Chapter 8

Calla's Perspective

The bitter taste of Luna Anya's scent-masking potion made me gag every afternoon, but it was a small price to pay for the training I desperately needed. The herbal mixture tasted like someone had boiled tree bark with expired medicine, but Anya had explained it was necessary to keep my presence at Moonveil undetected until the pack was ready to know about me.

"Still tastes like death," I muttered, washing down the last of the potion with water as Thorne pulled up to our usual meeting spot three blocks from school.

"You'll get used to it," Thorne said with a grin as I slid into his truck. "Though I have to admit, watching you try not to throw up every day is pretty entertaining."

"Your compassion is overwhelming," I replied dryly, but I was grateful for his easy humor. The past few weeks of afternoon training sessions had become the highlight of my days. Finally, a place where I could explore what I was becoming.

The old training grounds were a twenty-minute drive into pack territory, far enough from the packhouse and main path that we wouldn't encounter curious pack members. Weathered obstacle courses and training equipment spoke to decades of use, and I'd grown to love the familiar sight of the secluded clearing.

"Welcome to boot camp," Thorne had said on our first day, gesturing to what looked like an obstacle course designed by someone with a sadistic sense of humor. "We built a new state-of-the-art facility closer to the pack house, but since we're keeping a low profile, I thought we'd use this place. Plus, no witnesses to your inevitable face-plants."

I had eyed a rope climb that seemed to reach into the clouds. "Gee, thanks. I've always wanted tetanus as a training partner."

But as the days passed, what had once seemed like instruments of torture began to feel like natural extensions of my newfound abilities. The rope climb that had left my arms screaming on day one became almost effortless by day three. The weighted sprints that had me gasping for air initially were now just a warm-up.

"You're holding back again," Thorne observed, watching me complete a series of precision jumps between platforms of varying heights. "I can see you calculating each move instead of trusting your instincts."

I landed on the final platform with cat-like grace, barely breathing hard despite the complex sequence. "I'm being careful. There's a difference."

"Is there?" Thorne moved to stand below my platform, his amber eyes serious. "Calla, your enhanced strength means you could easily clear twice that distance. Your reflexes are faster than any human's. But you're still moving like you're afraid you'll break something."

"He speaks truth," Lyra murmured in my mind. "We are capable of so much more."

I dropped down from the platform, landing in a crouch that would have been impossible a week ago. "Maybe because I am afraid I'll break something. Or someone."

Thorne's expression softened with understanding. "I get it. When I first started developing my abilities, I accidentally put my fist through a wall because I misjudged my strength. Scared the hell out of my parents."

"You put your fist through a wall?"

"It was sheetrock," Thorne clarified with a sheepish grin. "But yeah. The point is, control comes from understanding your limits, not from being afraid of them. You can't protect yourself if you don't know what you're capable of."

I recalled an earlier training session where I practiced shifting partially—learning to call upon enhanced senses and strength without fully transforming.

"The key to partial shifting," Thorne had explained, "is communication with your wolf. You're not suppressing her or controlling her, you're working together."

I had closed my eyes, feeling for Lyra's presence in my mind. "How do I know what she wants to share and what she wants to keep?"

"Ask her," Thorne had said simply. "The bond between human and wolf is a partnership. Lyra doesn't want to hurt you any more than you want to hurt her."

It had taken several attempts, but gradually I learned to access enhanced hearing without fully shifting, to call upon supernatural strength for specific tasks, to sharpen my sense of smell when tracking or identifying threats. Each small success built my confidence and deepened my connection with Lyra.

Now the old training grounds felt different to me. What had once seemed like a collection of slightly intimidating obstacles now felt like a natural extension of my abilities. I moved through the course Thorne had set up with a fluid grace that surprised us both, my enhanced strength and speed making exercises that had left me gasping just days before feel almost effortless.

"Better," Thorne commented as I completed a series of jumps that would have challenged an Olympic athlete. "But you're still holding back. Calla, I know this is all new and overwhelming, but you can't be afraid of your own power. That's how people get hurt."

