THE TAMER WHO REWROTE EVOLUTION

Chapter 3

Ethan lowered his eyes and looked at the moth. It looked back at him. "Hey," he said, very quietly. "It's okay. I've got you." The moth blinked. Then it crawled up his sleeve and settled against his collar, tucking its wings tight, as if it wanted to hide.

Ethan understood that feeling perfectly. "Wick," he whispered. "What did you say?" the Dean asked. "Nothing. I was just... naming him." "Wick?" "Because he's small and he glows," Ethan said. "Like a candle wick." The Dean looked at him for a long moment. Something in her expression softened.

"That's a good name," she said. "Go sit down, Mr. Cole."

The rest of the ceremony felt like it happened underwater.

Ethan sat in his seat and stared at the floor. Wick stayed hidden under his collar, warm against his neck. Darius leaned over and nudged him. "Hey. You okay?" "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Your hands are shaking."

"They always shake." "Ethan." "I got the worst beast in the whole world, Darius. And the stone gave me a rank that doesn't even exist." He tried to laugh and failed. "What am I supposed to say?"

Darius opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. His smile looked a little stiff. "It's just a moth," he finally said. "Maybe it'll be useful. Moths are... good at finding light."

"That doesn't even make sense." "I know. I'm trying."

"Thanks for trying."

Darius glanced at his own Ironhide Boar sitting proudly at his feet, then looked away fast, as if the comparison made him uncomfortable. When the ceremony ended, students poured out of the Great Hall in noisy groups. Most of them avoided Ethan, but not all.

"Hey, F-Null!" someone yelled. Ethan kept walking.

"Hey! Is your moth going to defend you? Or is it going to need defending?" More laughter. Then a cold voice cut through it. "Move." The crowd parted like magic.

Sera Linden walked past with her Frost Wolf beside her. She didn't look at the students who had been laughing. She looked straight at Ethan. Her pale eyes dropped to his collar, where the moth's antennae peeked out. "That's your beast?" she asked.

Ethan straightened. "Yes." "It's small." "I know." "It's also not afraid of my wolf." Ethan blinked. He looked down.

Wick had crawled up onto his shoulder. The tiny moth was staring at the huge white wolf, wings flared, standing its ground like a tiny soldier.

The Frost Wolf tilted its head. "Interesting," Sera said.

"What is?" "Most beasts that size would hide. Yours is... staring." She turned away. "Don't get too comfortable, Cole. The Academy doesn't have patience for people who can't keep up."

"Wait," Ethan said. "How do you know my name?" She looked over her shoulder. "Everyone does now." Then she was gone. The Remedial Wing was at the far end of campus, behind the greenhouses and the old training grounds.

It was a long, low building with peeling gray paint and a crooked sign that read KENNELS AND SUPPORT SERVICES. The air inside smelled like wet straw and old cleaning soap.

"Last stop," said the clerk who had walked Ethan there. She handed him a bucket and a stiff brush. "Your assignments are posted on the wall. Mornings, you clean the kennels. Afternoons, you carry feed. Evenings, you help the groundskeepers." "All of it?" "All of it." "But what about classes?"

"You'll attend Remedial Basics at night." She sniffed. "If you're not too tired." She left him alone in the hallway, holding the bucket. Ethan looked at it. Then he looked at the brush. Then he looked at Wick, who had fluttered onto the bucket's rim and was staring into it with great interest.

"Don't worry," Ethan said. "It's not for you." Wick tilted his head. "Okay, maybe a little for you."

He laughed, and it came out shaky. The sound echoed in the empty hallway. "Well," he said. "At least the beasts here won't laugh at us." A loud bark echoed from the nearest kennel. "Okay, they might laugh a little."

The first kennel held a skinny gray dog with a missing ear.

Ethan opened the gate slowly and crouched down. The dog growled at him. "I know," he said gently. "You don't like strangers. That's okay." The growl got louder. "You're limping on your back left leg. Did someone hurt it?" He leaned closer, studying the dog's shoulders. "No. You're holding your weight wrong because your front paw is sore. You're protecting it."

The growl stopped. Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a dried biscuit. "I saved this from breakfast. Want it?" The dog sniffed it. Then, very carefully, it took the biscuit from his fingers. "Good boy," Ethan whispered. "See? We're not so different." "Remarkable," said a voice behind him.

Ethan jumped and nearly dropped the bucket.

A man stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. He was tall and thick-armed, with gray stubble across his jaw and a long scar down one side of his neck. His coat was patched at the elbows, and he held a chipped mug of tea in one hand.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said quickly. "I didn't mean to take longer than I should. I'll get back to cleaning." "Relax, boy." The man took a slow sip. "Name's Professor Brandt. I teach Applied Beast Behavior. I was watching you." "Was I doing something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite." Brandt stepped closer and looked at the dog. "That's Gravel. He's bitten four handlers this year. Nobody could figure out why he was limping. You figured it out in about ten seconds."

Ethan shrugged. "It was just the way he was standing."

"Just the way he was standing," Brandt repeated, as if tasting the words. "Do you know how many tamers in this Academy would notice that?" "No, sir." "Almost none."

Ethan didn't know what to say, so he said, "Thank you?"

"Don't thank me. Thank your eyes." Brandt's gaze moved to the moth on Ethan's shoulder. "That the Cinder Moth?"

"Yes, sir. His name is Wick."

"Hm." The professor leaned in, his eyes narrowing. Wick stared back at him, unblinking. "Odd. Most Cinder Moths flutter nonstop. They're nervous things. This one hasn't moved a wing since I walked in." "Is that bad?" "I don't know yet." Brandt straightened. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Cole." "Why?"

"Because everyone else has already decided what you are," Brandt said. "And I've lived long enough to know that's usually when people are most wrong." He turned and walked out, his boots thumping on the wooden floor.

Ethan stood still for a long moment. "Did you hear that, Wick?" he whispered.

The moth flicked one antenna. That night, Ethan lay on a thin cot in the Remedial dormitory. The room smelled like dust and old blankets. Three other students slept in the beds around him, snoring. He stared at the ceiling. Wick sat on his chest, glowing faintly in the dark, like a tiny coal.

"I got you, didn't I?" Ethan said softly. "Out of everything in the world, I got you." Wick blinked.

"I'm not saying it's bad. I'm just saying... I don't know what to do with you." He swallowed. "My dad would have known. He always knew what to do with beasts. Everyone said he was the best tamer in the city. And then he just... disappeared."

The moth crawled closer, curling up against the hollow of his throat. "They say he ran," Ethan whispered. "They say he was afraid. But I don't believe that. I never believed it."

Outside the window, wind rattled the old shutters. "I'm going to find out the truth," he said. "I promise. Even if I have to do it with a moth."

Wick's wings twitched, as if the moth understood. Ethan closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard it.

It came from somewhere far away, from across the campus, from the Great Hall. A low, deep sound that he felt more than heard. A hum.

The same hum the Resonance Stone had made when he touched it. But the Great Hall had been locked for the night. The ceremony was over. Every student had gone home. Ethan's eyes snapped open. Wick had risen into the air, hovering above his chest, its tiny body trembling. Its antennae pointed toward the window, toward the dark shape of the Great Hall in the distance.

And through the glass, Ethan saw a thin gray light flicker once inside the tall, narrow windows of the hall. Then again. Then again, faster, like a heartbeat answering his own.