With the sun firmly down and card games satisfactorily completed, the students went to their next classes. The boys had lessons in mechanics and machinations with Professors Shrimpdittle and Lefoux. The girls, all forty-five of them, trooped down to a lower deck to disembark using the glass platform lift. They had their weekly lesson with Captain Niall. There was a palpable waft of excitement, not to mention perfume, as the werewolf was most every young lady’s favorite teacher. He was also, by far, the handsomest.
Sophronia liked him, too, even though she knew the floppy, easygoing military man was a sham. In his werewolf guise, he’d tried to kill her and got her best horsehair petticoat instead. He’d been moon-mad at the time, but she’d never quite forgiven the lapse, nor the loss of the petticoat. Like a proper gentleman, the good captain had never made any mention of the undergarment murder.
The girls stood on the moor. The glass lift turned into a gaslight for evening fighting lessons. Captain Niall strode toward them—a dashing soldier with a beaver-skin top hat tied to his head and a leather greatcoat buttoned from collar to hem. He had a loose way of walking as if he had temporary, and not very good, control over someone else’s legs.
“Ladies, today we leave off knife fighting and move on to the most useful of all skills.” The werewolf paused dramatically. The young ladies about him inhaled in anticipation.
“Running away,” said Captain Niall with a flourish.
The faces about him were crestfallen; running away was hardly a romantic pursuit. Except when one was running to Gretna Green.
“Now, there are many ways and means to run. Today we will cover escape within a confined area—the fine art of dodging.”
He divided them into groups, naming some rabbits and others wolves. The wolves were each given a short wooden spoon that had been dipped in red gooseberry jelly. They had to tap the bodice of a rabbit to eliminate her from the game. This added incentive for the rabbits to dodge, given their dresses were about to be covered in jelly. Wolves could only chase assigned rabbits, and rabbits could not work together. Apart from that, they were free to be as creative as they liked.
Sophronia, Sidheag, and Preshea were the rabbits to Monique, Dimity, and Agatha’s wolves. Sophronia was pleased with this arrangement. She was good at running away and saw nothing morally reprehensible in it. She promptly scampered off to a nearby copse and climbed a tree to watch the proceedings.
A game of chaotic tag commenced, with the werewolf teacher moving so quickly among the students he was difficult to see. He yelled instructions and called out rabbits as dead. It soon became clear why Captain Niall had chosen this particular hill. It was littered with obstacles—shrubs, long grasses, the copse of trees, and an occasional boulder.
The game went on for some half an hour until all the rabbits had died and only Sophronia was left. When she was finally found, the wolves refused on principle to climb after her.
“Rabbits can’t climb trees,” objected Monique.
Captain Niall ignored this and gestured Sophronia down. “Ladies, what did Miss Temminnick do correctly?”
“There she goes again,” sniffed Preshea.
Everyone was silent.
Sophronia jumped down. Monique instantly whacked her with her spoon. A great gob of gooseberry stained the front of Sophronia’s dress, and her collarbone stung.
“Ouch,” she objected.
Finally, one of the older girls answered Captain Niall. “She hid?”