The next morning, my first official morning as an apprentice, found me in the middle of a one-sided crossfire that was quickly becoming ugly.

Turns out, I do know who the Old Hag is. Staring blankly at her distorted face now, I should've known that the woman was no other than Jessica – the only leader among the five who seem to have reservations on the dogs' settlement. For Eric to politely point her out to me the night he gave me the phone makes me severely doubt that the meeting regarding the dogs went as smoothly as he described.

And the situation now only proves it.

My eyes flit down to the two black porcelain mugs of steaming coffee on the table in front of me. Eric had made them for us, saying how meetings are usually a drain and bore. Oh, how I wished he was right.

"I already have five complaints from human resource!" the old hag yells hysterically, papers waving erratically in the air. "How could you not see the nuisance the dogs are causing! Disrupting all our lives!"

Beside me, Veronica mutters under her breath, "Huh, I was expecting twenty at least." I'm not sure what to make of that.

It had been a good morning – until it wasn't. Woke up with two hours to spare, took the dogs to the mini forest so they could go to the toilet and exercise, brought them back to the apartment for breakfast, collected the dog beds for the office, send Gunner off for his first day of work, stopped by Eric halfway, walked to the office together. He had insistedto carry the dog beds, forcing me to swap the bulky items for an unopened packet of instant coffee he brought for the pantry. I tried pointing out how weak I look, but he merely rolled his eyes and continued walking.

I was in an excellent mood, albeit nervous on my first day. Everything was falling into place; the dogs can independently navigate their way around the main parts Dauntless, the general population appears to be accepting of them, children aren't afraid of the dogs and Four has agreed to try training them today. The only thing that could make it better would be for Hawk and Sabre to start their complimentary delivery services.

After we dropped off the beds and had the dogs stay at the office for the duration of the meeting, we made a detour to the floor's pantry. I wasn't a fan of coffee, but Eric assured me that he would drink it if I ended up not 'needing' it. He gave me a brief rundown on what typically happens each day, telling me how we will be visiting all the factions at least every other week, as well as our faction's leaders and their names. While I knew Kyle's and Veronica's roles already, I learned that Jessica's in charge of the faction's wellbeing and buildings. She is the one who's being replaced with either me or Cole. When I asked Eric why – as I don't recall seeing an elderly leader - he only provided the terse answer of 'age'.

And he wasn't wrong.

The old hag started hacking away the millisecond her eye laid upon me as I walked through the door with Eric at my heels. If I had to describe her in two words, it would be 'rabid dog'. In a flash, her face had twisted into a sickening scowl that made me flinch, the words spewing from her mouth enough to wake everyone at the table. Their backs had humorously shot straight up as their eyes widened, darting between me and the respected retiring witch in alarm.

Eric's previous grin had completely evaporated by the time we've settled into the blank vinyl seats. On any other day, I would've commented on how these chairs were by far the most comfortable I've sat on, pointing out that's probably why people tend to nod off. I would've gone as dumb as to compliment the inanimate table too, since I was in such a good mood.

Alas, today is not any other day.

From my peripheral, the vein on Eric's forehead is already pulsing, blood rushing to his face like boiling kettle. Jaw clenched as he glares at the leader, no doubt a ticking bomb. Belatedly, Kyle rises from his seat next to Jessica's, cautiously placing his hand on the accusing arm that's directed towards me. "Calm down Jes-"

"Don't touch me!" she shrieks, causing him to wince at the amplitude and pitch. "Just you wait! Soon there will be an uproar among the members! Then what! There will be a split among us! Will you still protect her, Eric? How blinded are you? Can't you see how she's just using you!" she snarls viciously. I blink once, completely lost on how she has drawn up such a stupidly drastic conclusion.

It's obvious by now that logic had abandoned her in her delirium. But even with her delusional state, Eric is having none of it, especially now that her anger had taken a new stage. Faster than Gunner detecting threats – which is extremely fast, by the way – Eric is up from his seat, chair screeching loudly against the stone floor. "How dare you blindly accuse her! Keep your disgustingly wide nose out of our business," he snarls. Now that he's mentioned it, the old hag does have a rather unnaturally wide nose. Veronica chokes on her water, coughing and spluttering beside me. Though his next words are calmer, it still maintains its intensity. "I suggest you watch your tongue before you lose it."

