16

The next hour and a half are a whirlwind of sparring, instruction, and pain. Bly seems to have a knack for teasing out your every weakness, showcasing them repeatedly and painfully before correcting you and beginning the lesson again. She's never smug about it, always serious and in control. When she's sparring, she's almost like a different person: cool and calm, a true master of the art of combat.

At first Bly seems to assume that you've given up, but as you study her attacks and learn from the minute tells she gives before swinging, you develop counters, bobbing and weaving around her as she lunges, landing several jabs to her side.

It doesn't take long for Bly to see what you're doing, and she changes up her methods, feinting into a familiar attack before melting fluidly into a different posture altogether, whirling on her heel to deliver a roundhouse kick that sends you flying to the mats below.

Finally, when you can't imagine you can take any more, Bly lets her guard drop and motions for you to sit beside her. "I must admit," she says, winded, "I wasn't expecting you to pick up the art quite so quickly! I think I'll be able to work with you just fine from here on out."

You'd never admit it to her, but today's training has left you more sore and drained than you've ever felt in your life. But Bly's praise makes you feel good about yourself, and for the first time today you manage to banish the images of last night's discovery and the unfortunate battles that accompanied it.

"I won't ask you to commit just yet," Bly says, eyeing you as you wheeze for breath, "but we like our students to have a determined path in mind while they train here. I think I might just be able to take you all the way—you may even surpass me with enough hard work and training."

She stands up and offers you a hand. "Let's make a habit of this. Come back on a regular basis, and I might even be able to teach you a special technique. Your enemies will never see it coming."

Next

The idea of attending your monotonous evening job at the laundry after the extraordinary events of the past twenty-four hours seems almost laughably absurd, but at this point you'd still rather not draw too much attention.

Gotta keep up the charade that everything's normal, you think to yourself. At least there's some entertainment tonight to keep my mind off of things.

You almost forgot about tonight's play, an event that you've been excited about for weeks!

You're already halfway to the laundry when you remember that you promised to swap jobs with Tiva tonight if you lost her challenge climbing the ropes onto the bridge. Despite everything that's happened, you know very well that Tiva will never forget winning a bet.

You sigh and change direction, dragging your feet on the way to Razor's metal shop, inwardly groaning at the idea of even a few hours' physical labor in the sweltering heat.

Razor rolls her eyes when you tell her that Tiva swapped duties with you for the evening, but she doesn't offer complaint, simply pointing you down to the belt to work with Haken's crew.

A large muscle-bound brute of a wolf, Haken is popular with other adults, but he's never been overly friendly with you. He rumbles a low growl when he sees you approach instead of Tiva.

"It's just like her to skip out on hard work and leave me with a replacement like you," he huffs. "I don't suppose you have any metal-shaping experience?"

You shake your head, and Haken groans. "Of course not. That would be too convenient, wouldn't it? What skills do you bring to the table, little wolf?"

You tell Haken that…

Haken sniffs at the idea of you leading his wolves and directing them in their tasks. He calls for a pause on the conveyor belt and announces you as the new foreman. Several of the workers laugh out loud at the idea of taking orders from a youngster like yourself.

Well, you'll just have to show them.

"Go ahead, pup," Haken says with a grin. "I'm gonna take a break and let you motivate these grunts to work."

You try every trick in the book to motivate your workers. Positive reinforcement, negative reinforcement, appealing to their sense of duty…but nothing gets done. By the time Haken returns, the conveyor belt has come to a stop, and the workers are sitting around in small groups, joking with each other about the easiest day of work they've ever had.

Haken dismisses you with a grunt. "Didn't go the way you planned it, eh? Go on, get outa here. And tell Tiva that she'd better be in here tomorrow!"

Next

Emotionally and physically exhausted, a part of you wants to simply slink back home and pass out on your bed. But you've never missed a play before and even now you simply can't shake the temptation to engage in genuine entertainment.

Throughout your life you've seen the broken, scattered remains of human technology: televisions, video games, and computers. But precious little was left in working order after the Purge, and while some of the remaining devices continue to function, the human government has long since cut off all television and internet signals to the refuge.

Absent the entertainment that humans take for granted, the Haven pack continues a tradition of performing arts at Haven's single remaining theater near the docks of Long Wharf. Tonight's show has been teased with the tantalizing title The Sheep Eaters, and you've been looking forward to it for weeks.

By the time you arrive, the auditorium is already crowded with elders, adults, and pups alike, all clustered and vying for good seats close to the action.

Dena is seated in the back row, smiling as she watches normally good-tempered adults compete to sit in the front. You're surprised to see Bly here as well, sitting on the edge of her seat, neck craned forward as she watches the chaos, and there's Jolon, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed and half-hidden in shadow.

The house lights go dim, and the pack's clamor quiets to a dull roar. There's still plenty of places to sit, provided you weren't hoping for a front-row view.