The First Lesson

Rose's POV

Dawn came gray and cold through the east wing window. I'd barely slept—every creak of the old fortress, every howl in the distance, had pulled me from a shallow doze. The nightmares had been waiting. My father's face, blood on his lips. Fiona's smile as the order was given.

I sat up, my body aching in ways I hadn't noticed the night before. The healer's poultices had done their work on the worst of my wounds, but exhaustion lived in my bones like a second skin.

A sharp knock at the door.

I pulled on the clothes left for me—simple wool trousers, a linen tunic, leather boots that fit surprisingly well. Someone had measured me while I slept.

"Come in."

A young wolf entered. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with sharp brown eyes and a way of holding herself that suggested she'd seen her share of hard winters.

"The Alpha sent me," she said. "I'm Lyra. I'm to take you to the training grounds."

"You're my instructor?"

A short, humorless laugh. "No. I'm the one who gets to watch the instructor try not to kill you. You'll meet him soon enough."

I followed her through winding stone corridors. The River Wolves' stronghold was older than the Silverwood Pack's estate—rougher, built for function over beauty. The walls were thick, the torches spaced far apart, the air carrying the constant scent of water and damp stone.

"So," Lyra said as we walked, "you're the one who walked through Silver Creek territory alone. Three weeks."

"Word travels fast."

"Word travels faster when you're the first outsider to be granted quarters in the east wing in twenty years." She glanced at me sideways. "You must be important."

"Or desperate."

She snorted. "Same thing, out here."

We emerged into a wide courtyard. The river curled past on three sides, the water dark and swift. Training dummies lined one wall. A weapons rack stood near the center. And there, already waiting, was a wolf who looked like he'd been carved from granite and bad temper.

He was older than Aiden—maybe early fifties—with silver streaking his dark hair and a face full of scars. One eye was clouded white, the other fixed on me with an intensity that made my wolf want to retreat.

"This her?" His voice was gravel.

"Gunnar," Lyra said, "meet Rose. Try not to break her before breakfast."

Gunnar's good eye swept over me, cataloging weakness. "She looks like she'd break if I sneezed."

I squared my shoulders. "Try me."

A grin cracked his scarred face, devoid of warmth. "Good. She's got teeth. That's something. Lyra, get out of the way."

Lyra perched on a stone wall, settling in like she was about to watch a performance.

Gunnar circled me slowly. "The Alpha says you got Old Moon blood. Dormant. Untrained. That's the only reason I'm wasting my time. You're going to learn to access it, but first—" He stopped in front of me. "You're going to learn to fight without it."

"I already know how to fight."

"You know how to survive." He jabbed a finger at my chest. "There's a difference. Surviving means running, hiding, taking hits and living. Fighting means standing your ground and making sure the other wolf doesn't get back up." He stepped back. "Show me what you've got. Hit me."

I didn't hesitate. I swung for his jaw.

He caught my wrist mid-swing, twisted, and had me on my knees with my arm locked behind my back in less than a second.

"Slow," he said. "Telegraphing. You were wolf-bait before you even threw that punch."

He released me. I scrambled to my feet, cheeks burning.

"Again."

I tried harder this time. Feinted left, aimed for his ribs. He blocked, pivoted, and swept my legs out from under me. I hit the packed earth hard enough to see stars.

"Better," he said. "Still bad. Again."

We went through that dance for what felt like hours. I hit the ground more times than I could count. My body screamed, every bruise from the past weeks announcing itself with fresh pain. But somewhere in the middle of it, something shifted.

I started to see him. The way his weight shifted before a move. The tiny tells in his shoulders. The rhythm of his breath.

I dodged his next grab. He looked almost surprised.

"There," he said. "That's your instincts waking up. Keep that."

A small victory. My body shook as I stood.

And then Gunnar said something that made my blood run cold.

"Now we're going to do this again. But this time, I'm not holding back."

Lyra sat up straighter.

I had no time to brace. Gunnar came at me like a storm.

---

Edwin's POV

I found her an hour later, slumped against the courtyard wall, blood dripping from her split lip, her knuckles raw and torn. Lyra was gone. Gunnar had walked off without a word after finally calling the session.

"You look terrible," I said, sitting down beside her.

"I feel worse." She didn't open her eyes. "Didn't know training meant getting beaten into the dirt."

"It does, when Gunnar's teaching. He broke my ribs three times the first month."

Her eyes opened, one of them swelling shut. "Three times?"

"First one was my fault. The second was his. The third was because I laughed at his beard."

A tiny, pained smile crossed her face. "He seems like the type to hold a grudge."

"Longer than any wolf I know." I offered her my canteen. She took it, drinking deep.

For a while we sat in silence, watching the river move past.

"Thank you," she said finally. "For coming. For staying. I know you didn't sign up for any of this."

"I signed up the moment I found you at the border." I met her good eye. "You don't owe me anything, Rose. I'm here because I choose to be."

She looked away. I could see her fighting something—grief, maybe, or the desperate need to push people away before they could hurt her.

"Ethan made the same choice," she said quietly. "To stay. To help. Until he didn't."

I knew what she was doing. Testing me. Seeing if I'd be like him.

"I'm not Ethan. I don't get bored. I don't trade loyalty for power." I paused. "And I don't walk away from family."

She looked at me sharply. "We're not family."

"Closer than I've got." I shrugged. "Maybe that's not the same for you. But you're the closest thing I've had to a purpose since I lost mine."

She didn't argue. I counted that as progress.

Rose's POV

Edwin left when the sun started to sink. I stayed against the wall, letting my body slowly stop screaming.

Gunnar's lesson echoed in my mind. Surviving means running. Fighting means standing your ground.

I'd been running for three weeks. Running from my pack's slaughter. Running from what I'd lost. Running toward the only hope I had left.

But now, sitting here with Aiden's fortress rising behind me and the river dark at my feet, I realized something.

I was done running.

The Old Moon blood hummed faintly beneath my skin, a distant pulse I'd barely felt before. Gunnar's beating had woken something. Not the power itself, but the awareness of it. A door I'd been banging on without knowing how to open.

Tomorrow I'd try again. And the day after. And every day until I learned to open that door.

A figure appeared in the courtyard archway. Aiden.

He walked toward me, unhurried, his eyes scanning the damage Gunnar had done.

"You're still standing."

"Is that surprising?"

"Most wolves don't walk away from Gunnar's first session without being carried."

I pushed myself to my feet, swallowing a hiss of pain. "Most wolves aren't carrying what I'm carrying."

He stepped closer. I didn't step back.

"You wanted to become something," he said. "Something your enemies would fear. That doesn't happen overnight, Rose. It happens one bruise at a time. One broken bone. One fall that you get up from when every part of you wants to stay down."

"I know what it takes."

"Do you?" He reached out, fingers brushing my split lip. A spark of electricity shot through me—not pain, but something else. Something that made the Old Moon blood stir.

He pulled his hand back, his expression unreadable.

"Eat. Rest. Tomorrow you start again."

He turned and walked away, leaving me in the growing dark.

I touched my lip where he'd touched it.

What was that?

The blood hummed in response, quieter now, but present.

I had a feeling I was only beginning to understand what kind of wolf I was becoming.