Huh.

I don't doubt that Eric would carry out his creative threat, knowing him, he probably has a knife tucked in his pocket right now. Yet despite the old hag working with him for over a year, she writes it off. Rather than calming down, Jessica pushes him. "Oh yeah? Then watch your whore before-"

A few things happen at once. I notice Eric stretching to the side, hand swiftly moving to the side of his trousers, where a concealed gun waited exposed under his vest. A fist slams, coffee spills out of our cups onto the ebony table. The word 'enough' authoritatively booms between us and the old hag.

My hand instinctively grab Eric's, stopping a moment before his fingertips graze the metal. Unlike where Jessica snapped at Kyle, Eric's gaze flickers down to me questioningly, the clash between control and aggression waging in the depths of his slate-blue eyes.

Instead of shaking my head or pushing his hand away, I did something that even I couldn't explain. My hand digs into the pocket at my calf to pull out a pocket knife, the one he gave during the Amity trip.

Almost instantly, all rage is replaced by confusion. Eric stares at the folded place knife, the arm that was aiming for the gun going limp. He gapes at the knife, transforming from a murderous tyrant to a confused child in a matter of milliseconds. Oblivious to the shouting between Max and Jessica, Eric slowly lowers himself onto the chair, his attention not once diverting from the sleek black metal extended to him.

"You kept it," he states, expression unreadable.

Now it's my turn to be confused. My head tilts as I retract my hand to examine the clean metal, "Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?" I had forgotten to return it on that day, keeping it with me in hopes I would remember – I never do.

He blinks at me then casts his eyes to the ground, mumbling words I failed to catch over the clamorous arguing. For a few moments, it seemed like he was possessed, lips moving incoherently with eyes unseeing.

I assume he wants me to keep it, judging by how he's acting all weird, or maybe the weight of it has unhealthily grown on me. Slipping the knife back into my trousers, I lean forward to him in concern. "You okay?"

His gaze snaps back to mine. "Yeah, it's just. I mean…" he trails off distantly, lips pursing as his eyes lower slightly. A second of silence between us pass before he turns away and shakes his head, frowning at himself.

"No, I should be asking you that. Are you alright?" he scans my form like I had been physically assaulted, his classic confident demeanor returning.

Just as I'm about to reply, a bunch of tissues is shoved towards me, courtesy of Veronica. Only when she nods to the stray liquid on the table do I realize what it's for. "Yes, yes. I'm fine," I reply, plucking the tissues from her to wipe the puddles of caffeine.

Eric is skeptical of my answer but doesn't pry, choosing instead to grab the damp tissues from me. My attention returns to the old hag, of which Cole and Kyle are currently escorting out of the room. Max fumes from his seat; in his clenched hands are the papers that Jessica had been wildly flinging in the air. The lines on his forehead deepen as he scans the formal complaints, his grip on them so tight that it's beginning to scrunch up.

After the whole meltdown with Jessica, the rest of the meeting proceeded smoothly. Well, as smooth as it can get after what had boiled over. Max did his best to introduce everyone, explaining how the leaders work together and run the faction. After that, the leaders took turns updating each other on their posts, as well as debating upon arising matters.

These discussions were pretty quiet, with Max being the main driver and Kyle chipping in once in a while. Veronica barely spoke. There isn't a doubt in my mind that Jessica's absence has contributed to the dullness of today's discussions.

Unfortunately, my unplanned tactic of throwing Eric off didn't last long. Despite Jessica no longer being in the room for over an hour, Eric's still brooding beside me. I would've joined his brainstorming session on how to surreptitiously carve out Jessica's tongue if it weren't for the sinking feeling that has been gnawing at me. As much as I hate to admit, what Jessica had said affected me, despite only having listened to half.

Contrary to what others might be thinking, I'm not having the mental breakdown, nor am I silently conspiring like the man beside me. Sitting here, with having nothing to do but dwell on what had just unfolded, I just felt…

Numb.

