Loren’s POV
The field was already loud before I stepped into it.
Not loud in a chaotic way at first—just that steady build of movement and impact that always came before something serious. Boots dragging through dirt, short bursts of laughter that never fully relaxed in comfort, the sound of bodies testing themselves like that were trying to remind each other what tomorrow meant without saying it.
The match with Sablethorn was postponed to tomorrow.
The air felt heavier because of it.
I stepped fully into the field and rolled my shoulders once, scanning the space.
Members of the pack spread across the field in loose formation. No formal lines, no neat structure, just pairs forming, breaking, shifting again. That was how we trained. Constant motion. Constant correction.
Zeke was just
