Maisie
"Quiet!" Warren snapped, stepping into the middle of the yard.
Where a fighting ring had formerly been weeks ago, there was a raised platform holding racks after racks of weaponry, and my lips parted in soft surprise as I took them in. Swords. Daggers. Rifles. Bows and arrows. Golden cords glinting with tiny sharp blades attached to them, resembling lassos.
"Oh my god, are those... real?" someone asked at the back.
"Sweet!" some guy exclaimed.
"Great. More incentive for violence," Jenny grumbled, though, a hint of curiousity laced her words.
A swell of excitement rose in the air, and I felt it rise inside me too, as Warren blew his whistle, calling for order. Behind him, the new fourth years were holding up sheets of papers, winding between the rows to pass them around.
