Yesterday, three days since Alan started training me, I finished my three trips around the hill. Today, Alan asks me to run up and down the hill with his other students. He tells me to take it easy on my first time. So I do.
As soon as we all start to run up the hills the other wolves just bolt for the top, while I take it slow.
However, even in my laid-back running form I catch up to Frank's grey wolf. He stops to take a break. He's completely out of breath. I stand in front of him. He ignores me and starts walking up the hill. He's not only not a runner but also a bad one at that. I look behind him and see his paw marks. They are deep. He seems to run with too much pressure on each of his steps.
If you run like that you'll exhaust yourself too soon. On the other hand, my paw prints are almost non-existent.
I walk beside him. He still doesn't look at me but doesn't seem bothered by my presence either. When he picks up his speed I run with him. He runs straight for about fifteen more minutes and then stops for a break. I can hear the others turning back at the top. Their footsteps are too loud. It's as if they are stepping on every twig and dry leaf on purpose.
While I'm listening to where the others are, Frank looks at me. When I turn back to look at him, he looks away. I know what he's thinking. How is she not out of breath? With three more breaks, Frank and I manage to reach the top and return to the bottom of the hill.
Alan wraps up our training sooner today, so all the trainees decide to head to the main training area where Quentin will be training his students. I walk beside Frank while on our way. "Did Alan ever tell you, you put too much pressure on your steps?" For a second I thought Frank wouldn't reply but he does, "He did."
"What did you do about it?" I ask.
"I try not to put too much pressure on my limbs while running," he says.
"It doesn't look like it's working though," I say.
He slightly smiles. "No. It doesn't."
"I can help you," I tell him.
"How?" he asks.
"You know Derek's farm near the dock? That's where I'm staying. Come there tomorrow evening. I'll help you practice lessen the pressure on your feet."
"Why?" he says. I shrug. "I've nothing else to do." Tomorrow is our day off from practice.
"Okay," he says.
The training ground is no less grandiose than a colosseum.
"Wow," I say.
"It's impressive isn't it?" Frank asks.
"It looks like something out of the gladiator movie."
He laughs. "This one however is more bloodier," he says.
He's right. There are a lot of one on one fights going on, and either one or both the opponents look bloody. Good thing werewolves heal faster or else every single one of them here would've to be admitted to an ER immediately.
At the center is a separate circle. That's where Roger and Dalton are. It's been a while since I'd seen Roger fight, and he looks as impressive as ever doing it now. Involuntarily I smile.
We reach the audience deck at the right.
"That's Quentin," Frank says as he nods his head towards a stern looking and hefty man at the center of it all. Quentin reminds me of Mr. Bosworth right away. "He looks scary," I say.
