OKAY so it's been a while, and I'm sorry for making y'all wait on this chapter! But I had Nanowrimo (which I won for the first time!) and after that I had a huge lengthy writers block which prevented me from actually having the motivation to sit down and write something. But after a long wait, here is Chapter 12!

NOTE: I know it sounds like it, but the commander guy is not Germany!

~-~

"Look, there's your target, Elsie." He points at a red spot on the tree, which is about ten metres away from me. "Try aiming at that red spot. Then focus on it, and throw. You know what to do. I believe in you."

I hold the silver knife in my right hand, and I line myself up with the red spot. I throw the knife too early, before I've focused, and it zips through the air and lands on the ground a few inches to the right of the tree. He hands me another knife. "Don't be distracted by one failure. You'll reach your target, trust me. Just keep trying." I throw again. It's too low. Again. Too high. Again. Misses completely. Again. Low. Again. Miss. Again. Too weak a throw, it lands on the ground. He keeps telling me to go again, again, again, until it lodges itself right in the centre of the red spot by complete luck. He tells me to do it again, and takes out the knife from where it hit.

I throw again, and it's a hit. He pulls the knife out again.

"Again. Do it again. Practice. Hit. The. Target. Once you're out there in real life, you're not allowed to miss. You have to strike, every single time."

So I throw it again. And it hits. He grabs it by the handle and yanks it from the tree. There's now a clear dent in the tree, and other marks from my misses. He takes all the other knives that he can recover and gives them all back to me. "Let's move on."

~-~

As soon as we arrive, we're greeted not so kindly by a very tall and muscular man with blonde hair and blue eyes. The first thing he does is eye us all over, then tell us to get into equal rows and stand completely stationary so he can examine us. I don't see Tino anywhere, so Berwald and I stand next to each other. I can see Milen, but no Vladimir. I recognise various other faces, and there are also people joining the army who aren't from the institution. They'll probably be given the higher ranking jobs, or whatever jobs you get in the military. Surely the boys are well-educated on this subject, of what goes on in the military, but I'm clueless as to what's going on here.

"Right, you useless load of good-for-nothings. Let's see what you're made of. You, boy!"

A dark-haired boy stands to attention. "Yes, sir!"

"What's your name?"

"Nic Moschella, sir!"

Italian. The name Nic must be short for something else, but the surname sounds Italian.

"Well, Nic, why have you joined the military? Got any skills you'll surprise me with? You're quite a short lad, aren't you. Do you think you have the capability to fight for this army?"

"Yes, Sir! I have joined because I wish to offer up my life to help maintain the peace of the world, sir!"

"As I thought. Pathetic." He moves on, and starts questioning others. I memorise the names. Finlay MacAngus. Teodor Gaspari. Fintan Petrov. Kaspar Bogdanov. Nye Kavanah. Different names from different nationalities, mostly the ones from the institution, the less fortunate nationalities who were locked up within the fences and confined and controlled. He comes up to stand right in front of me, and I look up at him, keeping my face stoic and emotionless. I don't want him to think I'm scared, or vulnerable, like some of the other boys were.

"So, who are you, pretty boy? You look like you don't have as much muscle on you as the others. What are you here for?"

"My name is Lukas Bondevik." The new name sounds odd when I'm referring to myself, but I'll have to get used to it. I can't slip up. I keep my voice in the same low tone, without making it seem forced. It's harder than I thought - however, the sheer fact that if I mess up I'm dead is enough to make me put the effort in. I wonder how long I can keep my voice for when it's strained like this. "I'm here because I want to fight. Even if I seem to not have the strength you're looking for, most of my talents lie in stealth than just muscle. Which is a skill that is needed in an army, just as much as someone who can lift heavy weights." My voice sounds a lot more monotonous than usual, but I don't really know what else I was expecting. I've always come off as emotionless, even when I didn't mean to. Sometimes it offends people, sometimes it makes people stop talking to me. Because who would want to talk to someone who doesn't give off any emotion? Whose voice never makes it seem like they're interested? Who acts like a jerk to everyone because they don't want anyone to be close to them in fear of their fate ending up the same as the last ones they let in?

