Five

867 37 8
                                    

The orange glow of the sunset that poured in through the window of the loft reflected across my damp skin. It gave the illusion that my body was protected by some sort of layer of light. It disappeared as I shifted, Lori's smaller frame casting a shadow that seemingly exposed me.

We circled each other, both of our hands wrapped protectively as we sparred for today's portion of her training. Usually, I didn't take such a measure for myself, but Lori wasn't used to the feeling of unkind knuckles against her skin, and I wanted her to learn how to do things the right way, unlike me. 

She panted lowly, doing her best to keep her growing fatigue to herself as we'd been doing this for a few hours already. I saw it through it, able to feel in her movements how restless she was becoming. I strike at her face, pulling my punch at the last second, being sure not to actually hit her. I only tap her head so she would understand her mistake.

"You need to block," I reprimand her, because even though her hands were up they were hardly in their proper positions, easy to slip past.

"I did," she argues, stubborn as ever.

I don't mind the attitude, simply chuckling at her response. 

Working with Lori made me think of Allison often. The two of them were amusingly similar when it came to training. When Allison was new to hunting and I had been the one to help her expand her defensive techniques. To put it simply, she was a terrible student. She was headstrong and cocky, and her attitude always got her thrown on the mat within a second. Lori was the same with her unyielding resilience and occasional high-strung behavior. Teaching her typically became bittersweet.

"Block better," Brett interjects as he sits on the couch off to the side, leaning all the way back into the cushions. He watches us like we're a program on cable, only here to entertain him.

He would usually join Lori during her training sessions to observe. On occasion, he'd spew a piece of commentary that was almost never helpful. I use almost very generously. 

"Does he have to be here?" Lori huffs, ignoring her brother.

"I heard that." Brett's tone is insulted.

"Obviously," Lori snaps without looking at him, not backing down. I laugh as I hit her fists with my own, reclaiming her attention.

"Focus."

She nods and gets back into position, keeping her arms raised properly this time. I give her the motion to strike me, and she does, her tiny fists carrying some serious weight to them as they jab at my forearms. I keep my arms up to protect my face as she continues her attack, giving her a chance to gain confidence with her efforts while also showing her what I'd define a proper blocking technique as.

She gets arrogant fast, though, and steps back to give me a kick to the side to show off. I catch her leg in a fluid motion and keep it tucked against me with a blank face that borders on disappointment. 

Lori grunts, trying to pull her leg free.

"You can't leave yourself open like that," I say before dropping her leg. Her own struggling momentum causes her to fall back on her butt.

She lets out a frustrated breath as she allows the rest of her body to sink completely to the floor, splaying herself out across the concrete. She closes her eyes and I can tell she's purely focusing on all she did wrong rather than anything she did right.

"How about we call it a day?" I suggest, making the young wolf snap upward, her posture rigid as she tries to play off her previous display of exhaustion.

"I can keep going."

"You're tired," I counter matter-of-factly.

"I'm not, really," she says, trying to convince me lamely.

Alone • Liam DunbarWhere stories live. Discover now