Just as Oliver instructed me, I've returned to the training grounds. I've been here for at least twenty minutes ever since the sun went down. Or at least I've been here long enough to get tired of standing and take a seat on the cold ground and support my back against the smoother edge of the wooden dummy from earlier.
The night air is colder than it was this morning; the wind chill makes it seem cooler, but I don't mind it. Most fox-shifters dislike the nights as they get chillier, but I haven't had much of a problem with them. Other than being treated like the plague and shunned from the rest of the skulk. In all honesty, the cold is somewhat soothing for my skin that always seems to be on fire.
I scratch a single nail at the ground, "How long is he going to make me wait?"
With a huff