Nothing of what Max or anyone has been saying was entering my ears, information exiting as quickly as they came. At one point Eric noticed this, because the next thing I knew, my phone buzzes with a text saying 'I'll explain to you later.' Even at that point, I couldn't manage a smile or a 'thanks'; the slight twitch at the corner of my lips being the only indication that I was grateful.

In retrospect, most of what the old hag said weren't valid points. However, she did force a rift between me and the rest of the leaders - one that I did not ask for.

The meeting had ended uneventfully, with Max wishing all of us a good week, a false smile plastered on his face. Just like me, Eric couldn't wait to get out of the room as quickly as possible. We were out of the door before anyone else rose from their seats.

"Why didn't Max bring up the complaints?" I ask. If there was one thing that bothered me throughout the whole meeting, it was the small – but undoubtedly growing – stack of complaints the old hag brought in. I was tense in anticipation for Max to read them out, but he merely cast it aside and left it there.

At the sound of my voice, two synchronized heads snap to me. Their tails wag as they clamber out of their beds towards me, pausing midway to stretch. Eric closes the door behind me with a sigh of relief, locking it for good measure. "Because they weren't valid reasons." He pauses to scan my expression. "Is that what's been bothering you? Because I can assure you that, that, was nothing." He leans against the door, almost like he was afraid someone would barge in.

"I guess? Maybe I was overthinking it." Of course there will be people against it; this isn't peace-serum high Amity. Nevertheless, I would do everything in my power to ensure my furkids remain here. "Hi babies," I greet, settling into a seat as the dogs hurtle towards me, their excitement contagious. I pull them into a hug as they prop themselves up, nestling my face into Hawk's fur. The dogs have a calming effect on me. It's some sort of supernatural power that turns my horrible mood to dust, a power that rarely fails.

Once I'm feeling much lighter, like the world is no longer pressing down on me, I lean back. Had not my dogs be here, I don't want to imagine how worked up I would've gotten. "How often do these complaints occur?" I ask curiously. Eric's moved from the door, claiming my desk as his.

"Well, complaints are nothing new. Ever since Jeanine incorporated the system of 'peaceful' objections, the human resource gets a lot of them in a day over everything imaginable," he shrugs, booting up the computer. "Most of the incident reports and complaints are pretty petty. They typically consist of whiny adults who prefer point reduction or blacklists over roughing it out there and then."

"Sabre, you can stop chewing on my arm now." It takes a moment for my dog to register that I am indeed, talking to him. The gears turning in his head is almost visible as his eyes flash between me and an amused Eric. Once processing is complete, he gapes at me in shock that I noticed, dropping my arm that's now decorated with saliva and light bite marks. "Thanks." That'll need a few thorough washes.

"Then why not abolish it?" I ask. It never occurred to me that there was a 'whine booth' at Dauntless, seeing that brawls are frequent around the faction.

He clicks a few items, not bothered by the idiocy of the system. "Jeanine wanted it, said that it made us look more 'sophisticated'. I did try to have it abolished, but Jessica was having none of it. To be frank, I think this just gives her an excuse to off-load her more important work and also get in on the latest gossip," he says dryly. "Not that it bothers me. It's good that most of the key decisions are no longer made by her."

Everything feels calmer now that we've moved past the events that unfolded earlier. I pray that what Eric told me about the complaints aren't a lie, for I won't know what to do if Jessica's predictions prove true. My dogs are unbothered by it, having settled back into their beds to resume their naps. I should learn from them sometime.

"Who does her job now?"

Eric pops his neck and makes eye contact. "Me. Veronica does some parts of it too. Now that Cole is being mentored by her, he'll be taking some load off our backs." When he returns to the screen, his face brightens slightly and leans back, satisfied with what he's found. "And you know what's the worst part?" he picks up from the conversation.

"What?"

"Most of the time, those complaints or incident reports are just ignored. Rarely is there any action taken unless serious. This whole system mostly gives the members a false sense of self-importance. It works too, for Dauntless aren't known to hold grudges like the Candor and Erudite do."

"Pardon?" He holds up the limp black suit dubiously, looking between it and a hyper Sabre.

