Morning sunlight stretched across the oval training grounds, warm enough to invite students outside after their morning lectures. The ground had recently been watered, patches of darker soil still wet beneath the sharp sunlight. The air carried the familiar mix of grass, dust, and the metallic tang of wolf pheromones from students already shifting in preparation for their drills. It was the official weekly training day for werewolf combat practice, a day Mia now dreaded—not because she feared wolves, but because she knew she stood out among them. A lone human among wolves always felt like prey.
Still, she walked toward the open bleachers along the side lines, hands tucked into the pockets of her black hoodie. Her body wasn't completely back to normal from the poisoning incident—she could still feel the faint ache behind her stomach, that burning echo left behind by the toxin. But it wasn't enough to keep her in bed. She was determined to act normal.
Mia never wanted to be pitied.
