The Fear Trials Read Online Free PDF Page A

Trace’s.
    I’m fine. Just my father and his insane survival training.
    I don’t know what else to write, so I just sign my name.
    Meadow.
    I shove one of my mother’s arrows through the middle of the paper. Then I stand up, aim for Trace’s boat, and squeeze the trigger on the crossbow.
    I sit back and wait.

Chapter 12
    M y father’s dead because I didn’t train hard enough. My mother’s dead because I was too afraid to kill someone to save her.
    Keep training. It’s the only way.
    Trace.
    We write letters back and forth all night. Pencil to paper, paper to arrow, arrow to the sky and back down again.
    The night wears on, and dawn arrives. I sit on the roof of the cabin and watch Trace go about her morning as their boat arrives. She is about the same size as I am. Her hair is as red as a blazing fire.
    She has a little sister who could be Peri’s age. The girl comes out on the boat, and I see her hair is red, too. Trace chases her back and forth across the deck. I hear the little girl’s giggle. I hear Trace singing a song. I watch them throw nets in the water, searching for food, but come up empty every time.
    It is like Trace and I are living the same life, both of us stuck in this dying world.
    Before my father wakes for the day, I write her a final note.
    Talk again tonight.
    I smile. I didn’t know it was possible to have friends in this world. But I think I might have found one.
    Stay safe.
    Â 
    Today, I will learn how to properly throw a knife.
    My father brings out his knife roll, a strip of leather that he keeps his weapons safely tucked away in.
    In the sunlight, the steel shines bright. He has knives of every shape and size. Filet knives, for cleaning fish. A butcher knife, a paring knife, a long serrated blade. One that is double-edged. And his dagger.
    â€œIt’s all in the wrist,” my father says. He picks up a black knife, one of the weighted ones, and flicks his wrist, lightning quick. The blade flies from his fingertips and lands right in the center of the X he’s painted on the side of the cabin.
    A perfect bull’s-eye.
    Peri claps and giggles. “I wanna frow one!” She reaches for the pile of weapons.
    â€œ No ,” my father, Koi and I say at once.
    â€œBastards.” She sticks out her tongue and turns back to her doll. I throw Koi a glare. She must have learned that word from him. He simply shrugs and throws a knife right into the center of the target.
    We spend all morning practicing. My father shows me how to position my arm just right, hold the blade in my fingertips, and throw it without the sharp edge slicing my skin. We work until midday, when the sun is blazing down on our backs and I’m dizzy from the heat.
    My aim is terrible. I never hit the center of the target, and when I get close, but not close enough, my father makes me spar with Koi until there’s blood and sweat dripping into my eyes.
    â€œAgain,” my father says. “You could have defended yourself from the Pirates with a single blade, had you been able throw one correctly. But you failed.”
    â€œIt won’t happen again,” I say.
    â€œIt will, because you’re too stubborn to listen to me and do it correctly.”
    â€œIf you’d stop being so harsh and just be patient, I might want to do it right!”
    â€œStop fighting!” Koi gets in between us, pushes us apart. “Meadow, do what he says. Please. I’m begging you.”
    Just then, there is a bump against the side of the boat. My mother appears, climbing up the ladder. Her eyes are tired, deep purple and blue circles beneath them. She drops a small bag of rations onto the deck. “We’ll eat tonight,” she says. She looks at me, at my father and Koi, then at the roll of knives. “I remember when I learned how to throw. How is she doing?”
    My father puts his hand on her arm. She flinches. He backs away, sighing. “Not good