"Boris, increase patrol near the eastern and southern perimeters. I am sensing quite a few openings in these areas." She taps the scaled map clipped to the whiteboard with a metal pointer, beaded reading glasses upon her nose bridge.
"Yes, Alpha." The Minotaur dips his head. "I will delegate Ezra to the east and Samphren to the south."
"Kelli, we have a sudden influx of Druxelle refugees, and I want background checks on all of them. Too many foreigners can be disastrous."
"I will get right on it."
"As for you eight," Alpha Chantel whips around, hands clasped behind her back. "I will take it easy on you today. Your assignment is to sit in on the academy training sessions and offer the cadets your wisdom. Meeting adjourned...for all except you, Number One."
"I will wait for you outside." Jaxon whispers, brushing his knuckles against the back of my hand as he walks past me.
"Do not bother." I snatch away, watching him through my peripheral and his expression softens for only a fraction before he remembers himself.
The rest of the round table is abandoned with haste, leaving my grandmother and I alone in the office. Her lavish fragrance slithers into my nostrils as she stalks towards me, a true measure of hierarchy. "So tell me, how are you holding up being of the highest rank in The Elite?"
I mull over the question, replaying the last twenty-eight days in my head. The rigorous training. The vast load of new responsibilities. The secretive envy and bitterness from observing outsiders. It is a lot, but nothing that I cannot handle. I am of the Woodsen bloodline, which means that I am no stranger to hard work or pedestals.
"I have been well."
"Excellent." Alpha Chantel's full lips almost transform into a prideful grin. "Remember, you were chosen to be a part of The Elite for your skill, not because you are my granddaughter. Therefore, it is imperative that you improve or at least maintain it. Airoclaw will not have anything less than amazing examples of leadership. That is all."
"Of course. Good day, Alpha." I bow my head just before she turns around and clicks to her desk in high heels designed with miniature silver swords that stab the floor.
"Oh, and Alezah?" She sings,
I pause, fingers wrapped around the gold door knob. "I do love you, my darling. I just have to make sure that my empire is thriving as well."
"To the Moon Goddess and back, grandmother."
***** ☽ *****
"Attention!" Sergeant Reeves shouts, and the unit of cadets becomes more organized. They keep their eyes forward as he stalks them row by row. "Khalon Shallor's reign has further perpetuated the stereotype of werewolves being brainless dogs. Today you all will prove whether or not you fit that description by battling each other. Without any weaponry."
"In your human forms." Sergeant Thatcher spits into the grass. "You get one point for winning the match, and then another for simply not shifting. All great warriors have great discipline. We are here to distinguish them from the mediocre ones, and from the ones who just flat out suck."
A slight twitch comes over the cadets' faces as they process the rules. This will be tough. Hand to hand combat is not as natural in lycanthropy as ripping out your opponent's throat with your incisors. An amused chuckle leaks from Chief Johnson's mouth because he knows it too.
"Being that this is not an official clash, fatally wounding your opponent is also prohibited. The objective is to win while showing restraint. Pin them to the ground for at least twelve seconds without your wolf surfacing and you have passed." The Chief explains, clicking the end of his ballpoint pen. "It is not rocket science."
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Indra's Heart
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