The Last Howl
I slowed to a stumbling stop before dropping heavily onto one knee, desperately trying to convince my lungs that oxygen was, in fact, a wonderful invention.
Professor Hawthorne stood near the gate, looking down at his clipboard. "Bellona Ashford."
I lifted my muddy head, wiping a streak of dirt from my forehead.
"Thirty-ninth."
For a second, I simply stared at him, stunned. Thirty-ninth. Out of one hundred elite wolves. Without an active wolf of my own.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across my dirt covered face. I did it. I wasn't the best, and I certainly wasn't the strongest, but I belonged. Happy tears blurrd my vision as I lay flat on the ground facing the sky, breathing heavily.