Wildborn

Not Bad New Girl

The sky was still dark when Bri’s alarm buzzed softly at 4:45 A.M.

She rolled out of bed with a groan, stretching her stiff limbs before changing into the new black training leggings and cropped top she’d bought two days prior. Pulling her hair up into a messy bun and tying her running shoes, she then grabbed a water bottle and a banana from the small kitchenette in their apartment and slipped quietly into the hallway.

Outside, the world was slowly waking. The Montana sky was painted in hushed purples and deep slate blues. The silhouette of the mountains framed the east, where the first strokes of gold and coral hinted at the approaching sunrise. The air was cool, crisp, and smelled faintly of pine and promise.

As she approached the training grounds, the quiet began to break with the sounds of movement; grunts, soft conversation, and the rhythmic thump of feet against packed earth. The weight room was a long stone-and-timber structure flanking a wide-open stretch of field.

Inside, it was sleek and modern. Full-length mirrors lined the longest walls, reflecting the crisp morning light that filtered through narrow upper windows. Four squat rack stations stood evenly spaced along the right wall, each one anchored on black platform flooring with color-coded bumper plates neatly organized on pegs. Resistance bands hung from pegs beside them, and adjustable safety bars gleamed under the overhead lights.

In the far-left corner, a free weight station sprawled across a matted area while two long rows of dumbbells arranged by weight sat in front of another mirrored wall. Adjustable benches were neatly aligned nearby, allowing for everything from incline presses to core work.

Directly ahead, a multi-functional rig stretched across the back wall, complete with pull-up bars at varying heights, gymnastic rings, and anchor points for TRX straps. Kettlebells and medicine balls were lined up beneath it, organized by color and weight.

The center of the room remained open for dynamic movement, sled pushes, battle ropes, or bodyweight circuits, and turf cutting through the floor in a wide strip. A large, industrial-style clock hung above the entrance; ticking steadily.

This place is an SEC Coach's dream, Bri thought to herself.

She was directed toward a group labeled 14-18, where about a half dozen other wolves were stretching or warming up. The energy was high but informal.

It wasn’t long before she pieced together the unspoken reality: this group wasn’t the elite warriors. These were the ones who needed additional strength or endurance work. Maybe they were late bloomers. Maybe, like her, they were new or still proving themselves.

Beta Antonio’s being cautious, Eira chimed in.

Making sure I don’t crumble before the Lumen Praxis even starts. Bri scoffed.

A tall, curly-haired boy who looked about 16 offered her a nod. "First day?"

"Yeah."

"Stick near us. We rotate circuits. I’m Keenan."

Keenan had tan skin, mischievous eyes, and a cocky sort of energy. His movements were fluid, like he was made for speed, not strength.

"That’s Myla," he added, pointing to a tall girl with mocha skin and tight coiled hair pulled into a high puff. Myla gave a short wave.

"Over there’s Avi and West. They’re twins." Avi was wiry, constantly shifting her weight. West was more grounded, solemn.

"And the youngest," Keenan grinned, "is Finley, Fin for short. Fourteen, loud, and fast."

"Hi!" Fin chirped, bounding up with a grin. She had wild auburn hair and freckles across her cheeks.

Before much more socializing could occur, the instructor, a gruff, squat woman named Rhea, called them to start. The warm-up was intense: a mile at 50% effort, high knees, burpees, push-ups, timed planks, followed by another mile at 80% effort. Then came rotations: deadlifts, overhead presses, kettlebell swings, sled pushes.

Bri kept pace. Thanking her lucky stars for weight and endurance training throughout the summer with Meg.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she felt strong. Capable. Seen.

When the session ended, Fin tugged her sleeve. "That was intense, and I don't know about you but I am famished. Come to breakfast with me. I’ll show you the dining hall!"

Bri followed Fin toward the main building, entering through a wide double doorway into the stunning great room she had found the day before. The Packhouse dining room was an architectural blend of rustic charm and communal energy. Vaulted ceilings with dark wooden beams and sunlight spilling through arched skylights.

Dozens of long, sturdy tables stretched the length of the hall in neat rows, their benches filled with wolves who lived in the packhouse, teen and young adult wolves involved in conditioning and training, and a mix of elders and children scattered throughout. Shoulders brushing as they laughed, bickered, and tore into their meals. The chatter was a constant hum, punctuated by bursts of laughter, clinking silverware, and the occasional howl of approval for someone’s storytelling or a well-landed joke.

Against one of the long side walls, the buffet was a feast in motion. Large wooden counters held an impressive spread, and the kitchen itself was set behind the buffet wall, separated by a swinging double door. Through brief gaps, the clang of pots and the rhythmic chopping of knives could be heard, as cooks shouted instructions and moved with practiced urgency to keep the food flowing.

At the far end of the room sat a slightly elevated table positioned on a wide wooden platform.

The ranked table.

There she spotted familiar faces: Alpha Marcos; broad, commanding, silver at his temples, Luna Isabella; regal and serene, Sera, chatting animatedly to Soriah who sat poised and expressionless. Beta Antonio, looking amused as his three young children ran around the table while Cami, his graceful mate, was trying to wrangle them with patient smiles. Gamma Matteo, laughing with what

Bri assumed was his mate: a petite woman with storm-gray eyes. And then a man and woman she hadn’t met, both tall, serious, flanked by two identical boys who looked about 13.