I pick up the bite pillow and hand it to him. "Remember how I told you about the dogs and their training?" He blinks. "When we were on the rooftop? It was the first weekend I think. You found me staring at the photo of them?" I try jogging his memory.

Placing the suit down onto the mat, he rests his hands on his hips, thinking. Gunner drops the ball he's just fetched at my feet. "Yeah… but when you said training, it never occurred to me that you trained them on…" he gestures the equipment splayed on the mat, "this, considering you're from Amity."

Did he think that training consisted of 'sit' and 'shake hand'?

"Yeah, well, my mom is from Dauntless. We do still have a danger aspect," I snap back almost icily, feeling offended that even after how I've performed during stage one, he couldn't connect the dots. The next ball that drops at my feet distracts me from saying something sharp; Hawk looks up to me expectedly.

Deep breaths.

My arm reels back as I toss the ball across the vacant initiate training room. "They began training just months after they were born. Mostly protection; attack work for Sabre."

Four, as usual, is completely oblivious on the effect his words had on me. He examines the bite pillow, fingers trailing over the tiny but many indents in wonder. "So these are… bite marks?" he asks incredulously, flipping the pillow over to point.

"Yep. This was when they were pups, since they weren't tall enough to reach the arm," the tip of my tennis shoe nudges the battered bite sleeve. "Now we use the bodysuit. Don't want them just aiming for the arm. You can try the pillow on Sabre, just place it in front of him. Hold tight, Sabre can be quite… forceful and tenacious."

Four doesn't seem to take my advice seriously as he casually sticks the pillow towards Sabre; maybe he thinks that his thick biceps will save him. "He's not doing anything."

"I know, I know. Sabre?" The black-tipped ears perk at his name, tail wag intensifying. "Go."

Immediately, Four's eyebrows shoot up as he stumbles forward and grunts. The weight of the Sabre's whipping form causing him to lurch along until he finally manages decent footing. "That's, crazy," he wheezes, the muscles on his biceps tensed as he lifts the pillow, Sabre follows with the motion, jaws unrelenting.

"Break." Sabre jumps back down to all fours, tail wagging as he trots up to me. "He is part wolf after all. Can't expect anything less I guess." Sabre has the highest prey-drive too, but I don't think Four would appreciate being compared to a squirrel or deer.

"Part wolf?" he splutters, taking a step away from us. "And he can just bite someone, just like that?" This is the first time Four has completely dropped his placid façade. He looks genuinely alarmed for once, emotions raw on his features.

I rush to reassure him. "Of course not. Sabre – as well as the rest – needs to first identify a threat. Even if I say 'Sabre, go' now..." I do my best to mimic the tone from earlier, Four flinches. "He wouldn't do anything." As predicted, the dog slowly twirls in confusion before returning his attention to me. "Dogs are good at reading people, so their judgment is the first and final nudge on whether they will act."

Four is surprised by the knowledge. I can't blame him since I had gone out of my way to read up on it. "Then what about that?" He shakes slightly drooled pillow a bit too wildly. "I wasn't a threat!"

I blink. "Oh, that. That's different, cause you placed it in front of his face and it is a known bite item. I just wanted you to experience his bite force before anything." Plucking the bite pillow from his hand, I pass it to Sabre, who eagerly grabs it and runs off prancing like a deer. "Gunner and Hawk work differently. Their focus is different from Sabre's," I explain.

Instead of re-tossing the ball like I did with Hawk's, I pat the side of my thigh when Gunner approaches me. "Sabre's aim is more towards keeping someone down – an enemy or hostile of sorts. So, he tends to be more vicious, with the tactics ingrain into him being possibly… fatal."

Four's jaw slacks as he regards the gleefully prancing dog with new eyes. "And you've managed to train him like this in Amity? How?"

"Well, I had John – my cousin – for help. We didn't do it out in the open, just at a clearing where it was far from the people," I say, chucking Hawk's slobbered ball to another direction of the room. "On the other hand, Hawk and Gunner lean more towards the protection side," I stroke Gunner's head as he stares up at me attentively. "Their focus is the person they're protecting, me, typically."

