Isaac nodded and followed her out.
The morning air was cool, and the sky was faintly gray. They crossed the narrow corridor that led to the backyard, where a few old training dummies stood waiting.
The yard was empty, except for a tall woman standing at the front.
Their Mother.
She wore her usual long white coat, her hair tied back neatly. She looked calm, but her eyes missed nothing.
"Everyone, line up," she said.
Catherine stood straight beside Isaac. The others joined, one by one, until the line was full.
"Today," Mother began, "we will review survival methods and close combat. Remember, this is not just training. Out there, a small mistake means death."
She demonstrated movements — blocking, stepping, turning — and the children copied her, their bare feet thudding softly against the dirt.
Isaac tried to keep up, his body small but quick. He focused on the way her hands moved, the way her weight shifted before each strike.
