Knife throwing. Hand to hand. And the melee.

That’s it. That’s all that’s left. That’s all I need to do before I’ll be able to focus entirely on protecting the city.

Because I don’t plan on winning. Never did, never will. Someone will protect the bastard of a prince who’s too handsome for his own good. I’ll roam the streets with Ran and maybe even rest an entire night without being attacked or covered in gore. Won’t that be the day.

A boy walks up between commoners, trying not to stare at me. Others stop and try to pat my back, but the boy shoves forward, his shield held before him, eyes big and pleading. A shy smile crosses his lips.

"W-will ye strike m-me shield, sir?" he asks, nearly too softly for me to hear.

I give a little smile despite my thoughts and bend down to his level. His brown eyes grow wide, his cheeks turning pink.

"What's your name?" I ask, smiling.

"J-Jason, sir," he says, throwing a sloppy salute.

I chuckle, patting his shoulder. "Well met, Jason. Are you here with your family?"

He looks around, pointing out a lady watching the lad with something akin to horror growing in her eyes as she about strangles the hand of a girl of about six beside her and her husband on the other. "That's them, sir. But they didna want me asking for this," he says, turning his head down in shame.

"Most times, it's best to obey your parents. They have been around a lot longer than us and know things we don't. But can I share something?" His eyes flick up, and he nods. "My Momma didn't want me learning the sword. Was afraid I'd get hurt. And you know what else? She was exactly right. I've gotten hurt more times than I can count."

His eyes watch me with an innocent hope. "Do ya regret it?"

I shake my head with a small laugh. "Nope. Not a bit."

He nods as if my words were a dragon's hoard of wisdom. Great. Now I'm inspiring youngsters. I just hope he doesn't follow in my steps.

My cheeks grow warm as I strike his shield with a sheathed blade I keep on me just for this nowadays. And he salutes me with a toy wooden sword, nearly knocking over his mom when she appears beside him and tows him away.

I seriously hope I didn't just make the kid think it's alright to disobey your parents.

Heck... that's probably exactly what he heard.

I sigh, glancing around at the many people outside the arena, many hundreds streaming into the large main entrance to find seats before the knife trial begins.

Many men and women call out, selling wares and passing off sizzling meat, buttered octopus legs, sweetened honeycakes, and flags to young and old alike.

The breeze passes through the short strands in my hair and I run a hand through it, still not entirely used to the feel of the air running through my hair to reach my scalp like cold fingers. Yet... I almost like it.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Long hair is pretty, but it’s so hard to clean dried blood out of. And don’t get me started on Eldertree sap or jacobi slime.

Short hair stays out of the way and you don’t have to brush it out constantly to prevent tangles or worry about someone grabbing it while fighting.

I might miss my long hair—and hope father isn’t too mad on Fifth—but the practicality of it is growing on me.

That would normally elicit a snarky response... but Ran is still pouting over me not being able to ride her in the joust and has now left the city entirely, exploring the woods and searching out rabbits and deer to feast on.

I guess she thinks I can take care of myself anymore. The thought is more bitter than I would think. I miss her. A lot.

A gentle sigh comes as I sign a few flags with my banner. Rider… search me and know.

I get to the arena and walk beneath the half-moon entrance and into the area beneath the arena. The gray walls match my mood, and I try to ignore the way my Gift still feels… bereft. Before, with it blocked entirely until it broke through my inner walls, it was like a tsunami. An overwhelming force that took me by surprise with debilitating force. But now?

Now it feels like the lake running through the center of the city. Silent, watching, powerful. A large pool of water which could hide unknown depths. And from what I’ve seen—those unexpected depths can hide monsters I don't wish to find.

I stifle a shiver, trying to ignore the placid pool in my spirit and the way it’s constantly there. I’ve known it was there… but I’ve never felt it like this.

Ran pushes her nose into the pool, and it links to her, nearly purring in happiness.

Grand. Even my Gift likes my bond more than it likes me.

You betrayed her. Of course she likes me more.

Traitor.

That’s rich.

Shush.

Search me, rider, she says, gently nudging her soul into my hands.

I smile and lean against a wall beneath the earth, diving into my bond’s heart and soul.

A path lay before me. The sun was bright overhead and the scent of everblossoms made my nose twitch. I almost sneezed, but after a few wiggles of my nose, the scent passed and I searched for prey. Both hunger and a form of sorrow nearly overwhelmed my heart, but I shook it off just as a rabbit jumped from a burrow.

A low woof came from my lips and I let my tongue loll out of my mouth as I gave chase. Wanting to forget, wanting to let the bliss of the hunt ease the ache. Wolves didn’t feel in such a way.

But I did.

The curse of what if? The pain of remembering. Of reminisce.

Wolves, at times, would mourn for long periods of time. Wolves often took one mate for life, and would sometimes die alone from heartbreak should they lose their heartsoul.

But they did not question. They did not wonder why. They lived and died, pack and soul, wild and free. That was the fate of the wolf.

A scent touched my nose, and I pulled up inches from the cottontail, letting the fluff ball dart into the ground, quivering and sides heaving.

My ears twitched, then laid flat on my head with lips pulled into a snarl.

It was a scent I hadn’t smelled in many years.

But the wild had not been tamed from me. My sister ensured that.

A wolf knew the scent of her kind, no matter how long it had been since the sweet, nearly moon-like scent touched her soul.

A Timber Wolf pack was back in these woods.

And Wolfsbane was hot on their trail.

My breath had faltered in my breast as I got used to being in my human body with two arms and two legs instead of four legs and a tail. I breathed in a lungful of air, coughing when dust from the wall I leaned on was sucked up my nose with the air.

A pack of Timbers are here?

I wouldn’t leave you but for good reason, sis. You are my pack, and you need me--

But they need you more, I say, cutting her off. I have support, beaut. I have Momma and the twins and Hans and Jenny and Silver. They don't. They may not know what’s stalking them. Find them.

She howled, and somehow, someway, I think I heard the haunting, nearly heart-breaking cry above the din of roars in the arena and the bark of dogs and the sizzling of fatty foods for those in the stands to buy at ten times the going price.

And I smiled as I stalked up the ramp into the arena, finding Sir Robin waiting for me with a grin parting his face and his eyes shining with mischief.

My bond was searching for her kind. And I hope she finds what she's looking for, and maybe she'll take out a problem or two while she’s at it.