Gunner follows to my heel as I travel the length of the mat. "So, if I were to say, be threatened, Gunner wouldn't fully lash out unless they are close enough to inflict harm. And even then, he will only warn or damage the attacker enough to chase him away, he's not trained to completely disable."

Four takes his time to process the information, his fingers at the tip of his chin. "So… they only protect you?"

"Typically yes, but they will protect whoever they are close with as well, such as my family." Well at least, I think they do - we never had any break-ins or fights in Amity. Trespassing is non-existent there, and that isn't because people don't invade our home.

"What if I sneaked up on you? Will Gunner sense it?"

I'm almost tempted to tell him to try it out himself, but I don't think it's too good of an idea to scare him twice on his first time. "He will. Dogs have excellent hearing and smell. Of course, your intentions matter too, and that's displayed through your body language."

He appears unconvinced, which is odd considering that I figured he would've seen the supermarket incident. "What if it's a child running up to him?"

Snippets of my dogs being harassed by hippies flood my mind. "No. They aren't coming to cause harm. Even if a child makes the dogs uncomfortable by tugging, they won't snap. It's all about exposure and having the dog go through different scenarios. This helps with their tolerance." I point at the reproaching Hawk, "Take this guy, for example, he's exceptionally good with children. Although the other two aren't too shabby themselves, they are another story."

His gaze alternates between the running Hawk and Sabre who's throwing the pillow across the room. "And why's that? Isn't he and Sabre the same breed? That's what you told me right."

"Personalities differ. Hawk has always been a bit more outgoing than the other two. I guess one of the major factors that come to play is their mixed genome. Hawk has a bit of border collie in him, which is a breed excellent with children," I experienced that first hand in Amity. " Sabre, on the other hand, has wolf genes. It's mostly extracted from the Czechoslovakian wolfdog, so-" I cut myself short, realizing that I am starting to get technical with someone who knows next to nothing about canines.

"Long story short, he prefers solitude with his family. He's less outgoing with others."

Somehow, Four seems to understand parts of it. "And you did this how?" he asks.

"Erudite. A decade or two ago, they invented a machine that could alter the DNA of organisms. My dad was among the only ones taught on this, which is how the dogs managed to come about. Erudite gave us the machine to manipulate the genomes of animals and plants, increasing the production rate and quality by changing the characteristics of organisms. That's how we managed to produce the first herding dogs too."

He stares at me, perplexed but intrigued. "So your dad knows how to… code for animals?"

"They have a DNA bank for the farming species. He just kinda swaps bits and pieces. They didn't come in one go since it's quite complex to compartmentalize to their characteristics and traits. Even today they are still updating the system," I reply. I'm unsure of how it works too, since I gave him what's equivalent to a shopping list for the dogs.

"Huh."

Unknown to most people, all animals used for meat products have been genetically modified. It was the only way to keep up with the growing population without jeopardizing the animal's standard of living – as requested by the previous Amity leader.

Sabre nudges me, moist pillow touching the back of my now-dirty hand. Picking the pillow from him, I suddenly remember something. "There aren't cameras here right?" Exposing my dogs' abilities to the whole faction will not go down well, especially with Jessica on the prowl. Though I did check during my initiation days, I want to be sure.

"Hmm?" His attention at Sabre moves back to me. "No, there isn't. But there are cameras at the entrances outside."

That's good. "So, what do you think?" I gesture to my panting dogs, "Still want to train them? It's fine if you want to back out, I know they can be a bit… much… at times."

He hesitates a bit, scrutinizing my dogs like he did to the initiates. "I think it'll be interesting. This is the first time I'm meeting dogs in a different light," he nods to himself then towards the arm sleeve, "What Sabre did earlier was only aimed at the arm… I'm sure they can't get worse than that."

My vision flickers down to the limp black bodysuit on the ground. "Actually…"

I'm not sure how to break this to him.

A/N

This chapter took me much longer to write than expected. Weird since I had been planning it for a while back already.

School (A-Levels) is reopening again, so I will have less time to write. I hope this won't affect it too much, but physical school tends to burn more time than online. I will be posting the following chapter this weekend, so if I do happen to go on haitus, it'll be on a chapter that I'm sure you'll love hehe.