34

The idea for daily lessons were a topic of contention when you were younger, with many of the adults believing that their pups should be trained in more practical hands-on disciplines rather than theory such as mathematics, science, and law.

Eventually a compromise was agreed upon: the pups' days would begin with book learning and theory and end with training in more practical disciplines such as manufacturing, mechanics, construction, and engineering. As most of the pups began this practice late compared to their human counterparts, it was decided that these lessons would continue until the age of twenty-one, when the young adults would officially be classified as fully mature by the human military.

You walk into the hall, dismayed to find that the lesson has already begun. Thirteen of your classmates are already seated and scribbling notes on large pieces of scrap paper.

Tiva looks up at you, a frown on her face as Instructor Lonan stops midsentence and makes a show of his disappointed sigh. "Late to class, Klel? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had something better to do with your time."

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off.

"Honestly, I don't want to hear any excuses. Please just sit down and take notes. We're reviewing our algebra, focusing on the quadratic equation."

It could at least have been something interesting, you think to yourself, wishing desperately for distraction. You often find the topics of discussion interesting, but like most adolescents on the cusp of adulthood, you have frequently chafed at being bound to a desk for several hours a day, looking out the window and daydreaming about what it would be like to roam free through the refuge like you imagine the adults must be doing.

But after the previous day's events you're surprised to find yourself glad for the comfort of the classroom, the familiarity of the lessons, tests, and busywork.

As comforting as the routine is, you soon find yourself drifting, mind preoccupied. A startling jolt rocks you from your miasma of worry and doubt, and your eyes blink back into focus, traveling from the ruler slapped onto your desk, slowly up the arm attached to it, and into the eyes of Instructor Lonan.

"So, what's on your mind, Klel, that requires such depth of thought, such focused introspection that you can sit here for over thirty minutes without taking down a single note?"

Thirty minutes? I feel like I just got here!

Lonan looks down his nose at you, awaiting a response.