Training

Training 

The day slowly crawled into night, every passing hour dragging like a heavy chain. By early evening, Zayn had the maids serve me a dinner of flame-seared flank steak strips paired with salted sweet potato wedges, blistered wild greens and a tall glass of icy, electrolyte infused tonic. 

I ate every last bite, using the meal to heavily load up on raw protein, iron, slow burning complex carbs. My body needed maximum strength, stamina and explosive energy to survive hours of high speed sprinting and brutal ambushes in the dark forest without my stomach feeling heavy or cramping up mid-stride.

Once I finished, I pulled on my gear for the night. I wore a dark charcoal compression long sleeve paired with reinforced black cargo leggings, low profile tactical trail boots and tight double Dutch braids to keep my hair out of my face in the night shadows. The dark, sleek fabric felt like a second skin, giving me full range of motion while blending me into the impending darkness.

By 9:00 PM, we were standing at the edge of a pitch-black, moonlit forest, set for training. The cold wind howled softly through the high canopy, carrying the scent of pine, damp dirt, and incoming danger.

“You have three tests,” Zayn said, his voice low and commanding as we stood at the edge of the shadows. “The Trail of Blood and Iron, The Phantom of the Abyss, and The Alpha’s Reckoning.”

I listened carefully as he spoke, letting every word burn into my memory.

“We’re starting with the first,” he said, turning to face the dense tree line.

“The Trail of Blood and Iron is a physical test. You have to run to a particular part of the forest without hiding or getting captured, proving that you don’t win by hiding. Are you set?”

I nodded in affirmation, but my pulse was already racing.

Before taking a single step into the trees, I closed my eyes and anchored my mind. I took three deep, measured breaths, tuning out the anxious thrum in my blood and locking into the raw environment around me. I picked out the subtle details of the night: the distant, barely audible snap of a dry twig, the high rustle of the canopy overhead, and the faint, predatory shift of bodies already waiting in the dark. I pressed my tactical boots firmly into the damp earth, forcing my human consciousness to align completely with my wolf’s instincts.

When I snapped my eyes open, the pitch black woods were no longer a wall of darkness, they had snapped into razor-sharp, moonlight dappled clarity.

"Go," Zayn commanded.

I exploded forward like a shot, my boots digging deep into the loose soil as I sprinted into the unmapped border zone. The cold night air slapped against my skin, but within seconds, the high octane fuel of my dinner burned hot through my muscles. My lungs expanded, taking in deep draws of mountain air as I accelerated into the trees.

I wasn't even fifty yards in when the first ambush hit.

I caught the faint scent of damp leather a split-second before a shadow dropped from a high branch directly into my path. An elite pack champion swung a heavy wooden training staff straight for my chest. Reflexes took over instantly. I ducked beneath the whistling arc of the wood, planted both hands on the damp earth, and executed a sweeping low kick that swept his ankles out from under him.

The warrior crashed hard onto his back, but I didn't stop to admire the hit or get dragged into a brawl. I vaulted over his body and broke into a hard sprint, weaving aggressively through the thick timber. 

“Never run in a straight line,” Zayn’s training advice echoed through my head. “Keep moving, keep guessing.”

My wolf roared in my chest, demanding more speed. I pushed faster, leaping over fallen logs and darting between jagged rock faces. But the forest wasn't just a racecourse, it was a trap.

As I accelerated down a steep, darkened incline, my wolf’s nose caught a sudden, sharp metallic scent hidden under a pile of rotting leaves: fresh iron. A concealed snare tripwire.

I leaped mid-stride to clear the trap, but the sudden shift in my momentum threw off my balance. My landing foot hit slick, damp moss, and my ankle gave way. I skidded hard across the ground, leaves and dirt spraying around me.

Before I could right my stance and regain my footing, a heavy impact slammed straight into my ribs.

The wind was violently knocked out of me in a single, sickening gasp. A second pack champion had hit me from my flank. We tumbled violently through the underbrush, rolling over sharp stones and roots until my back slammed with bone-rattling force against the trunk of a massive oak tree.

Pinched against the wood, I tried to push up, but a thick, calloused hand clamped hard around my throat, pinning my head back against the bark. My vision swam with dark spots as my air supply was instantly cut off.

Before I could drive an elbow into his ribs, a third champion emerged from the shadows, stepping into my line of sight and brandishing a blunt iron blade. He blocked my only clear exit route, his eyes cold and unyielding in the moonlight.

My lungs screamed for oxygen. My heart hammered like a trapped bird against my ribs. Panic flared hot and wild in my throat, I was completely trapped.

If this were the actual test along the Midnight border, there would be no reset button. I would already be dead or dragged away in chains, my trial over before I had even reached the halfway mark.

"You're dead, Raven," the tracker holding my throat growled, leaning his weight into my neck until the bark bit into my scalp. "You're relying way too much on pure speed, but right now? You have zero leverage. You failed."

I choked on a pathetic attempt to inhale, my fingernails clawing uselessly at his iron grip on my neck. My legs felt heavy, my vision was blurring at the edges, and the second hunter was already stepping forward to execute the final blow. I couldn't out-muscle a full-grown pack warrior while pinned, and I couldn't dodge past a second opponent blocking the path.

Every instinct screamed that I had lost. I was failing Zayn, failing the pack, and failing myself.

Unless... I stopped fighting like a runner who got caught, and started fighting like a wolf with nothing left to lose.