The cleared forest where the boys who called themselves Roosters lived filled with sounds and scents of clean up duty after a large morning breakfast. The youngest orphans saw to the eating area of scattered bowls and half-consumed meals. On the other side stood a large assortment of wooden cabins fashioned from lumber provided by the forest. Adjacent to them lay a courtyard of wooden poles, barrels, ropes, and staves arranged into a training yard.

  Within the yard sat a large trench of filthy water where barrels floated before a row of rings leading toward another water trench with slanted boards for launching off of. These led to a tall wall with unknown challenges behind it. Marcy scanned the training yard's layout as she approached alongside Rutger and one of his fellow trainers named Falix, an aged warrior whose grey hair and broad shoulders spoke of battles past.

  "Falix helped build these in his youth, decades before the notion of an Orphan army slithered through our minds" Rutger said. "He was the first to complete the course. Now all warriors who train must embrace the challenge."

  Looking toward them, Marcy raised a brow, the hardened brown growth swirling down her cheek catching the light. "You want me to play with your toys?"

  Falix smiled warmly. "Yes, they are most fun toys indeed."

  "What's beyond the tall wall?" She asked.

  Keeping his smirk, he stepped forward. "Climb it and see!" Falix said.

  With a light breath, she removed her cumbersome robe that protected her scarred face behind its hooded shadow. The coat hit the ground with a heavy thump as Marcy stepped forward. She scanned every aspect of the obstacles before her, then knelt to dip her fingers in the cold water. Looking toward the barrel floating before her, she rose and took three small steps backward, removing her shoes.

  Marcy leaped barefoot into the air, and with the gentlest touch her feet could muster, Marcy’s skin found purchase within the small grooves of the wooden barrel. It rotated in the water as her weight pressed forward, momentum building to propel her across. The muddy mess embraced her foot as she tried to balance herself—Sloppily propelling her body towards the dry ground beyond the barrel. Marcy crashed forward onto her knee, half her leg drenched in muck.

  Her ears caught Falix's quiet chuckle. Choosing not to look back, she pulled her leg from the water and stood. Wooden rings hung before her, clinging to tightly woven forest fibers. She climbed two strong wooden steps that raised her above ground, revealing a thick mud pit beneath the rings. Gripping the nearest one, she felt well-worn wood under her callous hands as her body weight pulled downward, mud only centimeters from her feet.

  Marcy bent her knees and stretched forward, grasping ring after ring, the burn settling deep in her tested muscles. A thought passed through her mind, when had she last properly honed her body? She grasped the final ring, her attention returned to the humid forest pulling sweat from her flesh. A sharp sting embraced her right eye, forcing it closed as she leaped forward onto solid ground, quickly alleviating the discomfort.

  "That was quick," the blind Rutger said.

  "Sometimes I wonder if you really are blind, old man." She smirked.

  Rutger laughed. "I never forget a sound. I know Roosters' feet hitting ground before the rings. Your feminine feet aren't much different."

  "I'm not that feminine," she replied.

  Before her lay the second trench of muddy water with loose, tilted boards in a row, six total, each reaching slightly further across. With tired arms, she felt pleased at the thought of leg work. Taking a step back, Marcy immediately lost balance as forgotten mud welcomed her foot, sinking it deep and bringing her to one knee again.

  "That's it," Falix said with pleasure in his voice. "Not enough room for a jumping start."

  "Don't tease," Rutger said.

  Ignoring their muttering, she lifted herself, feeling mud's weight clinging to her flesh, large chunks falling and splashing dust from the loose soil beneath her feet. The imbalanced weight on her legs added an unnecessary handicap, but she forgot the mud and welcomed recklessness. Her mind flashed, that same recklessness that had coaxed her into becoming an assassin. Once a proud position, now it only brought regret and shame to her already undignified practice. Wiping mud from her face, she tried to sink those thoughts, but felt the panicked yearnings of a broken creature within, desperate to feed on the dark emotions permeating her heart.

  Sensing something, Rutger brushed his cheek, his blind eyes squinting.

  "Well?" Falix taunted.

  She turned, annoyance tangling with guilt.

  "We usually time the boys," Falix added.

  Clenching her teeth, she heard faint whispers of joyful cries echoing within, that starved darkness pressing her to lash out. "How do you do it?" she yelled back.

  Rutger's brow furrowed. "Don't say anything," he ordered Falix. Turning toward her, he stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Don't think about doing it. Clear your mind. Focus on what's outside you."

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  Releasing a breath, she looked at each slanted platform and let that thought drift away. Keeping her mind clear, she allowed primal instincts to dictate her path. Leaping forward, she felt the board's hard thump beneath her as she pressed against it, legs bent, chest curled forward, she shot herself off with hands extended toward the next platform. Like a cat, she pounced from one to another in a graceful demonstration. Landing on solid ground, she used her final plunge's momentum to run the small distance to the vertical wall. Lifting her left foot, she pressed what strength her tested body could muster upon it and kicked upward, propelling herself just enough for her outstretched arm’s to clear the wall's top, callused fingers grasping its dusty roof.

  Releasing a loud grunt; she heaved her mud caked foot upward, she looked at what she couldn't see before. The entire training gym spread before her. The immediate obstacle: large poles meeting the wall's height, each five feet apart and scattered with no clear path. She knew this was about balance and danger, the treacherous fall below could easily send her crashing into the many tall poles. Beyond them, a single rope attached to an elongated tree branch thick enough to walk on. But the poles were so slim only a single foot could rest on them, and far enough apart to require leaping between them.

