Chapter Eleven: Training
Days passed, but the tribe did not soften.
Recovery did not mean rest. Not here.
The clearing where the wolves had bled was quiet now, ash scattered thin and cold, but the tension remained threaded through every movement. Patrols doubled. Riders slept in shifts. Wolves lingered closer to the inner ring, their massive forms never fully still.
The land remembered violence.
So did Liam.
His wounds healed faster than any ordinary human's would have. The curse that had stolen voices and forms also rewove flesh with relentless efficiency. Bruising faded. Torn muscle knitted. Pain dulled into something distant, manageable.
But healing did not mean whole.
He rose before dawn on the sixth day.
Ava was already awake.
She waited at the edge of the inner boundary, wrapped in a dark cloak, posture straight despite the early chill. She did not speak when he approached. She did not ask if he was ready.
She already knew the answer.
"Follow," Liam said.
They left the tribe without announcement.
The forest accepted them quietly.
Liam chose terrain that punished mistakes uneven ground, roots hidden beneath leaf rot, shallow dips masked by shadow. This was not accidental. A fighter trained on flat ground died the first time the land betrayed them.
"Stand there," he ordered, pointing.
Ava obeyed.
"Feet apart. Wider."
She adjusted.
"Too wide," Liam corrected. He stepped forward and nudged her ankle with his boot. "You don't root yourself. You balance."
She fixed it.
"Hands up."
She raised them.
"No," he said. "Not like that."
He reached out and pushed her wrists down, then repositioned them himself one forward, one closer to her body.
"You're not guarding your face," he explained. "You're guarding your center. Your head follows."
Ava swallowed and nodded.
Liam stepped back.
"Do not strike unless I tell you to," he said.
She tensed.
"Do not move unless I move," he added.
Her breathing slowed.
Liam shifted his weight.
Ava reacted.
He was on her instantly.
He caught her forearm, twisted, and drove his shoulder into her chest, sending her backward. She hit the ground hard, breath tearing from her lungs.
Liam stood over her.
"You anticipated," he said calmly.
Ava pushed herself up, teeth clenched. "You shifted."
"I always will," Liam replied. "Your job is not to guess. It's to read."
She nodded again, more sharply this time.
They reset.
This time, Liam circled.
He moved slowly, deliberately, forcing Ava to track him without chasing. Her muscles burned from restraint more than effort. Every instinct screamed to act.
He waited until that tension peaked.
Then he struck.
Ava barely saw it. One moment he was three steps away, the next his hand closed around the back of her neck, forcing her down. Her knees hit the ground. His weight followed, controlled but absolute.
Pinned.
She tried to twist free.
He tightened his grip.
"Stop," he said.
She froze.
"Feel where you failed," Liam instructed. "Not the strength. The timing."
He released her and stepped away.
Ava stayed kneeling, chest heaving.
"You're fast," Liam said. "That's a problem."
She looked up at him, confused.
"Fast people rush," he continued. "You don't have the mass to make mistakes."
That stung more than the fall.
They trained until her limbs shook.
Every attempt Ava made ended the same way redirected, restrained, neutralized. Liam never struck to hurt. He struck to dominate space. To show inevitability.
When she finally collapsed to one knee, sweat dampening her hairline, Liam did not stop her.
He crouched in front of her instead.
"You're learning," he said. "But learning hurts."
Ava lifted her chin. "I can take it."
"I know," Liam replied. "That's why this will be worse tomorrow."
He stood up streched out his hand for her to grab lifted her up then they both turned back toward the tribe.
Behind them, the forest closed in, swallowing the marks of the lesson.
They did not speak on the walk back.
Ava's legs trembled with every step, not from weakness but from restraint. The instinct to collapse fought with the discipline Liam had already begun carving into her bones. She kept moving because he had told her to. Because stopping would mean admitting something she wasn't ready to name.
The tribe came into view through the trees low fires, shifting silhouettes, the quiet presence of wolves keeping watch. No one called out. No one questioned why Liam and Ava returned marked with sweat and silence instead of words.
Charlotte noticed, of course. She always did. Her gaze lingered on Ava's posture, on the way she carried her shoulders differently now lower, steadier. But she said nothing.
Neither did Amelia.
The great grey wolf lifted her head as Ava passed, eyes sharp and knowing. Not proud. Not worried.
