Page 13 of Veiled

“Corvin, you’re up.”

I roll my shoulders and neck one last time before I climb onto the wooden box that acts as a step for the vertically challenged like me, too short to jump from the ground and too stubborn to get a boost from anyone else.

I grip the bar as best as I can. The metal’s slick, whether from the person before me sweating on it or from my own nerves getting the best of me, I’m not sure, but it’s not going to do me any favors.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Korr barks, apparently just as bad at motivational speeches as I am.

My shoulders protest on the first rep, feeling the lack of training over the last few months, but I grit my teeth and pull.

One. Two. Three.

By nine, the burn in my forearms flares like fire under my skin.

By twelve, my arms are trembling.

By fourteen, my body is rioting against me, but still, I hold Korr’s gaze.

Sheer will carries me when my strength starts to fray, and I haul myself up again and again, hitting seventeen, the highest for any woman so far.

As I lower myself down for another pull-up, my hands slip, and I feel the huge blisters that have formed in the last few minutes rupture. I fall to the ground, warm blood coating my palms before dripping to the dirt.

Wiping my hands on the grass to the side of the bars, I take a couple of steadying breaths, trying to pull my heartbeat back into something resembling normal.

“Damn, girl! That was impressive!”

Looking up, I'm surprised to see Emily beaming down at me.

“Thanks,” I say, still trying catch my breath. “I’m jealous of how easy you made yours look.”

“Upper body, I’m great, running is where I lose all hope,” she laughs as she walks away to get water.

Korr’s voice carries from the bars where the last group has started, “I expected you to stop at eight.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises,” I say, lifting my chin and pretending the sweat dripping down my jaw doesn’t exist. Never let them see you sweat.

His brow ticks up at my indignation, “Let’s see if that holds up after the hill.”

The corners of my mouth threaten to betray me, but I turn before he can see it.

“I think he gets off on torturing us,” Perry complains as we walk to the hill for suicide sprints.

“Running not your thing, I take it?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re good at this, too!” His voice is a borderline whine that I can’t help but laugh at.

“Oh gods, you are!”

“I’ve been running since I was young, but I promise my hand-to-hand skills will leave a lot to be desired if that makes you feel better?”

“Uhm, it would have if you didn’t skip over all of our other challenges this week like they don’t exist. What are you, one of those weird people that flips tires for fun and shit?”

Laughing, I shake my head, “No tires, I swear. I’ve worked in a gym for years though, so the planks and pull-ups and stuff are just another day at work.”

“I don’t know if we can be friends,” he jokes as the last of our group gets set on the starting line.

Korr gives us a countdown, at the blow of his whistle, we all take off like a shot from a gun. The mostly dry soil has just the right amount of give to let my shoes get traction as I lean into the hill on my way up and lean back a bit on my way down.

Pushing my body to its limits, I feel my knee start to lock on my second-to-last trip back down the hill, remnants of an old injury my dad gave me.