Fin leaned in. "That’s Delta Vincenzo and his mate, Petra. And those twins are Nox and Nico. They’re scary smart."

They grabbed trays and loaded them up at the buffet. The breakfast spread was magical: fluffy eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, fruit platters, pancakes, and fresh bread. Bri poured orange juice and followed Fin to a long table where Keenan, Myla, Avi, and West were already seated.

She barely sat before the questions began.

"Where’d you move from?"

"Did you live in a previous pack?"

"How long until your shift?"

Before she could respond, Sera appeared.

"Bri! Come on, we’ve gotta change and get to combat training."

The table went quiet.

Myla blinked. "You know Sera?"

"I met her when I arrived, and we went shopping yesterday," Bri said.

"Seriously?" Keenan said, clearly impressed.

Sera waved. "Let’s go. The arena’s no joke."

They changed into training fatigues and walked across the grounds to a circular arena, cut into the earth like an inlaid coliseum. The walls were layered stone, lined with racks of weapons: swords, staffs, axes, maces, and stranger shapes too.

Delta Vincenzo stood at the center, flanked by two warriors serving as assistants.

His voice boomed. "Today we rotate through weapon familiarity, then partner sparring, and we end with open challenge. Choose wisely who you test."

Sera nudged Bri. "That means you can call anyone out. Or get called. All in good fun and the spirit of friendly competition of course!"

They started at the racks for weapon familiarity. Bri sampled a few weapons. A short sword that she felt was just too balanced, that and she really didn't know what to do with the hand that didn't have the sword. A bo staff. Fun, but she lacked finesse and almost smacked herself in the face on more than one occasion. Throwing knives. Accurate, but in a weird way, not satisfying enough.

Then she found them: the Wind and Fire Wheels. Two flat metal rings. One third of the rim had curved flame-shaped blades. The rest was smooth, with a padded grip and a cross-guard.

She slipped one on each hand. The weight was perfect. The movement felt natural; s***h, parry, hook, spin.

Tron, she thought suddenly to Eira, remembering her stepfather David’s favorite movie. She smiled.

"Cool choice," Sera said. "Rare. Deadly."

Next they paired off. Sera volunteering to spar with Bri to get a gauge on her skill level.

Sera moved like water. She was fluid, agile, powerful. Her footwork was sharp, her stance balanced, and her body coiled with control. She stepped in with a feint to Bri’s left, then pivoted into a real strike from the right, aiming a sharp jab toward Bri’s shoulder. Bri blocked with a raised forearm, the impact sending a jolt through her.

Bri responded with a low sweep, testing Sera’s balance. Sera leapt back smoothly, barely giving ground, then lunged forward with a spinning hook kick that Bri ducked just in time.

Their movements were a study in contrast, Sera’s finesse versus Bri’s raw athleticism. Bri closed the distance, shoulder-checking Sera off balance and stepping in with a rapid series of body feints and elbow strikes, which Sera parried one by one with swift arm blocks.

They circled each other, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on their foreheads.

Sera darted forward again, this time with a combination of a front kick and palm strike. Bri caught the kick on her thigh and twisted to the side, redirecting Sera’s momentum. She followed it up with a sudden hip toss, but Sera countered mid-throw, locking her legs around Bri’s waist and using the motion to land upright again.

"You can stop going easy," Bri said, stepping back to reset her stance.

Sera blinked. Then smirked. "Fine."

The next three exchanges were a blur. Bri ducked, rolled, launched into a flying knee strike, only for Sera to twist and redirect her midair, forcing Bri to land hard and tumble to her feet. Bri surged up, grabbed Sera’s wrist, and pulled her into a grapple, only to find herself flipped and pinned to the mat with Sera's knee lightly pressed to her chest.

They froze.

Breathing hard.

Neither victorious

You held back too, Eira murmured with a mental eye roll.

Across the field, Soriah had entered.

She watched the end of the exchange, her eyes narrowing.

Bri's holding back, Nashehni said.

Soriah crossed her arms. Why?

She approached Vincenzo.

"She should be moved to Advanced Combat," Soriah said quietly pointing at Bri. "End of the week."

Vincenzo studied Bri.

"We’ll see."

Training ended with sparring chaos. Dozens of wolves testing, battling, calling out challenges. Bri stayed on the sidelines, watching and absorbing. It seemed she had been given a pass among the other participants, recognizing her first day on the field.

Sera joined her after a while, wiping sweat from her face.

"Not bad, new girl."

"You either," Bri replied.

They laughed.

Together they walked back toward the dining hall to enjoy a lunch of grilled chicken, roasted veggies, wild rice, and cold fruit smoothies.

Bri ate with a hunger she hadn’t realized she’d built up, and even went back for seconds.

Later, she returned to the East Wing.

Her mom was asleep on the couch, her face looked more peaceful than it had in days.

Bri smiled, tiptoed to her room, and hopped into the shower.

The water refreshed her, rinsing away the sweat and adrenaline.

She changed into clean clothes, grabbed her messenger bag, and headed back out.

Bri set off for Medicum prep with a spring in her step, hoping the second half of her day was just as gratifying as the first.