Madam Wartorn and her three colleagues led their students down the winding maze of tunnels, explaining the details of their outing. While Spring listened to the monotonous drone, she admired the complex system they traveled.
The way down was counterintuitive and confusing. Several times, the group climbed to descend and approached the heart of the mountain to get closer to the jungle.
The journey lasted some five hours, giving the instructors enough time to explain everything, answer all questions, and then travel for over three hours in oppressive silence, occasionally interrupted by the sounds of the penalized protected working in the distant mines.
Spring summarized Madam Wartorn’s lengthy speech in several succinct sentences. Turn back if you encounter a thick red rope. The trial takes place within the area marked by the rope. Help the “survivors” you find along the way by using the skills I taught you, observers will record your actions and words. Survive the night, and tomorrow your zone will merge with another for a free-for-all battle; the victorious class gets a reward. Using grafts is forbidden, since you’re not used to them yet, but as long as you abide by the non-injury rules, anything goes.
The rewards are four piles of mana crystals, and classes get theirs based on the results of the team competition. Then students pick from their pile based on their personal score.
Spring considered the reward system, and found it all too human, intended to sow discord, rivalry, and jealousy. While abundance of mana was important, Spring faced a more critical issue.
I need blood. I’ve got a week’s left before I empty my pitcher. Then, I have four more weeks before it’s gone from my body, and I revert to being a bloom-folk, ultimately starving. I need to drain four cats or eight rabbits to survive a month.
Spring’s primary goal for the weekend was to gather blood and suitable minerals for her body tempering. She did not doubt she would take first place in play-pretend treatment of sick and injured, nor that her team would win, even if she remained the only “survivor”.
Like everyone else, she carried a backpack with provisions. But instead of a tent or a sleeping bag, which Madam Wartorn had suggested her students should bring for comfort, Spring had packed twenty-three seven-meter-long coils of thin rope, weighing around ten kilograms, which was the most she dared carry without raising suspicion.
The group left the safety of the walls and reached the jungle two hours before noon.
“Alright,” Wartorn shouted, “We will place you in your starting positions, and the test will begin in two hours. If you move before the whistle, we will deduct ten points off your score. So, just wait patiently.”
Soon enough, there were only five minutes left before noon. Spring rested her hand against a red rope thicker than her wrist. The red line stretched into the forest to either side, tied to trees and supported by poles at waist height every couple of meters.
We’re the furthest group south, so I should place my traps along the northern border, once the sun sets. It’s a shame I can only use the traps Darin and his men used for provisions, plus I have to change them into nonlethal versions. I should have enough of an excuse to ask ‘Mother’ for library access after this field trip.
Spring plotted out the best course, given the field’s shape and size. Their playground was a fifteen hundred meter square, and combing through the area meant covering some thirty kilometers.
Wartorn said some wounded are in plain sight, while others are hidden, but she didn’t tell us how many there are, only that they will “perish” at nightfall.
A sharp, metallic whistle split the air, and Spring trotted into the jungle. She kept glancing back; after crossing forty meters, she lost sight of the red line and turned right, going towards the training area’s closer, southern border.
She saw an unremarkable, unnamed female classmate run deeper into the jungle and heard one other, but failed to spot them. After a while, Spring spotted the red rope, and turned around, heading back along the path she had beaten.
She saw the rope again and followed it for eighty meters east before running south once more. She estimated she was some three hundred meters away from the rope when she caught a cry for help.
“Help, please, help me,” the deep-voiced man spoke in his regular voice, sounding like he was struggling to get a beer in an overcrowded tavern, yet not exactly shouting. He was a horrible actor, his tone conveying utter boredom, even though the trial had just begun.
He’s ahead of me, to the left, Spring identified the half-hearted plea’s direction, but did not rush over, instead opening her eyes wide. He’s at least two rows away, and based on the murmur I’m hearing, someone’s already providing treatment.
Spring caught indistinct, muffled words from the same general area, guessing her classmates were busy, earning merit. She scanned the surrounding area. If I were making a test like this, I would hide a silent patient close to the loud one.
There! She barely had time to consider the idea before spotting a faint trail left behind by a seasoned forester.
Spring stopped, she looked around, memorizing the location where she had paused her sweep, then followed the tracks until she reached a hollow at the base of a large tree. A woman lay there unmoving, obviously fake red paint on her temple and cheeks.
I must pretend I’m afraid or disgusted. Spring paled, tightening her neck muscles and looking away while breathing rapidly. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists, forcing herself to look back at the “wounded”.
She fetched the package with healing supplies, which instructors had distributed to their students. Spring took a bandage and wrapped the woman’s head.
