The Sealed Wolf

CHAPTER 3: THE TOOLS OF THE WEAK

Bella woke the morning after her twenty-mile run and couldn't move.

Every muscle in her body was screaming and her legs felt like stone, even breathing hurt.

She forced herself out of bed anyway.

Rowan had said rest today, but Bella wanted to see the weapons.

She limped to the workshop, moving like someone three times her age.

Rowan looked up from the workbench. "You should be resting."

"I wanted to see them." Bella's eyes went to the table.

Weapons lay arranged across the surface. But not the ones Bella expected.

On the table there was a small, compact bow no longer than her forearm, a leather bracer with hidden compartments, thin metal darts, needles, vials of liquid, and one short sword, plain and functional.

"These?" Bella asked, confused. "Where are the real weapons?"

"These are real weapons." Rowan picked up the small bow. "This is a sleeve bow, a concealed weapon that can be worn on your left forearm, hidden under your clothing. Draw mechanism here." Rowan demonstrated, and with a quick flick of the wrist, and the bow extended, string taut. "The effective range is thirty paces, it is silent and deadly if you know where to aim."

Rowan collapsed the bow and handed it to Bella. "Try it."

Bella strapped the bracer to her left forearm. The bow sat flat against her arm, almost invisible under her sleeve.

She flicked her wrist like Rowan had shown.

Nothing happened.

"Hmm, try again but this time sharper."

Bella tried again, this time the bow extended with a soft click, the mechanism was spring-loaded, elegant.

"Good." Rowan picked up the darts. "These are throwing darts that are four inches long, they can be concealed in pockets, boots, sleeves. And when coated with poison, they'll drop a werewolf in minutes."

Bella took one, it felt light and perfectly balanced, while the tip was wickedly sharp.

"And these." Rowan held up the needles. Thin as wire and six inches long. "Assassination tools, that can be inserted into specific points on the body, base of skull, behind the ear, between ribs, they kill silently. Target drops dead and no one will know why."

Bella's stomach turned slightly, but she took the needles, examining them.

"And the sword?" she asked, looking at the short blade.

"Backup weapon, for when stealth fails." Rowan picked it up. The blade was two feet long, with a simple crossguard and a leather-wrapped handle. "Short sword, light enough for you to wield, and long enough to reach vital points, it is not meant for prolonged combat, but for quick kills and escape."

Rowan set the sword down and looked at Bella directly.

"You asked why these weapons," the druid said. "I'll tell you, you're twelve years old, and in the sight of others small and weak compared to adult werewolves, you can't win a fair fight, so we don't fight fair."

Rowan walked to the workbench and picked up one of the vials. "This is nightshade extract, with one drop on a dart or arrow, paralysis in seconds and death in minutes. No cure. At least to those below Alpha"

"Assassination," Bella said quietly.

"Survival." Rowan's voice was firm. "There's no honor in death, Bella. Only victory and defeat, living and dying. I don't care if you win fairly, I only care that you win."

Rowan set the vial down and picked up the sleeve bow again.

"A warrior with a greatsword might kill five enemies before being overwhelmed, an assassin with a poisoned dart can kill twenty without being seen." Rowan's gray eyes were cold. "Which one survives?"

"The assassin."

"Exactly." Rowan handed her the bow. "You're not training to be a warrior, you're training to be a survivor, someone who strikes from the shadows and disappears before anyone knows you were there."

Bella looked at the weapons laid out before her, the are small, hidden and deadly.

Tools of the survivor.

"When do we start?" she asked.

"Tomorrow, after your morning run." Rowan's expression was serious. "And Bella? From this day forward, you carry these weapons everywheren, even in the village, even when you sleep, they become part of your body. Understand?"

Bella nodded.

"Good, now go rest. Your body needs recovery."

Bella left the workshop, the sleeve bow still strapped to her arm under her sleeve.

**The next day.**

Bella finished her morning run, eight miles, and met Rowan at the training ground.

The druid had set up targets. The were straw dummies at various distances, wooden posts and hanging gourds.

"First lesson: the sleeve bow." Rowan gestured to Bella's left arm. "Draw it."

Bella flicked her wrist and the bow extended smoothly.

"Good, wow load an arrow." Rowan handed her a small bolt, shorter than a regular arrow, thicker shaft.

Bella fumbled with it. The loading mechanism was different from a normal bow.

"Slot goes here, click it in, there." Rowan guided her hands. "The bow holds three bolts. After three shots, you need to reload. So make them count."

Bella aimed at the nearest target, twenty paces away.

"Breath control," Rowan said. "Inhale, exhale halfway. Hold. Release on empty lungs."

Bella breathed, aimed and released.

The bolt went wide but it missed the target by two feet.

"Again."

She tried again, closer, but still missed.

"Again."

The third shot hit the target's outer edge, but still a hit.

"Better." Rowan walked to the target and pointed to the center. "But this is where you need to aim, center mass for body shots, throat for quick kills, eyes if you're close enough and desperate."

They drilled for hours.

From Loading to aiming, shooting and repeat.

By midday, Bella's left arm ached from holding the bow extended. Her fingers were raw from the string.

