Chapter 6:

"The only thing

you can really control

is how you react

to things out

of your control."

-Bassam Tarazi

The first week of training passed by slowly- or at least, I think it did. I no longer had a watch to go by, and the only time I caught a glimpse of the sun was of its fading rays through the Dining Hall's glass ceiling. Now my body was what counted time for me. Each minute of strain on my limbs, each second I felt the burn of my muscles, each drop of sweat descending down my neck; and nights of passing out on my dingy cot only to open my eyes to darkness again. It felt like an eternity had passed in one week.

Every day I would wake up early despite my exhaustion, and even with my new toiletries, I would speed shower before meeting Henry for breakfast. Sometimes the other male Erudite transfer Patrick would join us, but I dreaded those moments. Patrick was kind, but painfully shy and exhaustion transformed my wariness into irritability when it came to social niceties. I had no patience for carting to his social anxiety. After I was finished eating, I would return to the dorms and help Ian wake Justice up and finish getting ready. And that is where the torture would truly begin…

Scrambling to make down to the training room before eight o'clock without tripping on the uneven passages, or getting lost was not something I particularly enjoyed doing. But to follow that up with hours in the training room shooting heavy artillery sucked. The brief interlude of the day was lunch where we were all too tired and hungry to spend any time getting to know one another better. And that was followed by more hours of physical agony in the form of kickboxing.

Rinse and repeat.

Part of me was angry at this stupid system! The meager hours we were granted in between training was not sufficient time for muscles to heal. How were we supposed to build endurance when our bodies were not given enough time to rest? And when were they going to teach us the real skills? Being an obedient soldier was one thing, and I could accept that we needed those, but what about strategizing? Or how to survive off of the land? So far no one had taught me what it takes to be 'leader material'. And I personally felt that learning how to overcome psychological obstacles would be more beneficial than kicking a sand bag every day. I once wrote an essay on PTSD and the effects it had on pre-faction soldiers and was shocked at the symptoms. I didn't want to be haunted by any of them, once the brain was compromised; the body was as good as dead.

Not to mention I was tired. Physically my body was exhausted from the trauma it faced all day, every day. But no matter how worn out I was, every night I would lay my head down on my pillow and my mind would remain alert; filled with thoughts and questions. Thoughts of my future- how exactly would I carve my path through Dauntless? Thoughts of my family- was my father still trying to figure out why I defected, was my mother still angry at what I knew she would consider a betrayal?

But most of all I missed Alexander. I missed our intimate and invigorating discussions about art, poetry, and music. I missed his incredibly blue eyes and crooked smile. And I missed the way warm tingles would shoot through my toes when he kissed me, and the look on his face when he reached the height of his passion. During the day I didn't have time to think of all these things. My brain was constantly cataloguing my body's movements, and how to improve. But at night he was all I could think of. My emotions were frazzled, my mind scattered, and my body ached to feel him again.

So as tired as I was of all the fighting, a part of me never complained because I knew that if it was any less demanding, I would have been reduced to a sobbing mess by now. That training was the perfect distraction I needed from thinking of my old home, my old life.

Waking up for the eighth day in a row I began my usually routine of stripping down and showering at light speed. I then met up with Henry and we begun our descent down to the Dining Hall. Thankfully Patrick was still sleeping.

"What do you think we will be doing today?" Henry asked, wiping sleep from his eyes.

I shot him a flat look, "My best guess would be the same thing we do everyday."

Henry sighed, "Four said there was three parts to training. They can't just keep us doing target practice and kickboxing all summer…"

"True, but we don't know how long this stage of initiation will be. We could end up doing this for another two months and then only spend a week in the other stages."

Henry grimaced, "I hope not. I'm too tired to deal with this."

I wholeheartedly agreed.

When we arrived at the Dining Hall it was as usual sparsely filled. A couple of older women, and the same man that read the newspaper every day. No sign of other initiates- Dauntless born or transfers.

Henry and I didn't talk much as we ate our scrambled eggs and toast. Not only was it too early for invigorating conversation despite both of us being early risers, we were both only half awake. And as we left I grabbed two muffins as per usual for Justice and Ian. When we arrived back Ian was pulling the threadbare blankets off of Justice's snoring form. She feebly kicked at him, but still didn't open her eyes.

