20. Setting Out
A mere five days later, they were eating breakfast. They were all silent, getting themselves mentally prepared for the ten kilometre run Maximus had promised them, out in the freezing cold of late November. Charlie's spirits both soared and plummeted at the same time when a little black shape flew up to their table, landing in an ungainly fashion in Peter's bowl, splashing him with cereal. Feriador's message might have come, but it also presented the possibility of missing the dreaded run. Peter picked it up by the foot, not immediately realising what it was, and eyeing it with confusion and distaste. Clearly, the black thing did not like this arrangement, and began objecting fiercely with loud screeches. It beat its wings and bared small but sharp fangs.
Peter finally realised what it was, and with a screech of his own, he dropped it hastily. The bat shook itself dry. Black, beady eyes stared at Peter with intense dislike, if that was possible for a bat. Charlie picked up a piece of paper it had dropped in the food bowl. It dripped with milk, and as he unrolled it, he saw the writing was severely smudged and almost illegible, but he could make out some words, and guess others.
Meet on training field at 1 o'clock.
Professor Feriador
Charlie put the paper on the table and the others read, or rather guessed, the message. .
“I'm completely not prepared for this.” Emma murmured.
“Neither. But look on the bright side, we miss Caspir's lesson.” Peter reached across the table for more cereal to fill his now almost empty bowl. He inadvertently brushed the dishevelled little bat aside. It had obviously just had too much of Peter. It bit him hard, drawing blood. He yelped, managing to knock his drink over in his pain and surprise. Blue Languana spilled over the table.
Hissing at Peter, the bat departed, leaving Charlie, Phoenix, Emma and Jason in stitches.
“I'm bleeding!” Peter was sucking his finger. “That bat is evil.”
“Y'know, we should get going.” said Jason. “We may be setting off after lunch, but Maximus won't go any easier on us. We still have to run ten kilometres.”
Groans met his words, as Feriador's message had momentarily pushed the ten kilometre run from their minds. Feeling immediately lethargic, they stood and made their way to Port Five.
An icy blast hit them as they clambered out of the mining cart and jogged across the training field to where the rest of the class was already waiting.
Maximus glared at them but said nothing as they reached the group. Once they were stood still, he began to explain the route, around the field four times, then a snaking path through the forest that zig-zagged from side to side, then finally back to the centre of the field.
The class began the run sluggishly, Except for Terry Nixon who sprinted off, merely a blur, lapping them all several times.
“These runs wouldn't be so bad if Terry couldn't sprint ahead and be very smug, waiting for us to finish.” grumbled Peter, rubbing his arms, which were covered in goose bumps. Terry's power gave him the ability to run extremely fast, and he usually finished in a quarter of the time of the next fastest person. Maximus loved him for it, but most of the class hated him for it. It made them all look lazy and slow. Peter was usually the second fastest person, so this ticked him off particularly. It was common for him to complain after runs, and he always claimed that Terry cheated, and he should run at normal speed.
