Tanya’s POV
The training yard was almost empty after most people had retired for the day at the end of training, and the air felt a bit strange.
Not scary, exactly … it felt more like it was holding its breath.. and waiting for something.
Dante had left about an hour ago after trying and failing to make me promise I’d stop practicing my footwork for the day soon. He didn’t push when I didn’t agree…he just gave me that quiet look he always does before walking away.
The others had gone in for food, and even the noise from the mess hall was a bit muted. It left me alone with the dirt under my feet, the cool weight of the wooden practice stick in my hands, and the rhythm of my own breathing.
I was halfway through a footwork drill when I felt it.
That prickle that always meant one thing.
