footsteps disappears then hurry back to Flot.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Ungh, just leave me alone, Sam."
"Do you want me to get back at them?"
"No. I don't want you fighting my battles for me. I'll be fine. Go away."
"But Flot... "
"JUST GO!"
Flot yelling in my face startles me, and I back up. I can see in his eyes a deep anger, but I don't know if it's anger at me for trying to help, or if it's anger at Sickle and Scythe for torturing him. He could even be angry at himself. I felt the same way growing up. I hated that I let Sickle and Scythe bully me. There wasn't much I could do, being so small. The few times I did fight back, things were much worse for me. They would hit me even harder, or stomp on me with their feet. And no one ever came to help. I think that was the hardest part; not having someone to protect me, or to patch my wounds.
I feel anger building inside. Not just for Sickle and Scythe being evil, but for failing Flot. He is going through what I went through; what I tried to spare him from. I just hope he knows that he's not alone.
I nod at him, and walk back to our room.
14
When I get back to our room, Jet isn't there, but Mast is waiting inside for me. I start to worry, because I'm surprised Mast would come into our room without being invited. Something serious must have brought him here.
I notice that he's not wearing his armor. I'm not used to seeing him in normal clothes. I don't look at a lot of people. I feel like if I don't notice others, then they won't notice me. It's helped me stay alive. So even if I had passed by him in the tunnels, I wouldn't have noticed what he looked like.
He has a beard, though not very long, and it has patches of white in it. He is not a gray one yet, but it probably won't be many snows before he looks like one. His eyes are serious, like he has lived a long and dangerous life, and there is little happiness in them.
Mast's hair is dark brown, like the color of dirt when it rains. His skin is colored red where the sun has done its work. He wears his long hair tied back to keep it out of his face. His body looks like a tree stump, very sturdy and strong, and his arms look like he could move the largest rock in the Crag. I am glad that Chaff is my enemy, and not Mast.
"Do you have need of me, Mast?" I ask.
"No, I bring you news. Before you are truly the Leader of the Hunt, you must face the trials. Then, and only then will you be allowed to lead," says Mast.
"Mast, I don't want to lead," I say.
"That makes no difference. You will start tomorrow at sunrise. Be prepared for anything."
Mast walks past me, but I stop him.
"Wait, are the trials dangerous? Could I die?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Then I'm not doing them."
"I am sorry Sam, but you have no choice."
"You always have a choice," I say.
"Then you must choose either to go through the trials, or we will kill you, and someone will take your place," says Mast.
"So I can't make someone else the Leader of the Hunt?"
"No."
"Fine then. Kill me," I say.
Mast stares at me in disbelief.
"I didn't want this," I say. "Why should I bother when I will probably die anyway?"
"Think of Jet and Flot. What will they do without you? Think of the Crag, and of the hunters. We need a leader like you. I know you don't really want to die. It's why you've worked so hard to survive. Why you took control when Lagan froze," says Mast.
"Did Lagan and Hammer have to go through the trials?" I ask.
"Yes, but it is different for everyone. What you will face will be meant for you alone."
"How many people have died in the trials?"
"Many," says Mast. "Many more than have succeeded."
I think to myself for a moment.
"Fine, I will do your trials. But once I am leader, I will change the rules so that no one has to suffer to become leader ever again," I say.
"You miss the point of why the rule exists. It was put into place so that only someone brave, and strong, and smart would lead the hunters. It also keeps people from wanting to kill