Spitfire - Eric Coulter

Chapter VIII

I wake up completely around 5 am. I like being up earlier, that way I can get ready in peace and can train a little beforehand. I once again leave my hair open tumbling down past my shoulders, when I remember Peter grabbing them. I decide that I will cut them soon. Once I get the courage to let it go because I really do like my hair.

In the big hall, I pick a croissant, an apple and some quark with jam. I sit at the end of one of the tables, sipping on my hot chocolate when the hairs in my neck rise up and a person walks behind me and then sits down across from me.

"Eric. Good Morning."

He nods in response and we eat our breakfast in silence.

"Up for an early training again?", the blond leader asks.

"Hmhm", I mumble.

"Good", he says and gets up again. I put away my plates and walk to the training room, stretch as much as possible, do cardio and use the punching bag.

My brother enters when I repeat kicks, they get better and stronger already and my knuckles are red and the skin starts to rub off.

"Twist your hip a bit more", he says.

"Good morning to you as well", I huff but do as he says.

"How are your bandages?"

"I'll need to change them around lunch or so. What are we doing today?"

"Handguns. You'll get issued your own once you pass, which is why you'll learn maintenance as well."

"Cool."

"We still have half an hour, do you want to spar? Later you'll fight against Dauntless born as well", my brother offers.

"Okay."

My brother stands on the mat, facing me, correcting my defensive stance and the way I hold up my arms. And then he punches me, a quick combination that I am barely able to block and he leaves no opening at all. I try my luck nonetheless, going for his ribs and changing it into an uppercut at the last second, which he blocks and returns with a kick to my side that sends me stumbling. I regain my posture and duck away from his fist, trying to hit his slightly exposed side. He stops that too. I growl in frustration and attempt a hit to his face, pretending to step left but then stepping right, bringing my leg up for a kick, and twisting my hip out. He catches my ankle and twists it, sending me flying to the ground. I groan but focus as he approaches. I kick my leg up effectively in the shin. I scramble to get up, placing one of my feet between his legs and hitting him into the hollow of his knee with the other. He stumbles and I lunge, but he flips us mid-fall and I am underneath him. The air knocked out of my lungs.

"Now what?", my brother asks.

I roll my eyes, buck my hips, try to wiggle out from underneath him, but nothing works.

"Okay, you need to buck your hips up hard enough that I fall towards you, bracing myself", he explains and I do as he says.

"Now pin my arms in place, your one foot by mine, that way your leg is angled and with the other you push off, rolling over."

And it works. I grin. "Now secure your partner's arms with your knees, one it hurts like a bitch, two its hard to get free. Be wary of the legs though."

I laugh. "My brother uses bad words now."

He rolls his eyes and flips us. "Again."

I repeat that move so many times that I lose count when my brother flips us over once again, he freezes and looks up, locking eyes with someone behind me.