The walk back from the training field felt longer than usual. Every step was a battle against the leaden weight in my limbs and the sharp, rhythmic protest of my lungs. My training blade was strapped to my back, a heavy reminder of a strength I was desperate to reclaim.
I was nearly at the edge of the clearing when the atmosphere shifted.
A shoulder collided with mine not a brush, but a targeted, violent strike that sent me staggering. I twisted instinctively, my hand flying to the hilt of my practice sword, but the wolf who hit me didn't even pause. He kept walking, his laughter joining the low murmurs of the crowd.
The respect was gone. I could feel it in the way they looked at me—not as a peer, but as an obstacle.
Before I could recover my footing, a tall warrior stepped int