“Likely a concussion. Do not move unconscious people without help from others, unless their life is in immediate danger,” Spring whispered, opening the patient’s eye.
“My pupils are dilated and unfocused,” the woman whispered, and Spring nodded.
“Complications beyond the scope of the class, immobilize the patient and immediately bring a seasoned healer. Do I need to immobilize you with what I can find lying around, or does this count as a pass?”
“Five points,” said the bush to Spring’s left, and even though she knew an observer was near, she still jumped away from the sudden noise.
“Sorry for scaring you,” a man wearing a complicated suit adorned with living vegetation said, and scribbled something before giving a clipboard with a sheet of paper and a permanent pencil to Spring. “Sign here, please.”
He pointed at a box saying ‘Jasmine Searing five points,’ with two empty lines. Spring signed the first, and the trauma victim signed the other one before removing Spring’s bandage and painting the side of her head red once more.
Spring backtracked to where she had gotten sidetracked and kept jogging, her eyes wide open for any other traces of silent wounded.
“Help, please, help me,” the deep-voiced man repeated his lame act once more before Spring reached the red rope. She went back and forth, and by the time she approached the bored man, she found two others waiting in line to diagnose him.
I guess there’s no way around it. Wartorn told us to wait for our turn at least twenty meters away when another student is providing aid. While primitive, it certainly prevents students from observing each others’ work.
Spring patiently awaited her turn, already numb to the man repeating the same line over and over again.
“Next,” the observer said in a fainter voice than the wounded, and Spring approached them.
“Help, please, help me,” the man said, staring sadly at his prosthetic leg made of wood.
The leg was an advanced contraption with ball bearings for the knee and ankle. However, the joints were twisted facing the wrong way.
This would be a nasty leg wound, his tendons and ligaments would have been torn, but they didn’t teach us about that in class.
“There are no wounds, I need to align the dislocated bones and splint the leg.” Spring glanced beside the rugged, disinterested man, noting the two planks. “I will use these two convenient, straight pieces of wood to keep everything in place.”
Spring handled her patient, healing him the way she was told to do it, not the way she should do it with his best interests at heart. Three minutes later, she signed the paper with her name and ‘five points’, noting six other names, two of whom had scored a negative ten.
Treating an artificial leg like this is much easier than working flesh and bone. Spring watched the lame actor remove the splint and dislodge his prosthetic leg once more while the observer called for the next student to approach.
Madam Wartorn and her three colleagues led their students down the winding maze of tunnels, explaining the details of their outing. While Spring listened to the monotonous drone, she admired the complex system they traveled.
The way down was counterintuitive and confusing. Several times, the group climbed to descend and approached the heart of the mountain to get closer to the jungle.
The journey lasted some five hours, giving the instructors enough time to explain everything, answer all questions, and then travel for over three hours in oppressive silence, occasionally interrupted by the sounds of the penalized protected working in the distant mines.
Spring summarized Madam Wartorn’s lengthy speech in several succinct sentences. Turn back if you encounter a thick red rope. The trial takes place within the area marked by the rope. Help the “survivors” you find along the way by using the skills I taught you, observers will record your actions and words. Survive the night, and tomorrow your zone will merge with another for a free-for-all battle; the victorious class gets a reward. Using grafts is forbidden, since you’re not used to them yet, but as long as you abide by the non-injury rules, anything goes.
The rewards are four piles of mana crystals, and classes get theirs based on the results of the team competition. Then students pick from their pile based on their personal score.
Spring considered the reward system, and found it all too human, intended to sow discord, rivalry, and jealousy. While abundance of mana was important, Spring faced a more critical issue.
I need blood. I’ve got a week’s left before I empty my pitcher. Then, I have four more weeks before it’s gone from my body, and I revert to being a bloom-folk, ultimately starving. I need to drain four cats or eight rabbits to survive a month.
Spring’s primary goal for the weekend was to gather blood and suitable minerals for her body tempering. She did not doubt she would take first place in play-pretend treatment of sick and injured, nor that her team would win, even if she remained the only “survivor”.
Like everyone else, she carried a backpack with provisions. But instead of a tent or a sleeping bag, which Madam Wartorn had suggested her students should bring for comfort, Spring had packed twenty-three seven-meter-long coils of thin rope, weighing around ten kilograms, which was the most she dared carry without raising suspicion.
The group left the safety of the walls and reached the jungle two hours before noon.
“Alright,” Wartorn shouted, “We will place you in your starting positions, and the test will begin in two hours. If you move before the whistle, we will deduct ten points off your score. So, just wait patiently.”
Soon enough, there were only five minutes left before noon. Spring rested her hand against a red rope thicker than her wrist. The red line stretched into the forest to either side, tied to trees and supported by poles at waist height every couple of meters.