"If you don't get up now you won't be able to shower. And you will be too tired tonight to shower, which will result in your smelling positively rank," I briskly said as I slipped past her cot and flopped onto mine. Justice groaned, but she was far too vain to consider not showering and I was thankful for that.

I was less than enthusiastic on our trek down to the training room, but the sight that greeted me once I arrived stopped me dead in my tracks, and I wasn't the only one.

Two warriors were inside of the boxing ring. I wouldn't call what they were doing fighting because that seemed far too juvenile of a term. It was like the most brutally beautiful form of art. And each one of their strikes, blocks, kicks, and animalistic growled expletives absolutely mesmerized me. I could already feel my heart rate picking up pace in response to their blatant display of power and aggression.

Around me the rest of the transfers traded uneasy looks, not quite sure what to do at the sight of a leader and a trainer trading serious blows. But after about thirty seconds of standing at a cautious distance, everyone seemed to simultaneously creep forward. I moved along with them, my feet pulled by my wide eyes. Four and Eric paid us no mind, continuing to circle and strike at each other.

It was riveting to watch. Four was a couple inches taller than Eric, but Eric was undeniably more muscular. Any idiot would automatically assume that this would grant Eric the upper hand in the fight, but I knew that muscles didn't necessarily equal success. Eric apparently knew this as well.

My eyes focused in on his face, and I watched as he catalogued Four's every movement. A cobra ready to strike at the most opportune moment. Every time Four would leave himself open, Eric would rapidly and mercilessly strike; every blow Four aimed at him was blocked by one thick tattooed forearm or shin. His movements were sharp and surprisingly fluid for a man of his size. And even though he was only at the most twenty years old, Eric was undeniably a man. I had never witnessed anyone so starkly masculine in my life. He practically radiated testosterone.

Four by contrast seemed to be fuelled by intuition. He didn't study Eric's moves, he reacted to them, and then let his body follow up with an attack of his own. And in a way I could see why Four had berated me for using my brain because his fighting was purely instinctual, his movements severe. Eric moved like a snake, but Four moved like some kind of wild jungle cat. It made him unpredictable, and by the downward pull of Eric's lips he knew that too.

Quicker than my eye could see, Four struck his fist into Eric's sternum. Eric's eyes widened, but that was the only outward reaction he gave to just being punched. No wince, no faltering back, no gasping intake of air. And before Four had the chance to pull his arm back, Eric griped it and hauled him around. If it hadn't been so brutal I would have laughed as the two looked like they were locked in a lover's embrace. In some ways their fight did demonstrate intimacy. These two clearly knew everything about each other's fighting styles, every weakness, and every advantage when it came to sparring together.

Four pushed his heel into Eric's shin, but Eric didn't budge, in fact his grip tightened across Four's neck. I watched as Eric leaned forward whispered something to Four whilst smirking. Four's posture immediately became as rigid as possible while his neck was locked. He jabbed his elbow into the side where I knew Eric's kidney laid, and Eric immediately released him.

Instead of reengaging in the fight, the two fully fledged Dauntless members turned to face us.

I swallowed as their eyes still burning with bloodlust settled on us. Eric's cruel gaze locked on mine for a moment and I could see his eyes narrow for a moment before sweeping past me and settling on Justice. And I couldn't blame him, even amongst the flashy Dauntless, Justice stood out.

"Initiates today you will begin learning how to fight," Eric said, not bothering to raise his voice. He didn't need to, as all of us stood in nervous silence. "We have assessed your marksmanship skills, and Four taught you how to kick box, but now its time for hand to hand combat." His voice gave off an air of boredom, but vicious excitement danced in those slate coloured eyes.

Four dragged his glare away from Eric and addressed us, "Today Eric and I will be teaching you basic moves. Tomorrow you will begin testing these moves by fighting each other. Your status of winner or loser in each fight will be taken into consideration for rankings."

After Four stopped talking their was an awkward pause where all of us remained staring at the two not quite sure what to do next.

