Tor only had time for a few moments' rest before a swarm of younger dwin gathered around him, fussing and preening him as they dragged him towards the central circle.

"Tor, I'm so jealous!" El, a bull with just the faintest hint of hair on his upper lip, whined.

"My Gate Day is so far away!" Petra, a cow only a few weeks out of the calving barn, pulled Tor towards the circle with all her tiny might.

Tor pretended to resist their youthful exuberance, but couldn't help getting swept up by their infectious energy. It hadn't been that long ago he was the dwindling buzzing around the ankles of the lucky Gate Day greenhorns.

Now it was Tor's turn to be celebrated. His time to be missed, to wonder what lay beyond the gate, and to see what actually went on up there without having to guess any more.

Tor had been waiting his whole life for this evening. The kids dragged him over the hay bales piled around the circle and made him sit down. The spiky ends of the dried hay poked the back of his legs, but he hardly noticed. Two more bulls and a cow settled in around him in the circle.

"Hi, Tor!"

"Tor!"

The cow squeezed Tor's hand. "Happy Gate Day, Tor."

Tor couldn't remember a time he hadn't known this cow. They left the calving barn on the same day. Her fingers wrapped around his hand sent a tingle down his spine.

"Hi Merryn," Tor said. "I hope you have a good Gate Day tomorrow!"

"Thanks, Tor!" Merryn said.

Merryn held Tor's gaze for a few breaths, and a lifetime of unlived memories flooded his mind. Would they see each other ever again after Gate Day? He didn't know what would happen after the ceremony, where he would go, or what lay beyond the gate. The only certainty he had was his life would never be the same.

"I'm nervous." Her hands trembled–or was that him shuddering?

"Me too." Tor hadn't even admitted it to himself. "I'm scared."

"Of what?" Merryn leaned closer. She still had food pellets in her hair.

"Every day is the same," Tor said. "Now it won't be."

"It'll be okay, Tor." Merryn kissed his cheek. A jolt of electricity shot from the top of Tor's head to the tips of his toes.

Before Tor could say anything else, a younger bull, Kal, hopped to the centre of the circle and cleared her throat. The paddock fell silent, all eyes were on the bull.

"Hello." Kal had a slow, powerful voice. He would probably take Tor's place at the mill. "Tomorrow is Gate Day for Merryn, Ben, Stonks, and Tor. Have a good Gate Day."

Gate Day Eve speeches were never more than that. They didn't need to be. Tor loved hearing it spoken with his name in it for the first and last time in his life. He hadn't noticed how simple the speech was until he'd started reading with Corvus.

The other greenhorns jumped to their feet and shared a hug. Tor watched them, thinking about everything that had led up to this moment – every conversation, day of work, shared look with Merryn. As the party got rolling, Tor slowly backed away, ducking around a corner to keep the reading date with Corvus.

Corvus' stall was in the back of the paddock, tucked behind the fledgling stalls so she could keep an eye on them as they got used to life out of the calving bay.

He poked his head around the stall wall. Corvus had her head buried in a book her eyes racing back and forth across the page. Tor wondered if he'd ever read that well.

"Hello, Corvus," Tor said.

Corvus held up one finger. "Be right with you. Almost. There, done."

She folded a corner of the page down and tucked the book down beside her cot.

"Why did you fold it?" Tor asked. "Won't it be wrecked?"

"No, it's fine," Corvus scoffed. She hopped up and opened the gate to her stall. "Helps me save my page."

Tor sidled into the stall and stood awkwardly in the corner. He'd been coming to the reading lessons for months now, but still didn't know where to go or how to handle himself at the beginning.

"Don't just stand there like a lump," Corvus scolded. "Sit down, this is important."

Tor squatted at the edge of Corvus's bed and made himself as small as possible. It wasn't forbidden by the guards for dwin to go into each others' stalls, but it was still the only place they were ever allowed to just be alone for a short while every night. He felt like he might be intruding.

"Stop being so weird, you big bloody bull." Corvus laughed. "Don't make me regret picking you."

