Cassie was sitting on the floor of the practice field, sitting cross-legged, still. Anya was practicing a few steps ahead with Tris, showing her how to shoot arrows. Tris was good, very good, much better than Cassie who almost knocked Anya out with an arrow the one time she made the mistake of putting a bow in her hand.

Warriors fought with each other, other Wormanas trained with their sekens. Cassie had learned from Anya that most of the Wormana trained children to be their successors, or, in Anya's case, Heda's successors, which she did with Lexa. Cassie was having a little trouble figuring out how they could take a child to war.

'And what if the kid dies?'

'Then it means they were not fit for this world. Another child will take their place. '

Cassie had been horrified by such cruelty. Who could replace a dead child with another, without ulterior motive? In the old days, in the old world, child soldiers aroused horror and dread in some, became a supply of new hands for others. Cassie couldn't accept a world of such cruelty.

Nonetheless, she understood what the Grounders were thinking. In a hostile nature that constantly sought to get rid of them, they had to be prepared to fight to live from the cradle. It was unfair, but it was the way it was. Cassie couldn't change it.

So, she was sitting on the floor, watching around in surprise as the children fought against the adults. Unsurprisingly, Anya was more gentle and understanding of Tris' mistakes, firm and bossy, but respectful and considerate. Cassie wondered if she was just like that or if she herself remembered the days when she had been seken and had to make mistakes to learn.

Other Wormanas, on the other hand, did not have that consideration. They trained the children as if they had been adults, with harshness and almost tyranny. Cassie winced every time the child fell to the ground, in the mud, with an exclamation of pain. Yet they were still getting up, ready to battle again. And maybe that was the strength of the Grounders; to always get up.

Magnus was there too, training a young boy barely nine years old. Cassie had been watching the practice for several minutes, her lips pursed. The kid already had a black eye, which Cassie was sure had been done by Magnus. The little boy was frail, skinny, and his Wormana must have been at least three times his size. Cassie thought in horror that it wouldn't be long before he perished, whether from fatigue or in battle.

Anya didn't seem bothered in the slightest, but Cassie couldn't take her eyes off the frail figure of the boy who was trying to dodge Magnus's blows. A blow stronger than the others sent him soaring in the air, the little one landed on the ground, his cheek in the mud. He coughed, breathlessly, and painfully straightened up on his elbows.

"Get up. A warrior doesn't give up."

The little boy took a deep breath before managing to get up to return to the charge. He dodged a blow from Magnus, but failed to avoid the second and fell to the ground again, moaning in pain.

"I don't want to hear any complaints," Magnus growled. "Get up."

Cassie dug her fingernails into her hand as the child looked up between locks of sweat and mud soaked hair. Her heart was pounding, nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She watched, horrified, as the little boy scrambled to his feet.

No sooner had he resumed the fight when a hit to the face sent him back. Cassie felt her breath fail, her heart crashing in her chest. She felt like she was dying.

Blood trickled from the little boy's nose, he spat red saliva on the floor. A moan mingled with a sob of pain escaped him, Magnus leaned over him briskly.

"Do not cry. A warrior doesn't cry. Get up."

"I can't," the little boy whispered.

"What? I said get up!"

The child remained on the ground, hiding his face in his hands.

"What are you doing?! You are a warrior! Get up! You don't give up! Get up! Fight!"

The little boy did not move. Magnus then raised his fist, ready to make him pay for his insolence.

"No!"

Cassie threw herself forward, covering the little boy with her body. The shock of Magnus' fist against her head was violent, Cassie felt tears rise to her eyes.

"Cassie!"

That was Anya's voice. Cassie stood still, the little boy shaking in her arms. She looked up at Magnus, who was looking at her in dismay.

"Don't touch him! Don't ever lay a hand on him! I'll kill you, I'll kill you! "

"Cassie, let him go!"

Anya had run in her direction, Tris at her heels. All the warriors had stopped and stared at the scene in amazement.

"He's just a child! Don't touch him! Don't touch a single hair on his head! I'll kill you! I'll kill you, even if it's the last thing I ever do!"

"Cassie!"

Cassie jumped and turned to Anya who had put an iron hand on her shoulder, crushing her bones.

"Let him go. Right now. You are covering him with shame."

Cassie looked down at the child in her arms. If, seconds before, he had cuddled up against her gratefully, he was now trying to pull himself away, his cheeks flushed with shame. He abruptly released Cassie's hold, ran to stand behind Magnus, his chin straight and his nose bleeding.

Tris had her hands clasped to her mouth in dismay, Anya was giving Cassie a murderous look.

"How dare you?!" Suddenly thundered Magnus.

Cassie turned to him in surprise and found him flushed with fury and anger.

"She didn't mean anything, Magnus," Anya interjected. "Where she's from, they don't train their children. She didn't know what she was doing."

"She will learn. She is not on her moon anymore, she is among our people. I won't let her infect all of our people."

Anya seemed to guess what he was going to say before he said it.

"I challenge you, Skaigada."