  Upon closer inspection, her eyes widened. Among them were poles with flat surfaces and others with sharp points that could puncture a foot.

  "You make kids do this?" she called down.

  "Only those who are worthy," Rutger replied. "Are you worthy?"

  His question lingered in the air. "Yeah," she replied. "Maybe..."

  "Then we'll meet you at the tree's base." The two old men began walking across the gym.

  Looking forward, she carefully studied the many poles rising high off the ground, training her eyes against growing vertigo.

  Across the courtyard, panting boys ran in two-by-two formation, each weighted down by heavy dull blades in one hand and heavier wooden shields in the other. Leading the tired pack was the ever-vigilant Fernando, his heartbeat matching his steel feet's pace as he conquered the path he had traveled a thousand times before. A light breeze brought cold relief to the boys' sweat-drenched bodies, a gift from the surrounding wild that caressed Fernando's in dreamlike meditation encompassing mind and body; muscle fibers dwelling on the ordered path.

  From the corner of his eye, a foreign sight demanded attention. The newcomer stood before the Poles. The brothers in disciplined stride all witnessed Fernando's head cock. Like an unheard command, they sequentially followed his motion, all eyes locking on her as Fernando's feet slowed to a standstill.

  "What's this?" asked a tall boy with thick hair beside Fernando.

  "She's a warrior… or at least I think so," Fernando said. "I believe they want her to train us."

  "What can she have to offer?" The thick haired boy asked.

  Fernando responded with a nod, a silent command for the rest of he boys to follow.

  "Look at this!" The thick haired boy called, his voice carrying beyond the gym and drawing surrounding Roosters and trainees. Locking eye’s with marcy, his smile grew wider. "Think you got what it takes? Every one of us did it. Show us how easy it is!"

  Chuckles escaped the crowd while Fernando remained stone-like, examining the woman. "He's right. We all did it." His words carried like a taunt. "You're strong, I want to see what you can do."

  Heads poked from surrounding green as even more boys gathered to watch the spectacle.

  "They're letting her attempt the poles already?" someone asked.

  The three Toms gathered near the start of the gauntlet. "She made it that far, I couldn't do that... yet," the oldest Tom confessed.

  "Feels different up there, doesn't it?" one of the aged voices teased.

  The crowd laughed as Marcy looked away. She could feel it, though just another obstacle among many she'd faced, like this strange forest, it carried a daunting aura. Something that coaxed her fears and embedded new ones. That measly cry of the guilt beast within beckoned retreat; she had nothing to prove to these adolescent savages. The familiar comfort embedded in years of practice and bloodshed felt like shadow enough to escape within. Yet something else challenged her heart.

  Marcy exhaled and shifted her weight forward, thrusting off her leg into the air. Instinct guided her positioning. Stretching her leg, she felt the natural placement of propelled force set her atop her chosen mark. Boys gasped near-silent as she stood on a single foot, perfectly balanced on the first pole. Three options lay before her: the pole directly ahead with its sharp point, and the two adjacent poles with safe flat tops. Internal adrenaline and discipline demanded the closest steps toward swiftest victory. One pole, possibly eight to ten feet beyond, sat on the other side of the sharpened pole.

  With perfect balance, she removed the soft tunic shielding her bare flesh from the forest environment. With only fresh bandages covering her most private parts, the boys erupted in mixed laughter and awe.

  "What's the matter?" a confused young soul asked.

  "Cover your eyes!" another laughed.

  "Look at that balance though," added yet orphan.

  With tunic in hand, she wrapped her right palm in the cloth for protection. The boys whooped and hollered as she bent her remaining leg against the pole and exploded upward. From the instant her foot left the wood she began the rotation, body tucking and flipping forward so that her padded palm smashed down onto the sharp spike. For one impossible heartbeat she held her entire weight on that single hand gripping the deadly point, all went quiet.

  "Impossible," a voice broke the silence, followed by eruptions of glee and awe.

  Bending her arm downward, with a powerful thrust she launched herself forward. With strong momentum, she landed on the chosen pole and immediately threw herself again, spinning through air and expertly traversing her plotted course. Each pole remained perfectly still, not a creak or shake. Her performance earned her the far off rope's grasp, accessible only by leaping with a large, welcoming moat beneath.

  With rope fibers held between her fingers, she wondered how any of these children could cross such demanding obstacles. As the thought loomed, Marcy released a breath. She forced herself upward, blood escaping the stinging right palm that held her. Placing that bloodied palm atop thick, rough bark, she hauled herself upward and rested her panting body against the elder tree's body sized branches like a hardened bed. Jagged edges indented Marcy’s sweat-covered flesh, small stings pressing against her cheek as she exhaled loudly.

  Her ear pressed against bark, the odd sensation of a light vibration creeping through wood, with a unfamiliar groaning escaping the ancient tree. Lifting her head, Marcy gazed into thick canopy, taking in the true form of what she lay upon. This single branch escaped a vast vessel that crept into darkened thicket like a snake protruding from a cave, its coil slithering into widened branches extruding many smaller ones, each covered in thick green foliage that bounced light in welcoming arrays, all attached to superior branches vast enough for walking. Standing to her feet, Marcy felt a strange call somewhere hidden among it’s darkened canopy...