"Picking me?" Tor asked. "What did you pick me for?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, kid," Corvus said. "It'd blow your tiny mind and leave nothing left for Gate Day. Can't have that."

"No," Tor said. "I have to do Gate Day."

"I know you do, Tor." Corvus patted his hand. "But I want you to be the last one."

Tor shook his head. "No, I can't be the last one. All the calves, the fledglings – they have to have their Gate Days, too."

Corvus's face darkened, and she looked like she wanted to say something, something that burned in her mind like a hot ember rattled around in her skull.

"Just read with me a minute, will you?" Corvus asked. "We're going to learn a new word today."

Corvus reached under her bed and pulled out the book, mouldy around the edges and well-enjoyed by readers throughout the ages.

"What do you see?" Corvus held the book out in front of her, sweeping a hand across the page to draw Tor's attention.

Tor studied the book. A calf with a smile bigger than the paddock beamed back at him, surrounded on all sides by colourful shapes and letters written beside each one. One sign that looked like a circle with broken pieces had four white letters vivid on a red background.

"S-T-O-P," Tor read. He couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"Look who's smiling about reading some letters," Corvus scoffed. "How long have we been doing these lessons, Tor?"

Tor shrugged. "Long time?"

"Yeah, really long time," Corvus said. "Long enough that you firing off some letter names shouldn't be celebrated with a shit-eating grin."

Tor's face fell.

"I'm not trying to be mean, here, Tor, but I need you to dig deep and read your ass off tonight," Corvus said. "Your Gate Day's put a real damper on my full-on plan, so I've had to up the rollout of what I want to do. This is it. Tor, what does S-T-O-P spell?"

This was the point Tor always struggled with. He knew the letters made words when they were smashed together, but sometimes he didn't trust what he was seeing.

"Put 'em together, Tor," Corvus urged. "You can do it. You've done this word before. Everything hinges on you getting this. Don't let me down."

Tor couldn't imagine much worse than letting Corvus down. She had become almost a mother to him over the last couple of years. He couldn't remember his real mother, she had her Gate Day when Tor was still a calf, and to meet the Great Sire of all dwin was an honour only the guards and work bosses shared. Coruvs was the closest thing Tor had to a guiding light in Macellum.

"Ssss...ssst...sssstawwwww...ssstaawww..." Tor focussed on each letter, remember everything he'd learned over his reading lessons.

"That's it..." Corvus leaned over the book, willing Tor to get through the word. "I can't do it for you. You can't repeat after me. This time, you have to do it yourself."

Tor took a deep breath. The upside-down 'b' always gave him trouble. He wanted to say 'buh.' He knew that was wrong, but the sound wouldn't come into his head.

"Just say it out loud, Tor," Corvus said. "Don't worry about thinking. Just say it. It'll come. Just say the word."

"Ssssstaawww...b...no," Tor sighed, and bowed his head. "I can't do it, Corvus!"

"Don't give me that shit!" Corvus snapped. "I haven't put all these hours and days into you quitting on me when it's the most important!"

Tor stood up, knocking the book to the floor. "I'm sorry!" He felt too big for the stall. "I can't do it!"

Corvus stared at him for a minute, then cackled. "You can't do what?"

"P!" Tor brayed. "The letter P is too hard!"

"Tor!" Corvus cheered. "Just listen to yourself!"

"What?" Tor did not know what she was talking about. "I can't do P! P is too hard! P...P...oh."

Tor sat back down and smiled. "Sorry, Corvus."

"Don't apologize, you big dumb dwin," Corvus scolded. "Just read the damn word and we'll move on."

Tor cleared his throat and tried one more time to read 'STOP.' He wanted it to be simple, and it was proving to be far more of a challenge than he'd anticipated.

"Ssss...ssst...ssstawww...sstaawwwww...p."

Tor froze, not wanting to jinx anything by celebrating his reading victory. He stared down at the word, waiting for Corvus to tell him to do it 'AGAIN!'