"Get into pairs," Eric growled at us.

I felt Justice immediately grab onto my elbow and was grateful. I knew that she wouldn't purposely try and injure me in order to damage me for the fighting tomorrow.

"Stand facing each other and copy our movements," Four said, still standing opposite Eric in the boxing ring.

Eric held both of his forearms up, fists facing out, to protect his face and neck, while Four reeled back his right arm and punched, his whole body lending momentum as his fist crashed into flesh and bone. Eric didn't falter back and raised a pierced eyebrow mockingly, but stayed silent.

"Now you do it," Four said straightening out of his slight crouch.

I turned to face Justice and she immediately said, "You block first."

My mind immediately weighed the pros and cons. If I blocked first my arms would be sore from her hits, which might damage my own ability to hit. But it would also lend me more time to heal for tomorrow. And tomorrow was a day that would actually count in our evaluation. So I bit my tongue and nodded bringing my arms up in front of my face. My first thought was that Eric made this look a lot simpler when he was facing off with Four. Because with my arms in front of my face I had not idea where exactly Justice was going to strike.

Justice's fist lightly hit me on my left forearm near my elbow. I dropped my arms and the two of us locked eyes before bursting out in giggles. In knew that without a doubt we looked ridiculous. I was not short per se- being a rather average height, but Justice was tall. So to have the two of us sparring like this was rather amusing. Justice turned and looked around before spotting Four heading towards us. I quickly raised my arms again, and Justice landed another hit, this time harder. I suppressed my wince as he walked by. Justice and I traded secret smiles as we seemingly got away with our little bout of childishness.

When Four called time, we switched positions. The moment Justice raised her arms to block her face I truly realized how difficult it would be for a person of my stature to fight a bigger opponent. Even reaching Justice's jugular with my fists would be problematic, especially when she was expecting the blow. Whereas if this was a real fight she could have just cuffed me on the side of the head and I would be down for the count. I would have to work on dodging taller opponents.

I practiced my hits, but was inwardly cataloguing where on her body I should actually be aiming- her kidneys, ribs, feet and groin. All the places on the body with clusters of highly sensitive nerve endings or vital organs that could be easily damaged if hit with the right angle and force.

It was as I was scanning Justice's lithe body for weak spots that Eric made his approaching, circling around us. I don't know how I didn't notice at first, because at all times his presence practically commanded attention. Out of my peripheral vision I noticed that his eyes were fixed intently on Justice, and her ability to block my hits.

"You're too loose," his gravelly voice informed Justice. "If you don't tighten your core muscles, you will be knocked backwards in a real fight." His narrowed grey eyes turned to me, "You're not aiming at the correct areas on your opponent."

I bit my lip. Out of all the people in Dauntless, Eric was the last person that I wanted to talk back to. But I suppose just one week in the faction of the brave my spine had thickened, and I was thoroughly confused.

"Four told us to mimic your movements, and he aimed at your throat," I said, and even with my new- found confidence, I wasn't quite able to meet his eyes.

If Eric was surprised at my statement of the obvious in the form of backtalk her didn't show it. "Well hitting her, or anyone above 5'8 in the neck is going to be a little difficult for you," he said, condescending undertones ringing in my ears. "Where should you really be aiming?"

I scanned Justice again not wanting to leave out a single weak spot I had picked up on. "If this was a real fight I would aim for her sternum, ribs, kidneys and groin. And since she tends to lean more towards her right I would aim my hits towards her open left."

Justice's eyes widened, while Eric just stared at me with an unreadable look on his face. It was simultaneously frustrating not knowing what a person who held the power over my future was thinking, and comforting as it reminded me of my Erudite life. But still, that calculating gaze was unnerving, and I had to fight my natural response to fidget under his intimidating eyes. Finally he gave me one sharp nod before turning to the next sparing pair.

Justice let out an audible sigh of relief as she watched him circle Ben and Fern. I too felt a load of tension lift from my shoulders.

But when Justice faced me again, her dark eyes looked troubled, "Lyra, why didn't you tell me I was leaving my left side open?"