But she was hitting the center target more often than not.

"Enough with stationary targets," Rowan said. "Now we add movement."

Rowan picked up a stick and threw it high in the air.

"Shoot."

Bella tried and issed completely.

Rowan threw another. "Again."

Miss.

"Again."

Miss.

They continued until Bella finally hit one. The bolt pierced the stick mid-air, sending it spinning.

"Good." Rowan's voice held approval. "Moving targets are harder, but most enemies won't stand still for you, keep practicing."

**Afternoon.**

Rowan switched to throwing darts.

"Grip like this, two fingers, and weight balanced." The druid demonstrated, throwing a dart at a target thirty feet away.

It embedded dead center.

"Your turn."

Bella tried, he dart tumbled in the air and bounced off the target.

"You're throwing too hard, it's not about force. It's about technique." Rowan picked up another dart. "Watch,you start with a smooth motion, let your wrist snap at the end and let the dart's weight do the work."

Rowan threw again, perfect hit.

Bella copied the motion, better, but still off-center.

"Again."

They drilled until sunset.

Throwing from different distances and different angles, overhead, sidearm and underhand.

By the end, Bella could hit a man-sized target from twenty feet, not always center mass, but close enough to wound.

"Good start," Rowan said. "But you need to practice daily, muscle memory. Until you can throw in the dark, while running, or injured."

"And the needles?" Bella asked.

"Tomorrow, needles require anatomical knowledge. I need to teach you where to strike." Rowan gestured to the workshop. "Come, I'll show you."

Inside the workshop, Rowan unrolled a large piece of parchment,it showed a human body, front and back, with dozens of points marked in red ink.

"These are kill points," Rowan said. "Insert a needle here," pointing to the base of the skull and death is instant, it severs the spinal cord and the target will drop like a puppet with cut strings."

Rowan's finger moved to another point. "Here, behind the ear, punctures the brain stem, and it has the same result. Instant death."

More points, etween ribs, aimed at the heart, then the hollow of the throat, the kidney and the femoral artery in the thigh.

"Needles are for close work," Rowan continued. "When you're inches from your target, silent kills that cause no struggle. They die before they realize they've been struck."

Bella studied the diagram, memorizing each point.

"You'll practice on dummies first," Rowan said. "Then, when you're ready, on live targets."

"Live targets?"

"Beasats, wolves and cats." Rowan's voice was matter-of-fact. "You need to know how it feels to kill, the resistance of flesh, the way a body reacts, practice dummies don't teach you that."

Bella swallowed hard. "When?"

"When you can hit every kill point on the dummy with your eyes closed." Rowan rolled up the parchment. "Until then, we drill."

**Three months later.**

Bella was standing in the forest, perfectly still.

A deer was grazing thirty paces away, unaware.

Her left hand rested casually at her side, the sleeve bow was hidden under her shirt, loaded and ready.

She'd been tracking this deer for some minutes now, waiting for the perfect moment.

The deer's head lowered to eat.

Bella's wrist flicked, he bow extended, she drew and released in one smooth motion.

The bolt struck the deer's neck, and it was a perfect shot, it severed the artery.

The deer took two steps and collapsed.

Dead in seconds, painless.

Bella collapsed the bow and walked over, knelt beside the animal.

She pulled the bolt free and cleaned it.

Bella heard footsteps behind her.

"Clean kill," Rowan said. "Good shot."

"It was standing still."

"Most targets will be, the smart assassin waits for the right moment, patience is a weapon too." Rowan knelt beside the deer. "Field dress it, we'll have venison tonight."

While Bella worked, Rowan spoke.

"You've been training for nine months now, your foundation is solid, your weapons skills are developing. But you're still weak in direct combat."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to fight directly."

"You're not, but sometimes you don't get a choice." Rowan stood. "Next month, we start close-quarters combat training, how to fight when someone gets past your ranged weapons, how to use that short sword and how to kill with your hands if you're disarmed."

Bella looked up from the deer. "I thought the weapons were supposed to keep me from getting close to enemies."

"yes but plans fail, and weapons can break, while you can also be ambushed." Rowan's voice was serious. "You need to know how to fight at every range, distance, mid-range, and close. Otherwise, you're only half-trained."

Bella nodded and went back to field dressing the deer.

Nine months of training, her body was stronger, her aim was improving, while her knowledge of poisons and anatomy was extensive.

But she still had so much to learn.

The seal on her shoulder blade pulsed, representing a reminder.

Every full moon, it cracked a little more. Rowan reinforced it each time, but the cracks were getting worse, he golden lines spreading further through the wolf-bound pattern.

It felt that time was running out, she needed to be ready.

**That night.**

Bella lay in bed, the sleeve bow strapped to her left arm, the short sword hung on the wall beside her, darts and needles hidden in pouches under her pillow.

The seal burned with its usual dull ache, worse during full moons, but always present.

Bella pressed her hand against it and wondered how much longer she had before it shattered completely.

Three years, Rowan had said when she was twelve.

Two years and three months left.

Maybe less.

She wondered if she will be ready.

Bella closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

In her dreams, she saw shadows moving through trees, and a pair of eyes watching from the darkness.