Frank
I could feel the air in the training grounds getting electric with anticipation. Warriors from both packs were gathered around. Their eager murmurs were blending into their excitement.
I stood in the middle of the sparring ring and rolled my shoulders as I removed my shirt. Then I tossed it carelessly to the side. My muscles flexed beneath the morning light. Years of training and discipline were evident in my every movement. Without hesitation, I reached down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and rubbed it between my hands. It was an old habit. Something I always did before a fight. It was a way to ground myself and to feel connected to the earth beneath me.
Across from me, Logan followed suit, though he took his time to peel off his shirt with far more flair than necessary. The moment
