I reach into my jacket and pull out a small leather cord. At the end of it hangs a charm carved from obsidian—an old talisman my grandfather gave me when I was still just a pup. It’s been passed through our line for generations, worn during trials, used to focus strength.
I hold it out. “For luck,” I say.
Maya eyes it, then wraps her fingers around the charm, holding it for a beat before slipping it into her pocket.
“Thanks.” Her voice is quiet now, but not small.
I watch her for another moment, then ask, “What did your mom say when you told her?”
“She said anyone who challenges a girl learning to be both wolf and human at once is either arrogant... or afraid.”
I blink. “That sounds like approval.”
“It was the closest I’ve ever heard.”
A low howl breaks the quiet—three sharp notes rising from the trees. The call.
The challenge begins at moon rise.
We don’t head straight for the ring.
Instead, I lead her off the main trail to a clearing I’ve trained in since I was a kid—tucked back behind the old cedar grove where the ground’s packed flat from decades of footwork and sparring. The trees muffle the noise of the pack gathering in the distance. Here, under the half-lit moon and the hush of the forest, it’s just us.
Maya slows beside me, eyeing the space like she’s already calculatingher odds.
“We’ve got a few minutes,” I say. “We can work through a couple things.”
She pulls in a breath and nods. “Okay.”
She shrugs off her hoodie and steps into the center of the clearing, shoulders squared, already braced for impact. I follow, circling slow, watching how she holds herself.
“Feet shoulder-width. Center your weight. Relax your hands.”
She adjusts without argument.
We move. Light sparring. She lunges, I sidestep. She swings harder than she needs to, but her instincts are sharp tonight. Her balance is tight. She’s remembering things I’ve barely taught her.
She catches me off-guard once—a quick twist of her elbow that nearly grazes my ribs. I grin before I can stop myself.
“Better,” I say.
She smirks. “You weren’t trying.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Careful what you wish for.”
We circle again, sweat starting to bead along her hairline. She’s breathless but not winded, and her energy—whatever it is simmering beneath her skin—is building.
I step back and still.
“You felt it at the bonfire,” I say, voice quiet now. “Didn’t you? Something waking up.”
Maya’s expression flickers. She nods once. “I thought I was losing it.”
“You weren’t.”
I take a step closer.
“She’s in you—your wolf. Right beneath the surface. I want to try something.”