"Again," Corvus urged, but with no anger or impatience in her voice. "Read it again, Tor, but smooth it out — one more time."

Tor willed the word to work with him and cooperate. It showed no sign of having heard his pleas.

"S...t...aaawww...p," Tor whispered, so quiet Corvus had to lean in to hear him.

"Blend it now, Tor." Corvus put a hand on Tor's shoulder. "Squeeze the meaning out of that word. Those sounds mean nothing on their own, but blended together, they can change the world."

"S...T...O...P..." Tor nodded as the word finally revealed itself to him. "STOP. The word is stop."

Corvus beamed at him, her eyes welling up with tears. "That's it, you goose. You got it. Stop. You just read 'stop.' That's amazing. What does stop mean?"

Tor furrowed his brow. He knew this one. "Don't go anymore."

"Don't go anymore," Corvus repeated. "Yeah, that about covers it. You up for one more?"

Tor knew it was getting late, and he wanted to be rested up for Gate Day. Still, he would miss his reading time with Corvus.

"Yes," Tor said. "One more is fine."

"Yes!" Corvus clapped and grabbed the book from Tor. She flipped to the last page and thrust it back into his hands.

"There," she said, jabbing a finger at a rectangular sign above a door on the page. "This is the most important word of all. If you learn this word, we will finally have a chance."

"A chance for what?" Tor asked. "You make it sound like something bad is going to happen."

Corvus's face darkened again, and she held Tor's gaze for a long, long time. Tor watched a thousand thoughts flash behind his eyes.

"Dearest Tor, I don't want to say too much. You won't believe me. It's just too horrible. It makes Gate Day as awful a thing as anything humans have ever done to each other."

"Humans?" Tor let the word roll around his tongue. "What are humans?"

"We are, Tor," Corvus said.

"No, we're dwin," Tor protested. "I'm a dwin bull."

"Oh, Tor, you are so much more than that," Corvus said. "We all are, and you are the last chance we have to change any of it. I can't prepare you for what you're going to see tomorrow, but I can get you ready for the next step."

"Next step?" Tor laughed. "Gate Day is the biggest day in any dwin's life! You're just upset you never got yours!"

Corvus gave Tor a sad smile. "I can't tell you how wrong you are, Tor. I know you've been excited about Gate Day your whole life, and I'm happy for you. It will change your life, just not in the way you think it will."

Tor couldn't believe what he was hearing. Corvus had always been someone to trust, someone he looked up to. Now, here she was, telling him everything he'd been looking forward to, the moment in his life that mattered more than anything else in his world – was all bullshit.

"Corvus, you can't – "

"Let's forget all of that tonight. Tomorrow's going to come, no matter how much talking we do tonight to try to change it or go back. Just focus on this word, here and now, and let tomorrow happen however it may," Corvus tapped on the rectangle on the page, the red letters popping out from the grey.

"E...eeegggsss...eggzzziii...ttt..." Tor stumbled over the letters. He knew the two lines crossed over each other was an 'x,' but never knew quite how to say it.

"Almost, Tor, almost." Corvus had a maniacal focus in her eyes. "Squeeze it."

"E...eeggzzz...eggzzziiit...eggzitt...exit." Tor breathed a sigh of relief. "That word is exit."

Corvus buried her face in her hands. "And what does it mean?"

"Exit...exit," Tor searched the back of his brain for 'exit.' "Get out...exit means get out. Or, how to get out. I think."

Corvus lifted her head, her face drenched with tears. "How to get out, my Tor. That's it. You take that with you tomorrow and you could change everything. Will you remember this word?"

Tor nodded. "Always."

"No matter how much trouble you're in?"

Tor shook his head. "No matter how much."

"Good." Corvus patted Tor's arm and lay down in her bed. "Go to bed, Tor. Tomorrow's a big one."

Tor stood up and shuffled to the stall gate. He took a long look at Corvus, who was already snoring by the time he turned around.

"Goodbye, Corvus," Tor said. "I am now going to exit."