Assessing.
Ava felt that look settle into her spine like a weight she did not shrug off.
That night, sleep came in fragments.
Every time Ava closed her eyes, she felt Liam's grip again precise, unavoidable. Not cruel. Never cruel. But final in a way that stripped illusion away. She dreamed of moving too early, of roots catching her foot, of ground rushing up to meet her face.
She woke before dawn with her jaw clenched and her hands curled into fists.
Liam was already waiting.
This time, he took her farther.
They moved beyond the familiar patrol paths, past the subtle markers that warned others not to wander. The forest thickened, shadows stretching long and uneven as light filtered weakly through the canopy. This land was older, less forgiving. The ground sloped unpredictably, stones slick with moss hidden beneath leaf cover.
"This is where you die if you hesitate," Liam said as they stopped.
Ava didn't ask how he knew.
"Balance," he ordered. "Now."
She set her stance, slower this time. Thoughtful.
Liam nodded once.
He attacked without warning.
Ava reacted but not fast enough.
He hooked her wrist, stepped inside her guard, and drove his elbow toward her collarbone, stopping just short of impact. She twisted away instinctively, but he was already there, sweeping her leg out from under her.
She hit the ground hard again.
"This isn't sparring," Liam said. "This is survival."
She rolled to her feet faster this time.
Again.
Again.
Each time she adapted, he changed.
When she focused on his hands, he closed distance with his shoulder. When she guarded her legs, he struck high. When she tried to retreat, he cut off her escape with footwork that turned the forest itself into a cage.
"You keep thinking you need to win," Liam said as he forced her back against a tree, forearm pressing into her throat not enough to choke, just enough to remind her of reality.
"I don't," Ava rasped.
"You do," he replied calmly. "Because you think surviving means overpowering."
He stepped back, releasing her.
"Surviving means lasting."
Ava sucked in air, nodding once.
They reset.
This time, Liam slowed deliberately.
He circled her like a predator who had already decided the outcome. Ava forced herself not to react. Not to flinch. She tracked him with her eyes, not her body.
Seconds stretched.
Then Liam moved.
She waited.
When he reached for her, she didn't strike. She shifted just enough to redirect his grip, just enough to stay standing.
For half a heartbeat, Liam's brows lifted.
Then he took her down anyway.
He caught her momentum and used it, twisting her sideways and forcing her to the ground with controlled precision. His knee pinned her thigh. His weight settled through his center, unyielding.
Ava struggled briefly.
"Stop," he said.
She did.
"Better," Liam admitted. "Still not enough."
He helped her up this time, firm grip on her forearm, hauling her to her feet without ceremony.
They trained until her vision blurred at the edges.
Until her arms felt like they belonged to someone else.
Until frustration burned hot and useless in her chest.
At one point, Ava lashed out in anger fast, sharp, undisciplined.
Liam caught her wrist mid-strike and twisted, forcing her to her knees again.
"That will get you killed," he said sharply. "Anger makes noise. Noise attracts teeth."
Ava bowed her head, breath shaking.
"I'm trying," she said, voice raw.
"I know," Liam replied. His tone softened but only slightly. "Trying isn't enough out there."
He gestured to the forest.
"The wolves don't care how hard you try. Neither do hunters. Neither will Korr."
That name landed like a stone dropped into water.
Ava looked up sharply. "You think he'll come back."
Liam didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"When?"
"Doesn't matter."
He stepped back, giving her space. "What matters is whether you're still breathing when he does."
That quieted something inside her.
They trained again.
Not harder.
Smarter.
Liam forced her to move blind closing her eyes, reacting to sound alone. He taught her how to fall without breaking, how to roll, how to give ground without surrendering control.
When she collapsed at last, fully spent, Liam did not scold her.
He crouched beside her.
"You heal fast," he said. "That's the blessing part."
Ava laughed weakly. "And the curse?"
He met her gaze. "You'll be expected to endure more than anyone else."
She nodded. "I already am."
Liam stood and offered his hand.
She took it.
As they walked back, Ava realized something unsettling.
She wasn't afraid anymore.
Not of him.
Not of the forest.
Not even of what waited beyond the borders.
What frightened her was how right this felt.
As if her body had been waiting for permission to become something sharper.
Above them, watching bodly, the moon shines brighly from up above creating shadows between the forest below.