The courtyard was alive with tension as Alison wiped the sweat from her brow. The morning light was harsher now, the cool breeze from earlier replaced with a dry, suffocating heat. She adjusted her grip on the wooden staff, her fingers trembling slightly from the last round of sparring. Lyra had been relentless, her strikes calculated and punishing. Alison had managed to block a few, but most of them had landed, leaving bruises on her arms and pride.
"Again," Lyra said, her voice sharp.
Alison glared at her, but there was no time for words. Lyra lunged without warning, her staff slicing through the air with lethal precision. Alison barely managed to sidestep, the wooden weapon whistling past her ear. She struck out instinctively, her movements clumsy but fueled by raw determination. Her staff connected with Lyra's shoulder, the impact forcing the older woman to stumble back.
A murmur ran through the onlookers, their skepticism softening into something closer to interest. Lyra recovered quickly, her eyes narrowing as she assessed Alison with a newfound seriousness.
"Not bad," Lyra admitted, though her tone was still laced with condescension. "But not good enough."
Before Alison could catch her breath, Lyra struck again. This time, the force of the blow sent the staff flying from Alison's hands. She staggered backward, her footing unsteady as Lyra pressed forward, the tip of her staff stopping inches from Alison's chest.
"Yield," Lyra demanded.
Alison stared at her, chest heaving. Her pride screamed at her to resist, to refuse to give in. But her body was exhausted, her limbs heavy with fatigue. Slowly, she raised her hands in surrender.
"Good," Kane's voice rang out, breaking the silence. He stepped forward, his expression neutral but his tone carrying an undercurrent of approval. "That's enough for today."
Lyra lowered her staff, but not before giving Alison a pointed look. "You've got a lot to learn," she said. "But you've got potential."
Alison bit back a retort, too drained to argue. She bent down to pick up her staff, her hands still trembling.
"You'll need to work harder," Kane said as she straightened. "This was just the beginning."
"What's the point of all this?" Alison asked, her voice hoarse. "I'm not one of you. I don't need to learn how to fight."
Kane's gaze hardened. "You think the hunters will spare you because you're not a wolf? You're more of a target than any of us."
"I didn't ask to be a target," Alison snapped. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"None of us did," Kane replied, his tone cold. "But that doesn't change what's coming."
Alison glared at him, but before she could respond, one of the pack members approached. He was younger, with dark hair and sharp features, his expression unreadable.
"Kane," the man said, his voice low. "We've spotted movement near the perimeter. Hunters."
The word sent a ripple of unease through the courtyard. Kane's eyes narrowed, his body tensing. "How many?"
"Two, maybe three," the man replied. "They're keeping their distance, but they're close."
Kane nodded, his expression unreadable. "Double the patrols. If they get any closer, alert me immediately."
The man nodded and left, his steps quick and purposeful. The rest of the pack began to disperse, their murmurs filled with tension. Alison stood frozen, the weight of the word "hunters" settling heavily on her chest.
"What happens now?" she asked, her voice quieter.
Kane turned to her, his gaze piercing. "You keep training."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of drills and sparring. Alison's muscles burned with every movement, her body screaming in protest. She wanted to quit, to throw the staff aside and walk away. But every time she thought about the hunters, about the wolves they had killed and the danger Kane insisted was coming for her, something inside her pushed her to keep going.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Alison was barely standing. She leaned against the stone wall of the courtyard, her staff clutched loosely in her hands. The pack had mostly dispersed, leaving only Kane and a few others lingering near the fire pit.
"You lasted longer than I expected," Kane said, approaching her. His tone was almost… impressed.
"Don't sound so surprised," Alison muttered, too tired to put much venom into her words.
Kane studied her for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "You're stronger than you think."
Alison looked away, her grip tightening on the staff. "I don't feel strong."
"Strength isn't about how you feel," Kane said. "It's about what you do, even when you're scared."
Alison didn't respond. She was too tired to argue, too drained to process his words. All she wanted was a moment to breathe, to let her body recover from the brutal day.
"Get some rest," Kane said after a moment. "Tomorrow will be harder."
"Great," Alison muttered, pushing herself off the wall. She started toward the door leading back to her room, but Kane's voice stopped her.
"Alison," he called.
She turned, her body aching with every movement.
"Good work today," he said, his tone quieter.
Alison blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected praise. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply nodded and continued walking. As she reached her room and closed the door behind her, she let out a shaky breath.
For the first time since arriving at the fortress, she felt a flicker of something other than fear or anger. It was faint, barely there. But it was enough.
Hope.