I didn't know exactly what to tell her. Justice was my first friend in Dauntless and I didn't want to lose her, but another part of me was explicitly aware that this was a competition. I settled for shrugging and widening my green eyes, "I'm sorry, I probably should have said something, but to be fair I just noticed it with your last two hits."

Her dark eyes considered me for a moment. "Alright, but let me know next time when you spot something."

I nodded in agreement.

She craned her neck back again to look around. "I don't know how they expect us to learn anything in training with those two prowling around," she whispered, gesturing to where Four was correcting Marina's stance.

I grimaced, "They want to know that we can handle ourselves under high pressure situations I guess."

She snorted, "Nothing says high pressure like having Four bark orders at you or disintegrating under Eric's stare."

"That for sure!"

By the time Four dismissed us for lunch Justice and I had bruises blooming on the outside of my forearms and my elbow was throbbing angrily at an accidental hit. Ian by contrast looked chipper, his arms only slightly red.

"That was fun, wasn't it!" he said as he sauntered over to the platter of lasagna.

I snorted, "Fun for you maybe."

Justice huffed, "You were paired with Claire so its not like you had anything to worry about."

Ian went silent and it took a moment for Justice to notice how rude her comment was. I bit my lip in amusement as she tried backtracking, "Not that she is bad, you two are just unevenly matched."

But I couldn't help that notice that Justice probably had intended her words to bite a little because of the attention the redhead was receiving from Ian.

"I wonder who will be facing off against each other tomorrow," Justice pondered.

I considered it for a moment too wondering if they would pair us by perceived matching skill levels.

"I think it will be random," Ian said through a mouthful of food. I wrinkled my nose at his bad table manners.

"Why?" Justice asked.

He swallowed, "I think that all of us will eventually have to fight each other. It helps improve skills against any type of opponent you may face," Ian explained.

My eyebrows shot up, "You may be right."

Ian scoffed, "Do I want to know why you sound so surprised?" Justice and I broke into giggles again.

Lunch was over far too soon though and Four was leading us back to the training room. We immediately pair up again, but Four stopped us.

"In the afternoons, we will be focusing on you skills with a blade. First we will begin by throwing it, and then you will learn how to handle it in a close range fight," he explained.

My steps toward the targets were slightly more confident. I had done well with the guns once I got the motions down. The only thing I had working against me was my arms tiring, but knives were much lighter.

My confidence betrayed me though. Balancing a blade was much harder than I anticipated. And even though I had an eagle eye stare on Four's demonstration, I still couldn't get my blade to the point where I wanted it. And this time I didn't have the gruff trainer giving me pointers, as he was too busy correcting Ben's stance.

I watched Henry out of the corner of my eye as he consistently got his knife in the inner rings of the bull's eye. It was all in his eye and wrist movements. I tried copying his stance and it did help, but I still didn't manage to get one knife in the inner three circles. I found my enthusiasm for this particular activity completely drained by the time Four released us for dinner.

By the time I crawled into my bed that night I felt as though my energy had been tapped. Yet at the same time I yearned to run. My head once again was buzzing with thoughts like bees in a hive. Every spare memory, emotion or question that I had managed to suppress during the day came floating to the surface. And I decided that before the end of the week I would either find a treadmill or slip out of headquarters in the middle of the night and run free. It would be dangerous and I didn't know what the consequences were if I was caught. But I was Dauntless now, it was time I embraced a little danger.

That thought was quickly stifled come morning. I completed my regular routine, but by the time I was huddled in the training room with my fellow initiates I felt dread fill me. Because Eric was leaning against a chalk board with the label OPPONENTS and a list of names. My eyes scanned the table and stopped dead.

LYRA VS. HENRY

A/N: Hey everyone, hope you enjoyed the chapter! It actually gave me some difficulty, so that's why it's a little late. And my life is hectic!

Thank you to all those that reviewed, I really love hearing from you. And I'm glad so many people are now following this fic, please don't be shy in giving me feedback : )

This chapter is shorter than some of the others because I had to cut it into two, next part is where we will get some real Eric/Lyra interaction and some fighting!