"He's right," Lyra murmured. "We're stronger when we trust ourselves."

"Easy for both of you to say," I muttered. "You've had years to get used to this. I've had weeks."

Thorne's expression softened with understanding. "Fair point. But that's exactly why you need to push yourself now, in a controlled environment with someone watching out for you. What happens if you're in danger and you hesitate because you're not sure what you're capable of?"

The question hung in the air between us, weighted with implications I didn't want to examine too closely. I'd been trying not to think about Anya's warnings about enemies who might still be hunting me, but the threat was always there, lurking at the edges of my consciousness.

"Fine," I said, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. "What do you want me to do?"

Thorne grinned, and there was something almost predatory in the expression. "I want you to try to hit me."

"What?"

"Combat training," he explained, moving into a loose fighting stance. "You need to learn how to use your strength effectively, and I need to understand what you're capable of so I can help you improve."

I shook my head. "Thorne, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," he said with perhaps more confidence than the situation warranted. "I'm bigger, more experienced, and I've been training since I could walk. You'll be lucky to land a hit."

The casual dismissal sparked something competitive in my chest. "Oh, really?"

"Really." Thorne's smile widened. "Come on, cousin. Show me what you've got."

What followed was fifteen minutes of the most intense physical activity of my life. Thorne moved like water, flowing around my attacks with an ease that was both impressive and infuriating. Every time I thought I had an opening, he was already gone, countering with controlled strikes that taught me about my own defensive capabilities without actually causing damage.

But gradually, something shifted. The careful, human part of my mind that calculated risks and worried about consequences began to quiet, and something wilder took its place. I found myself moving faster, hitting harder, my body seeming to remember instincts I'd never learned.

And then, finally, I connected.

The punch caught Thorne in the solar plexus, doubling him over and sending him staggering backward. For a moment, we both stood frozen, staring at each other in shock.

"Oh god," I gasped, rushing forward. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"That," Thorne wheezed, straightening up with obvious effort, "was perfect."

"Perfect? You can barely breathe!"

"Because you finally stopped thinking and started trusting your instincts." Despite his obvious discomfort, Thorne looked pleased.

"That's what I've been trying to get you to understand. Your wolf knows how to fight—you just have to let her."

"He speaks truth," Lyra said with satisfaction. "We are warriors born."

I helped Thorne to a fallen log that served as a makeshift bench, guilt and exhilaration warring in my chest. "I've never hit anyone that hard before. In my life."

"And hopefully you'll never have to hit anyone harder," Thorne said, accepting the water bottle I offered. "But now you know you can if you need to. That confidence will serve you well."

As we sat in comfortable silence, catching our breath, I found myself thinking about all the pack dynamics Thorne had been explaining during our training sessions, but I realized there were still gaps in my understanding.

"Can I ask you something?" I said finally.

"Shoot."

"I know there’s different roles in the pack. Can you run through who does what and what they are called?"

Thorne nodded, settling more comfortably on the fallen log. "Sure. It's important you understand how everything works." He took a sip of water before continuing. "At the top, we have the Alpha—that's my dad, Alric. He's the ultimate authority, makes the big decisions, and is responsible for the pack's safety and prosperity."

I nodded, following along.

"The Alpha's mate is called the Luna—my mom, Anya. She's not just the Alpha's wife; she's a leader in her own right. The Luna often handles internal pack matters, mediates disputes, and serves as the emotional heart of the pack. In many ways, she's just as important as the Alpha."

"And you're the heir," I said.

"Right. As the Alpha's son, I'm being trained to eventually take over leadership. It's... a lot of responsibility," Thorne admitted, and I could hear the weight of expectation in his voice.

"What about the others? You mentioned a Beta and Gamma?"

"The Beta is the Alpha's second-in-command. Think of him as the right-hand man who helps with day-to-day operations and steps in when the Alpha is away. The Gamma is responsible for training and security—he oversees our warriors and ensures the pack's physical safety. Eventually we’ll loop him into your training too."

