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“You alright?” I whispered, squeezing her arm.
She nodded. “Fine. It was just… so close.”
I chewed on my lip. “I know.”
Once again, I wasn’t sure what the point of all this was. How likely was it that we’d face a random, magically-enlarged arthropod ever again in our lives? I should be with Coen right now, not standing here with my hands sweating, my knife sheath burning against my thigh as if I were about to face a monster from Hallow’s Perch again.
“Mr. Dunn,” said Ms. Pincette, not without a trace of gentleness.
Chest heaving, Gileon stepped toward the front of the class. I held my breath as Ms. Pincette brought out one of the last centipedes and set it on the ground.
As soon as Mr. Flinch narrowed his eyes at it, the centipede swelled. Gileon trembled, but this particular one seemed to have smaller legs and forcipules than the others, its segmented body slightly pale in comparison. Was it younger? I hoped so, for Gil’s sake.
“Food,” the centipede hissed, its antennae twitching toward Gileon.
“No, no, not me.” His voice was surprisingly loud and clear, even though his legs still trembled. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “But I saw a tree fall the other day. Plenty of food under there, and now you’re big and strong enough to roll it!”
The centipede actually seemed to consider this, posterior end curling.
“What kind of food?”
Gileon glanced uncertainly at Ms. Pincette, who nodded. “Frogs and lizards. Snakes and… and salamanders. A whole feast, if you want.”
Several seconds passed, in which everyone, even Mr. Flinch, seemed to hold their breaths. Then the centipede’s legs clicked against cobblestone as it scuttled closer to Gileon, its mouth blooming wide open.
“Show me, then, human.”
Cheers exploded among us. Rodhi pumped a fist in the air, Emelle jumped up and down, and a beam spread across my face as Gileon moved forward to climb up one of the centipede’s arched legs. He kicked his own leg over until he was straddling one of its dorsal ridges, looking like a true Wild Whisperer through and through.
Ms. Pincette finally allowed herself to smile, but snapped at us almost immediately. “Out of the way! Let them through!”
We moved aside, and Gileon and his centipede were off. The ground quaked like it had three days ago as they scuttled up the stairs and around the corner of the nearest Shape Shifting building, toward the jungle and that supposed fallen tree.
“He did it!” Emelle squealed. “He actually did it!”
And nobody else deserved it more. I’d almost forgotten that I still had to face a monster of my own when Ms. Pincette said, “Okay, Ms. Drey. Your turn.”
Steeling myself, I dug my fingernails into my palms and stepped forward, feeling every eye on my back. Ms. Pincette brought out a final centipede, and I watched its winding path in the cracks between the cobblestone with my heart pounding.
Mr. Flinch narrowed his eyes at it.
It enlarged so fast that I stumbled backward. Clicking, pincer-like jaws loomed over me, clusters of eyes locking onto mine. A pair of antennae hovered overhead, a segmented, serpentine body twisting toward the back of the patio.
Just a centipede, and yet…
And yet…
Kitterfol Lexington’s worm opened its gaping, cavernous mouth to swallow me whole. A monster with grayish skin and scales and claws bore down upon me. Fire flickered in the corner of my vision, the air filling with suffocating smoke.
“Rayna!” Emelle shrieked from behind me.
I’d closed my eyes. Hadn’t even processed what the centipede had said to me.
When I opened them, it was regular-sized again, crawling along the seams of my shoes and shouting profanities at me in that faint, high-pitched voice.
“Class dismissed,” Ms. Pincette said, staring at me. “I want everyone to work on centipede relations before our next class.” She bent to pick up the now-empty tank of coco fiber. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Flinch.”
“Not a problem,” Lander’s instructor said with a wave of his hand.
