Chapter 8: Training Yard

Shadowfang trained in the packed-dirt yard behind the lodge, every morning at six.

On my fifth day, Ansel's Beta asked if I wanted to try a round.

She was a lean, scarred woman who had never once smiled at me, and she asked it in front of forty wolves.

"I haven't fought since I was a pup," I said.

"Then you won't mind losing."

I stepped into the ring.

I had no plan except to keep my feet under me.

She came in fast and low, and my body moved before I told it to.

I turned my hip and caught her forearm, and I used her own weight to put her face down in the dirt.

She tried to roll.

I put a knee between her shoulder blades and held her there without trying very hard.

The yard went still.

"Yield," I said, because I'd heard it somewhere.

"Yield," the Beta gasped, spitting dust.

I let her up.

She stood with her hands on her knees, and then she looked at me, and for the first time, she did smile.

"Again tomorrow," she said.

A low voice spoke from the edge of the ring.

"Me next."

Ansel had come out in a plain grey shirt with the sleeves pushed up.

Forty wolves made a path for him.

"Alpha, she's been on her feet two hours," the Beta said.

"I'll be gentle."

"No," I said. "Don't be."

His eyes met mine, and something in them lit.

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