"No," I snapped, "I'm fine."

Yuki beat her wings once, gaining a few feet of air before hitting the ground again.

"You sure?" Shea observed, walking casually around Yuki and noting my struggle.

I gritted my teeth together. "Positive." I wasn't about to let Shea ruin this, too. My hurt arm was almost better now, but I could feel it beginning to smart, tingles of pain shooting tiny pricks. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled harder. More pain.

The ropes in my hands began to give, slipping through my palms. I bounced back. Clawing for ground, Yuki was still fighting me. Come on, bird thing!

"Here." Two strong hands gripped mine, forcing them over the rope with more intensity. Then, they forced me to give, allowing Yuki a few inches of slack. She blinked, as if confused. I jutted my elbow out, catching someone in the ribs.

"Ouch."

I smiled with small satisfaction. "My bad." Then Yuki reared up, a movement which would have slid me across the grass if it wasn't for Shea, whose hands were still on mine, keeping me firmly rooted in place. As much as my hate for him had grown, I was in no place to refuse help. I moaned as my cut began to open up. Stretching the skin and splitting it, spots of blood began to show.

"Enver! Can't you do this?" I shouted. Before I could ask again, he had moved Shea and switched places, Shea now directly in front of Yuki, guiding her with his hands and gestures.

"All you had to do was ask," Enver breathed.

I found new strength, yanking back with our combined body weight and gaining ground. Once Shea had gotten onto Yuki's back, she realized that we weren't a force to be messed around with. She let Shea steer her into a fringing patch of forest where heavy, enchanted chains held her by one foot. It wasn't cruel, but needed for them not to run away. Until they learned to love their companions (inYuki's case, me) they would be kept in this way.

Shea hopped down from Yuki's feathered back, rubbing his hands together and looking altogether proud of himself in some egotistical way. "I believe you owe me a thank you."

"No, I don't think I do considering I never asked for your help."

Enver placed a hand on my shoulder. "Amee, be reasonable," he pleaded. I shook him off.

"I am being reasonable. I'll never need your help," I spat at Shea.
His expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything more, instead shoving his hands into the front pocket of his riding tunic and striding off.

"That was harsh," Enver told me.
My eyes bugged. He wasn't serious. "Are you kidding?" I slung my arms up in the air. Something cold and wet hit me in the nose. Suddenly surprised, I touched a finger to it and drew away sticky, warm liquid. Blood. Hesitantly, I looked down at my right arm. My Z-shaped, nearly healed wound was re-opened, bleeding profusely.

"Crap," I groaned. Enver sighed and stripped of his hoodie, pressing the green fabric onto my arm.

"He could've prevented this from happening, you know." Enver turned my arm over in his hands, waiting for an answer. "He's a ten in Avianics?"

"A ten?" I was a nine, apparently rare enough in the Farlost community. I still got fish-eyed stares and wide, open mouths when I walked down the hallway. Since I couldn't help it, I'd learned to position myself behind Elspeth, Marcena, Berkley, or, heck, even Gauril. The attention was welcome the first three weeks…but after that, just plain annoying.

Enver nodded, leading me back towards the massive Farlost building. I'd probably need another magical potion to fix my arm up again. It'd definitely leave a scar. "He was the only one ever to get that first raw score."

I shook my head fervently. "Why does he hate me so much?" I voiced. I didn't understand it. What could I, a half-year, have done to provoke him?

"I don't know," Enver admitted. "But he still could have helped you. I've never seen him outright hate anyone, though he doesn't exactly like anyone, either."

"What a great guy," I groaned. He was one of those boys who was undeniably 'hot,' but his personality put him off instantly. A big no-no. Besides, the way Berkley described him; he'd never really shown interest in anyone. He was set to become the school's master Griffinor when he graduated. After all, Delia couldn't stay on forever.

With any luck, I'd be gone before then.

"Let's get you to the Infirmary," Enver said. We opened the door to Farlost, finding instead Shea looking untranslatable as usual.

"Professor Gerog needs you," he said in way of explanation to Enver. Enver looked caught - help me or go to the Professor?

"I'll take her, Enver," Shea smothered my hopes of Enver's decision. "I'd like to explain to the nurses why Amee is feeling woozy. Did the wittle gwiffin scare her?"

I gritted my teeth and removed Enver's now blood-soaked shirt from my arm. Fighting to look at the wound, I stared back up at Shea.

"Oh," he noted. "Maybe a bit more serious." His voice was level. Scarily so.

Enver pushed the shirt back onto my arm and ascended up the massive stairs to Gerog's office. I shuddered, remembering how cold and clammy her hand's had felt on mine the day of the magical assessment. "I'll come see you later," Enver assured me.

Calmly, I nodded as Shea took a position beside me, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and leading me towards the infirmary. His arm smacked mine.

"Um. Ouch."

Shea took my arm in his hands, not unlike how Enver had. He examined the damage tenderly. "I didn't know it hadn't healed yet."

"You also didn't know about it until you hit it with your elbow," I seethed. If he thought taking me to the nurses would make up for all the crap he'd given me at Farlost, then he was crazy. Then again, I thought of Berkley, maybe all the Scotsworths were a little titled in the head.

"I'm sorry," his answer was barely above a whisper, so thin that I thought that I might have imagined it. The next words were barely spoken at all. "Forgive me."

Like hell I would.

A/N: So...Enver's acting affectionate, Shea's acting oddly kind, and Leah's as irritating as ever. What ever to do? What do you think is the bee in Shea's bonnet?