We’re the furthest group south, so I should place my traps along the northern border, once the sun sets. It’s a shame I can only use the traps Darin and his men used for provisions, plus I have to change them into nonlethal versions. I should have enough of an excuse to ask ‘Mother’ for library access after this field trip.
Spring plotted out the best course, given the field’s shape and size. Their playground was a fifteen hundred meter square, and combing through the area meant covering some thirty kilometers.
Wartorn said some wounded are in plain sight, while others are hidden, but she didn’t tell us how many there are, only that they will “perish” at nightfall.
A sharp, metallic whistle split the air, and Spring trotted into the jungle. She kept glancing back; after crossing forty meters, she lost sight of the red line and turned right, going towards the training area’s closer, southern border.
She saw an unremarkable, unnamed female classmate run deeper into the jungle and heard one other, but failed to spot them. After a while, Spring spotted the red rope, and turned around, heading back along the path she had beaten.
She saw the rope again and followed it for eighty meters east before running south once more. She estimated she was some three hundred meters away from the rope when she caught a cry for help.
“Help, please, help me,” the deep-voiced man spoke in his regular voice, sounding like he was struggling to get a beer in an overcrowded tavern, yet not exactly shouting. He was a horrible actor, his tone conveying utter boredom, even though the trial had just begun.
He’s ahead of me, to the left, Spring identified the half-hearted plea’s direction, but did not rush over, instead opening her eyes wide. He’s at least two rows away, and based on the murmur I’m hearing, someone’s already providing treatment.
Spring caught indistinct, muffled words from the same general area, guessing her classmates were busy, earning merit. She scanned the surrounding area. If I were making a test like this, I would hide a silent patient close to the loud one.
There! She barely had time to consider the idea before spotting a faint trail left behind by a seasoned forester.
Spring stopped, she looked around, memorizing the location where she had paused her sweep, then followed the tracks until she reached a hollow at the base of a large tree. A woman lay there unmoving, obviously fake red paint on her temple and cheeks.
I must pretend I’m afraid or disgusted. Spring paled, tightening her neck muscles and looking away while breathing rapidly. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists, forcing herself to look back at the “wounded”.
She fetched the package with healing supplies, which instructors had distributed to their students. Spring took a bandage and wrapped the woman’s head.
“Likely a concussion. Do not move unconscious people without help from others, unless their life is in immediate danger,” Spring whispered, opening the patient’s eye.
“My pupils are dilated and unfocused,” the woman whispered, and Spring nodded.
“Complications beyond the scope of the class, immobilize the patient and immediately bring a seasoned healer. Do I need to immobilize you with what I can find lying around, or does this count as a pass?”
“Five points,” said the bush to Spring’s left, and even though she knew an observer was near, she still jumped away from the sudden noise.
“Sorry for scaring you,” a man wearing a complicated suit adorned with living vegetation said, and scribbled something before giving a clipboard with a sheet of paper and a permanent pencil to Spring. “Sign here, please.”
He pointed at a box saying ‘Jasmine Searing five points,’ with two empty lines. Spring signed the first, and the trauma victim signed the other one before removing Spring’s bandage and painting the side of her head red once more.
Spring backtracked to where she had gotten sidetracked and kept jogging, her eyes wide open for any other traces of silent wounded.
“Help, please, help me,” the deep-voiced man repeated his lame act once more before Spring reached the red rope. She went back and forth, and by the time she approached the bored man, she found two others waiting in line to diagnose him.
I guess there’s no way around it. Wartorn told us to wait for our turn at least twenty meters away when another student is providing aid. While primitive, it certainly prevents students from observing each others’ work.
Spring patiently awaited her turn, already numb to the man repeating the same line over and over again.
“Next,” the observer said in a fainter voice than the wounded, and Spring approached them.
“Help, please, help me,” the man said, staring sadly at his prosthetic leg made of wood.
The leg was an advanced contraption with ball bearings for the knee and ankle. However, the joints were twisted facing the wrong way.
This would be a nasty leg wound, his tendons and ligaments would have been torn, but they didn’t teach us about that in class.
“There are no wounds, I need to align the dislocated bones and splint the leg.” Spring glanced beside the rugged, disinterested man, noting the two planks. “I will use these two convenient, straight pieces of wood to keep everything in place.”
Spring handled her patient, healing him the way she was told to do it, not the way she should do it with his best interests at heart. Three minutes later, she signed the paper with her name and ‘five points’, noting six other names, two of whom had scored a negative ten.
Treating an artificial leg like this is much easier than working flesh and bone. Spring watched the lame actor remove the splint and dislodge his prosthetic leg once more while the observer called for the next student to approach.
