The training yard was already full of wolves when I arrived at dawn. I barely slept, too nervous about my first official training session. Drake stood in the center of the yard, arms crossed, watching as pack members warmed up with stretches and practice drills.
"You're early," he noted when I approached. "Good. Shows dedication."
"I don't want to waste anyone's time," I said.
"Training is never a waste of time." He gestured to the other wolves. "Pair up with someone for warm-ups. Emma, you free?"
Emma bounced over, grinning. "Ready to get your butt kicked?"
"Is it obvious that I've never done this before?" I asked.
"Little bit," she said kindly. "But everyone starts somewhere. Come on, I'll go easy on you."
We paired up and began the warm-up routine. It was simple enough, stretches, footwork drills, basic blocks and strikes. But even these fundamentals showed how unprepared I was. My movements were clumsy and uncertain compared to Emma's practiced grace.
After warm-ups, Drake called everyone to attention. "Today we're working on defensive techniques. I've noticed some of you are getting sloppy, dropping your guard too early. In a real fight, that'll get you killed."
He demonstrated a series of defensive moves, explaining the theory behind each one. Then he had us practice with partners, slowly at first, then gradually speeding up.
I worked with Emma, who was patient as I struggled to remember the sequences. My body wasn't used to moving this way. At Silverwood, I've been taught to cower and submit. Now I was learning to stand firm and deflect attacks.
"Better," Emma encouraged after I successfully blocked three of her strikes in a row. "You're learning fast."
"Or you're still going easy on me," I said.
"Also true." She grinned. "But seriously, you've got good instincts. Your reactions are quick, even if your technique is rough."
After an hour, Drake called for sparring matches. My stomach dropped. I wasn't ready for actual sparring. But Drake must have sensed my panic because he said, "Nessa, you're with me. Everyone else, pair up."
I approached him nervously. The other wolves had spread out across the training yard, beginning their matches with controlled intensity. Drake led me to a corner where we'd have space.
"Don't look so terrified," he said, his gruff voice holding a hint of amusement. "I'm not going to hurt you. We're just going to test what you know."
"That'll be a short test," I muttered.
"Maybe. Or maybe you know more than you think." He dropped into a fighting stance. "Come at me. Don't think, just react."
I hesitated, then lunged forward awkwardly, trying to remember what I learned. Drake sidestepped easily and tapped my shoulder, where he could have struck if this were real.
"Again," he said.
We went through this pattern over and over. I'll attack, he'll counter, he'll point out what I did wrong. He was patient but firm, pushing me to try harder without overwhelming me.
"You're too hesitant," he observed after my tenth failed attempt. "You're thinking too much about whether you deserve to hit me. In a fight, there's no room for that doubt. Your enemy won't hesitate. Neither can you."
"I don't want to hurt anyone," I admitted.
"Even if they're trying to hurt you?" Drake raised an eyebrow. "Look, I get that you've been taught to be submissive, to accept whatever others dish out. But that's survival, not living. If you want to truly be free, you need to believe you have the right to defend yourself."
His words hit hard because they were true. Part of me still believed I deserved the pain I received. That I was supposed to accept it and not fight back.
"Again," Drake said. "And this time, mean it."
I attacked again, putting more force behind my strike. Drake blocked it but nodded approvingly. "Better. Again."
We continued until I was dripping sweat and my muscles were screaming. But something was shifting inside me. Each time I struck out, each time I defended myself successfully, I felt a little more capable, a little more worthy.
By the time Drake called an end to my personal session, I was exhausted but exhilarated.
"Not bad for a first day," he said. "You've got a long way to go, but you're coachable. That's what matters. Same time tomorrow."
The rest of the day passed in a blur. After training, I cleaned up and met Emma at the medical center for my first healing lesson. The pack doctor, an elderly woman named Margaret, taught me about basic herbs and their uses.
"Healing is as much about intuition as knowledge," Margaret explained, showing me how to prepare a poultice. "You need to understand the body, yes, but you also need to feel what the injury needs. Some wolves have a natural gift for it."
She had me practice on minor cuts and bruises that pack members brought in. To my surprise, I found I did have an instinct for it. When I touched an injury, I could sense what was wrong, almost see the damage beneath the skin.
"Interesting," Margaret murmured, watching me work. "You have strong healing intuition. That's rare."
"Is it related to my... bloodline?" I asked carefully.
"Perhaps. Powerful bloodlines often carry multiple gifts. We'll explore it more as we continue your training."
Over the next week, I fell into a routine. Mornings in the training yard with Drake, learning combat techniques and slowly building strength. Afternoons at the medical center with Margaret and Emma, learning about healing and discovering I had a real talent for it. Evenings socializing with pack members, slowly making friends and feeling less like an outsider.
I was careful about using my Silver Moon abilities. I practiced in private, late at night in the forest, learning to shape moonlight and control my transformations. But I didn't advertise what I could do. Ezra had been right, the fewer people who knew, the safer I'd be.
I saw Ezra regularly around the pack, and each time we made eye contact, I felt that strange pull. He seemed to feel it too, often pausing mid-conversation when I entered a room. But we both ignored it, pretending it wasn't happening.