Chapter Four

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I was running late again. Sleep had been scarce; my mind spent the night pelting a never-ending barrage of 'what if's' at me, and my imagination had run rampant with all the different scenarios of how the day could've gone better. When sleep did finally wrap me up in its tender arms, my alarm started blaring, and I'd snoozed it to within an inch of its life, which resulted in me arriving at the training grounds only a few moments before the War Chief. Reva cast her eyes in my direction as she walked to the front of the crowd, head tilting in a curt nod as I met her gaze.

I tuned out as she began her daily speech, fiddling with the charm on my bow. The War Chief always liked to inspire her budding warriors by telling tales of her adventures on the battlefield, her daring escapes and cunning plans. For the longest time, her stories inspired me, and I'd imagined myself in her place – cutting down rogues, fighting off wild animals, and going on grand adventures. I still fantasised about an adventure of my own, but that dream was now further out of reach, thanks to my stupidity. With a defeated sigh, I scanned the crowd for Ryen and Varl.

Varl's face split into a grin as our eyes met, and he waved me over to where he and Ryen were standing. I'd be lying if I said Varl wasn't handsome, with his dark skin and smoldering gaze, but he was like a brother to me. I grew up with him hanging around our house all the time. He and Ryen were best friends since childhood, and because I'd spent the majority of my time following Ryen around, Varl and I had grown close as well.

"Look who finally made it," Varl said, bumping my shoulder with his. I swatted him away.

"Are you done acting like a baby?" Ryen asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I dunno," I replied. "Are you done being a jerk?"

My brother's eyes flashed in annoyance and he took a step towards me, but Varl moved between us, diffusing the tension.

"Fox can train with me today," he said.

"Really?" I asked, surprised at the offer.

"Sure, why not?" Varl smiled at me. "You might even learn a thing or two."

"I don't know," Ryen said, unsure. "She should be doing laps."

"C'mon Ry." Varl was strong in his conviction. "You won't have to keep an eye on her this way."

"I don't need a babysitter," I interjected, but Varl silenced me with a look.

My brother looked torn, not liking the idea of me training with Varl, but unable to think of a reason to say no. Finally, Ryen conceded, pinching the bridge of his nose the same way our father did when he was exasperated. "Fine, but take it easy on her."

"I think it's Siora you should give that warning to," Varl replied. "You know I bruise easily."

It was Ryen's turn to roll his eyes, and he punched Varl on the arm.

"Ouch!" Varl feigned being injured, falling to the ground dramatically and cradling his bicep.

"Such a drama queen," Ryen muttered, walking away.

Varl was back up once Ryen was out of earshot, giving me a goofy grin. "Alright, Fox," he said, clapping his hands. "What do you want to do?"

I pointed towards the centre of the field where the sparring circles were set up. A pair of junior warriors already occupied one, working on technique.

"I need to beat the shit out of something," I said, taking off at a brisk pace towards the circles. My emotions from the day before were still high, and anger seeped from my pores – I needed a release. Sparring with Varl would be cathartic therapy.

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