Chapter 32
(Lenora POV)
I watch from the porch, sipping a mug of nettle tea while my mate gets absolutely wrecked by my father.
To be fair—it's not as bad as it was when they started.
Cameron's improved. He's not flailing as much. His stance is better, his breathing more controlled. He doesn't complain or whine, even when he's slammed into the grass for the fourth time in ten minutes. I admire the tenacity.
Most wolves, by now, would've tapped out. Cried uncle. Or snapped and lost their temper. But not him. He gets up. Again and again.
And he doesn't even know how impressive that is.
I mean, come on—he's sparring with Eamon Maen. Five-time pit champion. There's no wolf stronger, meaner, or more battle-scarred in the whole damn region. If Dad hadn't stepped down, he'd still be winning every fight he walked into blindfolded.
So yes. Cameron's doing better than anyone could've expected. Even if Dad is pulling his punches, it's still enough to level a grown grizzly.
