The "short break" Nero promised lasted exactly as long as it took for Jairo to collapse onto a wooden bench, his lungs burning and his palms stinging from the friction of the hilt. He stared at his paws, watching the way the fur was singed with sweat and dust. The adrenaline was starting to ebb, replaced by a dull, rhythmic throb in his shoulders. He looked over at Ariel, who was leaning against a fence post, watching him with an unreadable expression. She wasn't mocking him now; there was a flicker of something like respect in her golden eyes.
"Strength training," Jairo muttered, the words sounding like a groan. "Because the part where my arms feel like overcooked noodles wasn't enough."
"Noodles, huh?" Nero's voice boomed as he stepped over, his massive frame casting a shadow that completely eclipsed Jairo. "I don't know what those are, but you make them sound like something weaklings would have. Warriors are made of iron and grit." He didn't give Jairo time to argue or even fully recover. With a sudden, lightning-fast movement, Nero gripped the back of Jairo's collar and hoisted him upward, depositing him in front of a series of heavy, weathered stones that looked like they had been dragged from a riverbed centuries ago.
The stones were varying sizes, ranging from the size of a melon to a boulder that looked capable of crushing a carriage. Beside them lay a pile of thick, hempen ropes. Nero didn't explain the drill; he simply pointed to the largest stone and then to the rope. Jairo stared at the rock, then back at the wolf. The implication was clear: tie it, pull it, or be left behind.
Jairo didn't even have time to complain before Nero was barking orders, his voice sounding like a landslide of gravel. "Lash it tight! If the knot slips, you start over. If you stop pulling before the sun hits the ridge, you start over."
He wrapped the rope around the boulder, his paws fumbling with the coarse fibers. The hemp scratched his skin, but the urgency in Nero's eyes kept him moving. Once the knot was secure, Jairo braced his feet against the dirt and heaved. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. He felt the rope bite into his shoulder, the friction searing through his fur. Then, with a guttural snarl he didn't know he was capable of, he felt the boulder shift. It didn't slideso much as it groaned, fighting the earth.
The boulder moved an inch, then two, the sound of stone grinding against grit echoing in the quiet of the clearing. Jairo's lungs felt like they were being squeezed by a vice, and his vision began to blur at the edges, but there was a sudden, electric spark of satisfaction. He wasn't just a "twig" anymore. He was He was moving something that shouldn't have moved.
"Don't just pull with your arms, you idiot! Drive with your legs!" Nero's voice roared in his ear, startling Jairo so much that his grip slipped. The boulder surged forward, the tension snapping like a whip, and Jairo was sent sprawling face-first into the dirt.
He lay there for a moment, the taste of copper and soil filling his mouth. He could hear Harken laughing in the background, a sharp, irritating sound that fueled a sudden, hot flare of anger in his chest. Jairo pushed himself up, shaking the dirt from his snout. He didn't look at Harken; he looked at the rock. It was still there, mocking him with its stillness. He stepped back into the harness of the rope, his muscles screaming, and dug his claws deep into the earth to create an anchor.
The second pull was slower, more deliberate. Jairo focused on the feeling of his claws sinking into the loam, anchoring himself to the very world he was still trying to understand. He didn't just pull; he leaned his entire weight into the rope, his tail twitching violently for balance. The boulder gave way with a heavy, satisfying *thump*, sliding a full foot across the dirt. He didn't stop there. He lunged forward, gripping the rope again, his breath coming in ragged, guttural huffs that sounded more like a wild animal than a man.
If he wanted to live, that was what he needed to become.