“Again."
Sophia staggered, knife clattering into the snow.
“I said again."
Caesar's voice was flat, but not unkind.
She glared up at him from the frozen earth, chest heaving.
He offered no hand. Only stepped back and waited.
Her breath fogged between them.
She picked up the knife.
And lunged.
Wrong foot. Too slow.
He caught her wrist, twisted gently, and dropped her on her back for the third time that morning.
“This is pointless," she mouthed.
He crouched. “If you want to survive, you have to learn."
“I can't talk."
“Then fight louder."
She threw snow at his face.
He blinked, stunned.
Then barked out a laugh. “That's better."
---
The camp was hidden deep in the Blackpine Wilds, ringed by jagged peaks and silent wolves. Smoke curled from cookfires. Tents made of patched h