Thorne gestured toward the training equipment around us. "Then we have the regular pack members. Most are Omegas, but don't let the name fool you—they're the backbone of our community. Some run the packhouse, others work our farms, manage our businesses in town, handle construction projects. We even have pack members who work in human jobs to help us blend in and gather information about the outside world."

"It sounds like a small city," I observed.

"In many ways, it is. We're largely self-sufficient, but we also interact with the human world when necessary." Thorne's expression grew more serious. "And then there are warriors—pack members who've chosen to focus on protection and defense. They train regularly, patrol our territory, and would be our first line of defense if we were threatened."

"How many warriors does Moonveil have?"

Thorne thought for a moment. "About a hundred dedicated warriors, plus another fifty or so pack members who have combat training but focus on other duties most of the time. They take their responsibilities seriously, always watching for potential threats to the pack."

I considered this information, trying to fit myself into the structure Thorne had described. "Where do I fit in all this?"

"That's... complicated," Thorne said carefully. "You're family, so you'd automatically have a respected position. Plus, being a Golden Wolf makes you unique. The pack will look to you for guidance in ways you might not expect."

"We will find our place," Lyra said confidently. "Leadership comes in many forms."

"What's it like?" I asked, studying Thorne's profile. "Knowing that all these people will depend on you someday?"

Thorne was quiet for a moment, his expression growing thoughtful. "Terrifying," he admitted. "Every decision I make, every mistake, every moment of weakness—it all gets magnified when you know people are going to depend on you to keep them safe."

"Do you want it? The leadership, I mean."

The question seemed to catch him off guard. He was quiet for a long moment, absently rotating the water bottle between his hands.

"Want is... complicated. I've never known anything else. Since I was old enough to understand what it meant, being Alpha has been my future. My parents, the pack, everyone has been preparing me for it."

"That's not an answer."

Thorne glanced at me, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "You don't let people get away with deflecting, do you?"

"Not when it matters." I leaned forward, genuine curiosity in my voice. "Thorne, if you could choose any life, what would you choose?"

"I..." He paused, seeming to wrestle with something internal. "I love this pack. These people. I'd die to protect them, and I genuinely believe I can lead them well. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to travel, to see other packs, other ways of living. To make mistakes that only affect me."

The honesty in his voice made my chest tight. "Have you ever told your parents how you feel?"

"How can I? They've devoted their lives to preparing me for this role. The pack has built their future around the assumption that I'll be their next Alpha. I can't just..." He shrugged helplessly. "I can't just decide I want something different."

"He carries a heavy burden," Lyra observed. "Leadership is not always a gift."

"Maybe," I said carefully, "the fact that you question whether you want it is exactly why you'd be good at it. Someone who takes power for granted probably shouldn't have it."

Thorne looked at me with something like gratitude. "I hope you're right. Because one day over three hundred wolves are all going to rely on me to lead them. "

The number hit me like a physical blow. "Three hundred? I had no idea the pack was so large."

"Most packs are smaller, but Moonveil has always been prosperous. We've absorbed smaller packs over the years, offering protection to wolves who needed it." Thorne stood, stretching muscles that were probably going to be sore tomorrow. "It's a good problem to have, but it makes leadership that much more complex."

As we grabbed our water bottles, I found myself thinking about the weight of expectation, about paths chosen for you before you were old enough to understand what you were giving up. The conversation had given me new insight into Thorne's character, and I felt a deeper respect for the burden he carried.

"For what it's worth," I said as we got into his truck, "I think you'll make an excellent Alpha. You care about people more than power, and that's exactly what leadership should be."

Thorne started the engine, but his hands remained still on the steering wheel for a moment. "Thank you," he said softly. "That... means more than you know."

As we drove back toward town, both lost in our own thoughts, I realized that the physical training was teaching me more than just supernatural conditioning. It was showing me what it meant to be part of something larger than myself, to understand that every ability came with responsibility.

"We are learning to be worthy of our gifts," Lyra observed with satisfaction. "This is how true strength is built."