light caught her eye. She froze instantly, swinging her arm out in front of Irina. “Don’t move.”

Daimona’s eyes followed the movement. It was a line of wire, barely visible just above the trail. Slowly, Daimona leaned down, prying up a pebble from the dirt and flinging it into the wire. As the pebble caught, a sudden crack thundered out from all sides, and Daimona was blinded by a burning white light. Her ears rang violently.

The light subsided, and once Daimona’s eyes adjusted, she could see a figure approaching. Stepping over the wire was a teenage girl, donning the familiar silver and blue uniform. Her skin was a rich sepia color, and her thick black hair was pulled back in three tight bantu knots. Her eyes were a bright violet, brimming with self-satisfaction.

“My bad,” the girl called. “Thought I’d catch something big with that one.”

“Leka,” Irina hissed. Daimona watched as Irina’s hand flicked to her side, but a small bead of yellow-white light shot at her feet startled her backwards. Irina fell, cursing in her mother tongue as the stranger laughed.

She wasn’t holding a gun like Daimona had assumed. Instead, she was pointing, just like Norok did when he used his magic. The stranger turned her attention to Daimona.

“You must be the new girl,” she said, stepping towards Daimona and extending her right hand. Her index finger was still smoking, and Daimona could see a crackle of electricity running up her palm. “I’m Leka Häyhä, Squadron 57.”

Irina grunted, rising to her knees in the dirt, but Leka quickly formed another finger-pistol with her left hand and aimed it at Irina’s forehead. Still locking eyes with Daimona, Leka clicked her tongue. “Stay down, Smirnov. I’ll get to you.”

Hesitantly, Daimona took Leka’s hand. She flinched at the static shock, but tried to keep a straight face. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

Leka smiled, playfully blowing out her fingertips and placing her hands evenly on her hips. “Rumor has it you’re some kind of prodigy scouted by Cowell himself. That true?”

Daimona snorted, giving a somewhat arrogant shrug. “You could say that.”

“Good, good,” Leka approved. “We really needed some new blood around here.”

Her tone was cheery, all sunshine and rainbows as far as Daimona could tell. Despite the sudden and somewhat hostile appearance, Leka didn’t seem like she had any intention of actually killing either of them, and Daimona was sure that even if she did, she could jump her faster than any lightning bolt Leka could throw. But the way Leka was staring at her was unnerving. It was as if those purple eyes were appraising every fiber of Daimona’s body, and were unimpressed by the results.

It made Daimona think that there were things worse than death.

“Why’re you here?” Irina snapped.

“I heard you were out here hiding flags again. Figured you’d wanna shake things up a bit,” Leka replied. She tapped one hand against her hip, and with a clap of bright light, a yellow rod began to form before her. It bent inwards, stringing itself and forming a bow. Leka held it over her shoulder, pivoting on her heel and motioning for them to follow. Before Daimona could say anything, Irina was marching after Leka, muttering something bitter under her breath. The only words Daimona could make out were “thundering traitor” and “never again.”

Leka led them to the field just outside the base, where Irina and Daimona had left hours prior. She came to a stop in front of five large target posts, each heavily studded to the ground and littered with holes. Irina glared silently at Leka.

“I’m sorry, did you have better things to do?” Leka asked mockingly. “I just thought I’d give you some target practice. Since, you know…”

Leka leaned over, grabbing Irina’s shoulder tightly. In a low, lethal voice, she said, “...You missed so much last year.”

“What happened last year?” Daimona interjected.

Irina pulled her kindjal. The blade came apart in her hand, floating in front of her as the pieces shifted and reshaped the weapon into a short dagger. “Mr. Leader thought we were ready,” she said bluntly. “We were not.”

“You should’ve seen it. It was an incredible display of what not to do during combat. Saint dropped his gun, Prodikor flubbed his shots, and Smirnov here? She tripped.”

Will and Kell being failures was predictable, but Daimona couldn’t imagine Irina losing with them. The confidence she walked with alone echoed her sharp precision. It was a disappointing thought, to say the least.

“Your filthy vedma cheated,” Irina spat.

Leka’s carefree demeanor suddenly evaporated. Her hand tightened around the center of her bow. With a hateful look, she replied darkly, “Run your mouth about my captain again, Smirnov, and I’ll send the new girl back with nothing but parts.”

Irina scoffed, turning her nose up at the threat. “Empty promises from a cheap shot… Whatever. Name your rules so I can stop wasting my time.”

“Thirty paces, one shot,” Leka declared. “Closest to bullseye wins.”

“Easy.”

Irina took her position, eyeing the target ahead of her with a steady hand on her dagger. With one swift motion, she sent it flying ahead of her, sinking the blade deep into the target. The throw was mere millimeters off, sinking into the edge of the white circle at the center. She cursed, turning her back to the targets as Leka stepped forward.

Leka held her bow out in front of her, planting both feet firmly. As she drew her right hand back, an arrow began to materialize in the air. It pulsated erratically, buzzing in her hand as she pulled it taut against the string. Before releasing the shot, Leka leaned back. Instead of looking towards the target, she made direct eye contact with Daimona, and winked as she released the shot.

A thunderous boom erupted from her hands as the bolt soared through the air, nailing the target. The sizzling hole left in the target looked to be almost exactly where Irina’s dagger had landed, but the smoke made it hard to tell.

“Daimona,” Irina called. “Go see who’s closer.”

Leka quirked an eyebrow. “What, can’t take the loss?”

“Yours looks further to the right,” Irina huffed. “I am trying to be fair to you.”

As the two began to argue, Daimona trudged forward through the field. Upon standing before the two targets, Daimona could see Leka’s shot was slightly more on center than Irina’s, causing her to pause and consider her options carefully. She really didn’t gain much here. Leka was intriguing with her lightning and her threats, but she had nothing to teach Daimona. Irina did.

Daimona took slow steps back as she plotted her next move. Irina gave her an inquisitive look, visibly concerned.

“So?” Leka said.

Daimona tilted her head, staring blankly at Leka. Methodically, Daimona whispered, “You missed.”

Leka’s mouth dropped, scoffing incredulously. “What? I made that shot, you both saw it!”

“No,” Daimona replied firmly. Her words buzzed with determination, each syllable carrying the weight of her magic. “You missed that shot. And when you tell people about today, you’re going to say ‘I lost to Irina Smirnov.’ In fact, that’s all you’re going to be able to say for the rest of the day. Okay?”

Leka’s body twitched. It was clear in her eyes that she wanted to argue, but all that came out of her mouth was a forced, “I lost to Irina Smirnov.”

Irina’s face brightened immediately. “What was that?”

“I lost to Irina Smirnov!” Leka shouted. Her bow disappeared in a bloom of yellow orbs as she reached for her throat, choking out the words. “I lost to Irina Smirnov?”

“No need to sound so proud of it,” Irina cackled.

Leka shot a deathly glare at Daimona and Irina, clenching both her fists as she turned her back and began angrily walking back to base. While the two watched, Irina gave Daimona a shy look.

“Be honest,” she said quietly. “I was off, wasn’t I?”

Daimona grinned, throwing an arm around Irina’s shoulders. “I didn’t hear Leka say that. Did you?”

Irina smiled back. “I suppose not.”