Burning

Chapter THIRTEEN

Imagine an arrow. Imagine a perfect line, no curvature, a spine stretched to the limit, the fluid movement of a nail the second after it cracks seamlessly into the yielding wall. Do. Not. Deviate.

All four feet were gathered, hind toes gripping the smooth ice, coiling and then- explosion forward. He opened his jaw wide, not thinking about what that meant only what he had to do and do it right.

He felt hair and skin slip but still a bright pop and tang of copper. Chris went skidding past. He kicked out a leg to slow the spin. He was panting and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, starting to drool. In this form he couldn't spit the blood and flecks of hair from his lips and gums.

"You made a mark." Mariah examined the freshly severed cow's head held casually in one palm. The tongue lolled with a grotesque length and Chris wished he didn't need to Hold and could slip peacefully into the dimmer mind of a wolf. But training would never allow that.

She tapped the small scratch his teeth had left. "But I feel like you can do better. So do better. Do I teach play time or do I teach you to kill?"

Oh. Thanks for the help. If he knew how to position his unwieldly jaw or just when to leap from the extra feet already he wouldn't be training.

Almost as though she were reading his mind Mariah narrowed her eyes. "You flinched. Stop flinching and you'll tear out the trachea easily."

He licked away the drool, trying to keep the wobbling from his legs. He had no idea how long they'd been out there and he'd only managed to catch the moving target a footful of times.

"Sugar, I drained it the best I could. By the way, what kind of wolf doesn't enjoy blood?"

He flattened his ears. Then, one ear went forward.

"No- you can't quit. You need this cani. I want to be impressed. Bite?"

He grumbled and sat down.

"My ass if freezing too. One more time. Keep in mind, you will have to prove you can kill with teeth in the future and if you keep flinching it's only going to prolong 'ole Bessie's suffering. Do it right." Her voice went sickeningly high. "Tink of da poor aminal."

Chris dropped his head. He'd been thinking about how much he hated this, not of why it was important to do well. Once again Mariah held the dead thing at chest level, swinging it gently in a frighteningly poor imitation of a cow grazing.

For some reason, soccer practice came to mind. His coach telling him to visualize what needed to be done. You've done the work, now let your body do what its prepared for. The problem was it made black spots appear before his eyes to think about what he was doing right now in detail. Part of the reason Mariah had him do this as a wolf. It was harder to faint with your heart so close your brain. Think of the poor animal. In fact, don't think of anything else. Put it down.

Chris bolted forward, as always amazed at how it felt to run at this speed. His legs coiled again, eyes on the throat, pictured the spurt of blood and- missed. This time he didn't land on his feet and ended up rolling until the frost-dried bushes caught him.

"HALLOW." Mariah cursed loudly, throwing down the cow head. She crouched down next to him where he had a paw over his aching head. "One day you're going to wish you'd made an effort. Socing whelp- its time to go inside." She snapped her fingers. "Bren time."

He gave her a reproachful look, panting hard and lifted a shaking paw. Give me a second to recover.

"No. No time. Let's go. Can't even bite a dead..." she was leaving.