Page 54 of UNAwere

‘C’moooooon. I’ll share!’

‘I don’t want your fucking fries.’

‘What about a cheeseburger?’

‘No.’

I see the sign signalling the one-kilometre mark and my heart leaps.

‘Fries,’ I whine.

‘No.’

Twelve minutes later, I’m shoving fries into my mouth, dipping them into a chocolate shake. Briggs casts me a deadpan glance, and I grin at him, my cheeks stuffed full.

Two more days on the road sees us in the same routine we’ve been in since we first left Nolan’s. Except now we stop and train after lunch in an abandoned field or a copse of trees on the side of the road.

Briggs is like a drill sergeant and runs me through gruelling routines. And even though I can Turn a lot better now, he still gets me to do it multiple times in a row.

Good, he says, after my third Turn.

I groan, getting to my feet.

You know, you don’t have to do it in the foetal position, right?

I scoff. That’s what feels best for me.

Whatever. He nods his big black head to the field ahead of us. C’mon.

I chase after him, allowing myself to run the way I used to back home with Maeve. And I see the surprise flash in Briggs’s eyes when he sees me catch up to him and overtake. It’s not surprising I’m a little faster, with how small I am compared to him, but it still feels good to finally beat him at something.

I reach the other side of the field first and stop, panting.

I’m about to lay down to rest when something hard collides with me, and I lose all breath, crying out. Briggs has me pinned, his muzzle against my throat in seconds, and I gasp, struggling under him.

You need to be ready for an attack at all times, he warns me. That was pathetic.

That was unfair, I argue. You didn’t tell me we were fight training today.

I shouldn’t have to. His nose skims my chin as he lifts his head slightly, and I bite back the noise that comes clamouring up my throat.

Anger makes me kick out my legs and force my way out from under him. He snaps his jaws, but I’m quick to dodge them and take a hold of his tail between my teeth.

He snarls. Biting a Were’s tail is highly inappropriate.

Sue me.

When his teeth latch onto my tail, I yelp. And then we become a writhing circle of gnashing teeth and grumbled noises as we struggle against each other.

You’re fighting dirty. His voice is a low growl in my head, utterly unimpressed.

I tighten my jaw against his tail, and he groans. The sound excites something within me, but I’m quick to force it down.

I’m fighting. Like you wanted me to, I say.

Let go.

You first.