I don't usually dwell on my history; thinking about it too much gives me a headache, and a panging in my heart. But it has affected the way I act a lot. I had just started to open up to my new family when suddenly they were all killed before my very eyes, and the ones who weren't killed suffered the same fate as me - locked in the institution and 'tamed', as the soldiers who dragged us from our once safe home to the institution told us. I never saw my family again after that. They might have died in the institution, from natural causes or from execution. I don't know.

"Well, Lukas." The man's voice brings me back to reality and I continue to look him directly in the eye. "You better be as stealthy as you say you are, otherwise you'll be sent to work in those bloody meadows before you even know what's hit ya." He moves onto Berwald, who replies to every question with very short answers before the man gets extremely irritated and begins to turn red with rage, before he calms himself down, grits his teeth and moves on. It's hilarious, because Berwald is about the same height as him, so the man isn't as intimidating when he's not looking down on him. I wonder if Berwald was scared, if he was just like me; seemingly emotionless. I feel like we could get along because of that, if we related to one another. And we both want to protect Tino.

He goes through the rest of the guys. I spot as he calls out the names "Vladimir", "Milen" and eventually "Tino", which makes both myself and Berwald breathe out a huge sigh of relief. Tino is here, along with us, as is Vladimir and Milen... who aren't in on the plan. They will probably recognise me, and then we'll have to discuss things. As for the rest of the guys from the institution... well, I never really made a huge name for myself, nor did I have a reputation for anything. So I doubt anyone will really know who I am. It's a good thing, really; I'm just an unfamiliar face, and if they have seen me around the institution, especially in the last few days after my haircut when I spent a lot of time on the table with Tino, Berwald, Milen and Vladimir, they'll find it slightly familiar. I just hope nobody downright knows who I am and sees through me. If they do... well, they better be on my side or I'm dead.

Once he's done trying to intimidate everyone (and succeeding for the majority), he steps back and analyses us all once again, eyes scrutinising all of us as if bearing into our minds and weighing up our worth to him. He looks pained, like he isn't happy with what he's got. "Well, all you little maggots better be useful for something other than cleaning the lavatories!" he shouted out, his threatening tone ringing out across the overwrought silence of the courtyard in which the new recruits stood, lined up like animals ready for slaughter.

I do not want to be seen like that. I keep my chin up high, resisting my usual urges to let my head hang low in a natural instinct to keep myself concealed. I never did like walking with my head up; I hated the look of confidence which so defied what I really am. I became adjusted to keeping my head down and getting on with whatever I had to do. My days became worthless, life was no longer something I wanted to tolerate living, but I carried on with the pathetic dream in mind that one day it will get better. How naive I was. Is this fate, of serving the military and potentially ending my own life, is this really better than the fate I was destined for, to leave the institution and become a servant? Will I truly find happiness here?

I am selfish. So, so selfish; I dragged two people into this mess all because I wasn't satisfied with something. And I hate myself for it. My stubbornness and my habit of only caring for myself after years of having no one else to care for led two other people into a situation that, if revealed, could get them killed. And the only reason they assisted me is because I'm Norwegian and they want information. Tino and Berwald didn't seem like the type to use people, or force information out of them - they seemed like the type to fairly exchange favours and information, so both sides got the best thing possible out of it; I suppose that is what this is. A fair deal between friends. Lord knows how I got friends out of my nationality, something usually considered dreadful and grounds for execution. All because some Norwegian people rebelled against the system once, I have to pay the price. And all the innocent Norwegians who died from this rebellion.

Only when I stop to think about it do I realise the truth; we truly do live in a dystopian world.

~-~

The first evening in the military camp is one of what the officers deem a 'celebratory meal', which seems to translate to bread that isn't stale ("for once", as one of the older soldiers pointed out) and some soup. It's not bad tasting, just very bland. Then again, I'm adjusted to bland meals. I haven't had a proper meal since Christmas, when the institution gave us some treats like an orange alongside our normal dinner, and some meat which wasn't either rock hard or fatty as hell.

There is idle chatter all around as people get to know one another, but I stay alongside Tino and Berwald. We eat in a comfortable silence, Tino occasionally making comments only to be met with grunts in response or a small gesture. Eventually he turns to Vladimir and Milen on the table behind and begins making conversation. I finish the last of my soup and take my final sip of water, and furrow my brows. What now?

"Do we go to the cabins?" I question Berwald, who shrugs.

"I guess." He speaks in a low voice, which always oddly surprises me. Tino turns back around with a bright smile.

