Quiet's Rider- a Fourth Wing fanfic

Chapter 4

This morning, we're all in rider black, and there's a single silver four- pointed star on my collarbone, the mark of a first year, and a Fourth Wing patch on my shoulder. We were issued standard uniforms yesterday, summer-weight tight-fitted tunics, pants, and accessories after Parapet was over, but not flight leathers. There's no point handing out the thicker, more protective combat uniforms when half of us won't be around come Threshing in October. The stronger leathers Xaden got me aren't standard for first years, but I fit right in among the hundreds of modified uniforms around me, even if they aren't the better third year leather. And the armoured corset and wrist guards from Larni with dragon scales will help protect me during the challenges.

After the last twenty-four hours and one night in the first-floor barracks, I'm starting to realize that this quadrant is a strange mix of we-might-die- tomorrow hedonism and brutal efficiency in the name of the same reason.

"Jace Sutherland." Captain Fitzgibbons continues to read, and the scribes next to him shift their weight. "Dougal Luperco."

There are a hundred and fifty-six of us on the first floor of the dormitory building, our beds positioned in four neat rows in the open space. Even though Jack Barlowe was put in the third-floor dorms, I'm not about to let any of them see me weak. Not until I know who I can trust. Private rooms are like flight leathers—you don't get one until you survive Threshing. Well, unless you have a third year brother with access to the uniforms.

"Simone Casteneda." Captain Fitzgibbons closes the scroll. "We commend their souls to Malek." The god of death.

I blink in acknowledgement, but my expression remains blank. No attachments, no emotions, no pain.

There's no formal conclusion to the formation, no last moment of silence. The names on the scroll leave the dais with the scribes, and the quiet is broken as the squad leaders all turn and begin to address their squads.

"Hopefully you all ate breakfast, because you're not going to get another chance before lunch," Aetos says.

"He's good at pretending he doesn't know you," Rhiannon whispers at my side.

"He is," Sorrengail replies just as softly. Not as good as Xaden and I, seeing as no one even suspects, let alone spreads rumours, about us. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, but I keep my expression as bland as possible as I assess our surroundings.

"Second and third years, I'm assuming you know where to go," Aetos continues as the scribes wind their way around the edge of the courtyard to my right, headed back to their quadrant. There's a mutter of agreement from the senior cadets ahead of us. As first-years, we're in the back two rows of the little square that makes up Second Squad.

"First years, at least one of you should have memorized your academic schedule when it was handed out yesterday." Our squad leader's voice booms over us.

"Stick together. I expect you all to be alive when we meet this afternoon in the sparring gym."

We only have the gym twice a week, which is annoying because it means everyone will be grumpier and more aggressive without that time to let loose. At least we have some time to train before we get to handle the Gauntlet—the vertical obstacle course they told us we'll have to master when the leaves turn colours in two months.

If we can complete the final Gauntlet, we'll walk through the natural box canyon above it that leads to the flight field for Presentation, where this year's dragons willing to bond will get their first look at the remaining cadets. Two days after that, Threshing will occur in the valley beneath the citadel.

I glance around at my new squad mates and can't help but wonder which of us, if any, will make it to that flight field, let alone that valley. Probably not all of us. Violet looks like she's going to struggle with the challenges, since she's so small and weak. I shouldn't judge, since I'm shorter than her, but I'm also much faster and more agile, and have much more muscle on my bones.