Chapter 47-Before the Ground

Odett’s POV

  Dad’s map lay beneath my Academy notes for three days. Joshy had written Choice across its blank side, dark enough to show through the paper. Whenever I opened the binder, I saw the word before any of the land we had not chosen.

  Lorilie approved of the order even if she objected to where I kept it. The corner had folded beneath two policy guides, our revised emergency-council section, and a collection of practice questions thick enough to injure someone. She believed future Alpha plans deserved better treatment.

  ‘The future Alpha needs to survive her assessment before she worries about the map,’ I reminded her with practical annoyance.

  ‘The assessment is paper. I have seen you defeat paper,’ Lorilie replied confidently.

  ‘You watched me lose an argument to a filing requirement yesterday,’ I corrected silently.

  ‘The filing requirement cheated,’ she insisted.

  Joshy waited at our usual library table with four founding codes opened around him. Dad had released only public laws and general council procedures, exactly as promised. No hybrid names, private reports, or land inspections appeared among the pages.

  “I found three different requirements for recognizing a new pack boundary,” Joshy reported.

  “Let me guess,” I replied while lowering my books. “All three councils insist theirs is the only correct version.”

  “Two insist that,” he explained.

“The third claims the rule depends on which species owns the neighboring territory.”

  The conflicting laws belonged in our proposal. A founding process could not promise equal treatment and then change its demands according to the species next door. We marked the problem without pretending a school assignment would rewrite the existing agreements.

  Nolan and Cassian arrived before we finished comparing the codes. Nolan carried food instead of notes, while Cassian had already reviewed the emergency-authority language from our last exercise. Neither knew that Dad had begun considering real land or that reports about other hybrids existed.

  “Please tell me we’re doing something that doesn’t involve closing a border,” Nolan said.

  “Boundary recognition,” Joshy answered without sympathy.

  “That is a border wearing a more expensive name,” Nolan complained with immediate disappointment.

  Cassian took the chair beside him and read our marked passages. He noticed that one code required approval from every neighboring Alpha, which could allow a single hostile pack to prevent a lawful territory from forming. Another required only notice, leaving established packs no formal way to challenge unsafe boundaries.

  “We need a review process that cannot become a private veto,” Cassian suggested.

  “And a time limit,” I added. “Silence should not delay recognition forever.”

  “Can the council reject the boundary?” Nolan asked as he finally opened his notebook. “Only for a documented conflict involving water, roads, existing claims, or public safety.”

  “Species and political dislike cannot count,” Joshy proposed thoughtfully.

  We spent the morning turning those principles into a process we could defend. The neighboring packs would receive notice, relevant maps, and time to identify specific conflicts. A neutral council would decide unresolved objections and publish the reason for its ruling.

  After Dad’s admission, each boundary rule brought a real stretch of land to mind. I kept that thought to myself. Nolan and Cassian were working on an Academy proposal, not helping me choose a place to live.

  Our instructor stopped beside the table during the assessment review period. She read the new boundary section, circled neutral twice, and returned the page without approval. Her expression warned that the word had created a larger problem than it solved.

  “Who appoints the neutral council?” she asked.

  “Representatives chosen from territories without a shared boundary or financial interest,” Cassian answered cautiously.

  “Chosen by whom?” she pressed with deliberate persistence.

  We looked at one another. A council chosen by only one side would hardly be neutral. Pretending selection did not matter would only hide whose influence shaped the ruling.

  “Each affected side selects one qualified representative, and those representatives jointly select a final member from an approved independent list,” I suggested with careful uncertainty.

  “What happens when they cannot agree?” the instructor challenged without hesitation.

  “The selection rotates through the approved list according to a published order,” Joshy answered after considering the problem.

  The instructor wrote defensible beside the paragraph and moved to the next table. Nolan stared at the single word as though it belonged inside a frame. I refused to tell him Joshy had already received that honor for his margins.

  Before dismissing us, the instructor posted the assessment schedule beside the classroom door. Written arguments would begin in twelve days, followed by the council hearing, records review, and practical leadership exercise. Combat assessments would be scored separately, which prevented one failed shield from destroying an entire term but gave us another list of requirements to carry.

  The posted dates made the assessment feel close. Passing would carry us into the third term with duties matched to our results. A failed section meant more training and another assessment, which was reassuring in theory and less so with the schedule in my hand.

  “Twelve days is not enough time,” Nolan declared with immediate despair.

  “Yesterday you said two weeks was too long to remain worried,” Cassian reminded him with dry patience.

  “I used those extra two days badly,” Nolan admitted without shame.

  Joshy copied the dates. I sorted our remaining work by subject and left the map beneath my notes. The pack could wait until I had done the training that was supposed to help me lead it.

  After lunch, our combat assessment focused on divided attention rather than force. One partner defended a marked civilian while another read changing instructions from the wall. The defender had to react to real threats without allowing every shouted direction to control the shield.

  I suspected Aunt Jess had told the instructor about my oversized shield. Neither woman admitted it, and the new drill gave me too much to think about to demand an answer. Revenge could wait until after the assessment.

  Joshy stood behind the wooden marker while Cassian read the first set of instructions. Nolan launched padded bolts from two marked lanes, alternating safe blue tips with dangerous red ones. I held a narrow shield in front of the marker and forced myself to identify the color before expanding it.

  “Left lane changes after the third strike,” Cassian warned.

  “The floor mark moved,” Joshy reported from behind me.