"If we all go in the same area of the cabin, we can help you, uh, cover up, Lukas!" he says, lowering his voice for the final part so only we can hear it.

I nod. "That sounds good, then." I almost forgot that I am supposed to be a boy, a d I thought I'd have to room with girls. It was pretty stupid of me, considering I am probably the only female in this room and the rest of the girls who left the institution alongside me are probably being placed in large mansions to do dirty work for the master or mistress of the house, or being put in even worse places like brothels or clubs.

Honestly, when it came down to it, I'm quite lucky to be having some adventures whilst they remain enclosed in their small world. If only I'd chosen to be a sailor, I could have travelled the world; well, I get sea-sick very easily, so I doubt that would work out. And my social skills are far below average, so being a merchant was never the right choice for me. The military is the only path I can take.

Vladimir and Milen move to our table, bringing some new guys with them. "These are Finlay and Fintan. Finlay and Fintan, this is Lukas, Tino and Berwald. Yeah, Tino is the happy one, Berwald is the quiet one and Lukas is the one that looks like a corpse half the time."

I shoot Vladimir a glare. "I dislike you, Vladimir."

"You seriously remind me of a girl I knew back at the institution."

I try not to flinch. "Do I?"

"Yeah. She didn't like me either. Tried to be friends, but..." He clicks his tongue and shrugs.

I nod slowly. "Right." I stand up, lifting my tray off the wooden surface of the table. "Is there anywhere to put this?"

"Over there, near the door."

"Thank you."

Milen grins at me and I ignore him. I walk towards the place where the trays are put away, but I'm abruptly stopped when someone walks right in front of me. My eyes trail upwards from where I'd been fixated on the ground, and I come face to face with a shocked-looking red-haired guy. His expression twists into a grin and he laughs lightly. "My apologies," he says in a thick Irish accent. "Didn't see ya there!"

I slowly move past him and put my tray down, and he stares at me. "Any reason why ya seem to have lost yer voice?" he asks, and I turn to him reluctantly.

"I haven't lost my voice," I say.

"Then speak!" he says cheerfully. "That's what voices are for, right?"

"I prefer not to." My voice comes out in a monotone once again.

His smile falters. "Damn, you're an odd one. Ya got a cool voice, though. Quite high for a boy."

"Shut up," I grumble.

He chuckles. "Don't worry, bro, I'm only teasin' ya. Ya make it quite easy."

"Can I leave now or are you going to hold me up even longer?"

"Just wanted to know where yer from."

"None of your business," I finish, and walk out the door. I hear Tino's hurried footsteps behind me and the slow clumps of Berwald's shoes.

"Luk-aaas, don't be so cold towards people!" Tino whines.

"He had it coming. Nosy bastard," I mutter.

"C'mon, you gotta try and make some friends. Here, if I ask him not to ask you any intrusive questions again, will you at least attempt to get along with him? I know Finn, and he's a pretty cool guy, if you can actually distinguish what he says from his accent."

"Fine. But if he- no, if anyone asks me-"

"It's fine, E- Lukas."

The close slip of my name causes us both to tense up slightly, but we decide to head to the cabins before we make any real mistakes. Tomorrow we start training, so we need rest. We reach the cabins and are amongst the first there, being able to claim our bunk beds in the corner. Berwald goes on the bottom bunk in the corner and I go on the top bunk, then Tino takes the bottom bunk of the bed next to it and says once one of his friends like Finn comes in he'll ask them if they want to share.

Once the rest of them join us, the whole cabin engages in a conversation. I am perfectly content just watching them and listening. Nobody bothers me, and nobody asks me any intrusive questions again. I lean back against the wall and let out a soft sigh. It's been a long day, and there are many more to come, weeks and weeks of hard labour and intense training with scarcely any breaks.

It's not the most overjoying thing, but it sure beats doing nothing at the institution. After years of being confined into one camp with the same people day in, day out, same routine, so eerily similar that each day blends in until you don't know the date anymore... trust me, it's nice to have a little adventure afterwards.

Once the conversation is over, someone leans over and the lights are turned off. I force my eyes closed, and begin to drift off, dreaming of adventures beyond the world I know sometime, and sometime soon.

But until then, I am content. As of now.

Thank you for reading and please leave a review, they make my day! :D