The first light of dawn spilled through the crimson curtains of the training hall, scattering across the polished wooden floor where Dante and Liora stood facing each other. Dust motes danced in the air, glinting like fireflies around the two wolves locked in motion.
Dante's shirt clung to his chest, every muscle flexing under sweat and control, his eyes sharp as molten gold. Liora's breath came in steady bursts, her stance low, focused, feral. The echo of their feet striking the ground filled the hall as they sparred, each move testing the other's instinct.
"Again," Dante said, circling her, his tone low, commanding.
Liora lunged, her claws halfway extended, catching his wrist and twisting. He reversed, using his weight to flip her, but she landed cat-like, smirking up at him.
"You're getting better," he said.
"Better than you?" she teased.
Dante's smile was faint, dangerous. "Not yet."
She kicked at his shin, fast but he caught her ankle midair, spun her around, and pinned her against the wall in a single fluid move. Their breaths mingled, heat radiating between them. His voice dropped to a growl near her ear.
"Now you're just provoking me."
Her lips curved. "I like provoking you."
A smile passed in his eyes, something between desire and respect before he released her. They both stepped back, tension coiling in the silence that followed.
Minutes later, they sat beneath a tree near the sparring field, sharing roasted venison and fruits from a nearby tray. Liora bit into an apple, eyes half closed, savoring the taste, while Dante leaned back, studying her.
"You fight with instinct, not rage," he said. "That's rare for someone who's been through what you have."
She shrugged. "Rage makes you reckless. Instinct makes you win."
Dante smiled faintly, tearing a piece of meat. "You sound like an Alpha."
"Maybe I was meant to be one," she said, her gaze meeting his.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The forest hummed around them, birds calling, wind brushing through leaves. Then Dante stood abruptly, brushing his hands on his pants.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"Hunting." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Let's make it interesting."
Liora rose, intrigued. "How interesting?"
"If you bring down more game than I do," he said, smirking, "I'll grant you any request. No matter what it is."
Liora arched a brow. "Anything?"
He nodded. "Anything."
Her lips curved into a confident smile. "Then I accept."
***
The forest stretched wide and wild, a sea of shadow and scent. They moved side by side, shifting effortlessly between human and wolf form when the terrain demanded it. The ground was cool and damp beneath their feet, the scent of pine sharp in the air.
Dante led them through a ravine, silent and alert, eyes scanning the undergrowth. Liora followed a few paces behind, her steps soundless, her senses tuned to every rustle.
When the wind shifted, she caught it, the musky trail of a stag. Her pupils dilated. Dante caught it too. Their eyes met.
"Yours," he whispered.
Liora nodded, crouching low. She moved like liquid shadow through the brush, her body melting into the rhythm of the forest. Every sound around her sharpened, the heartbeat of prey, the distant caw of crows, the whisper of grass.
Then she saw it, a stag with massive antlers, grazing near a stream. Its breath fogged the cool air.
Liora drew her dagger slowly, her body poised like a predator ready to strike. One step, then another. The stag's ear twitched. She froze.
A leaf fell.
She lunged.
The stag bolted, but she was faster, darting between trees, leaping over roots, muscles burning as she drove the dagger through its neck. The animal stumbled, fell, and stilled.
Liora stood over it, chest heaving, blood staining her hands. There was a wild satisfaction in her eyes, not cruelty, but power.
When she looked up, Dante was watching from a distance, leaning against a tree, his expression unreadable.
"Impressive," he said when she approached, dragging the stag with ease. "But don't celebrate yet. I'm not done."
He shifted then, bones cracking, fur sprouting as his wolf form emerged, massive, dark as midnight. Liora stepped back, awe flickering in her gaze as Dante bolted into the trees, a blur of strength and shadow.
Moments later, distant snarls echoed through the woods. A boar's cry, sharp and brief. Then silence.
When Dante returned, he carried a full grown boar across his shoulders.
They set both kills by the campfire later, the scent of smoke and blood mingling in the air. The sun was sinking, washing the forest in shades of amber and violet.
Liora wiped sweat from her brow. "Two kills. You have one. I have one. We're tied."
Dante grinned. "Then we keep going."
They hunted again. Rabbits. Foxes. Wild fowls. It became a silent competition, a dance of instinct and rivalry. Each time one caught something, the other countered with precision.
By dusk, they returned to the fortress, dirt streaked, exhausted, laughing. But when they compared their hauls, Liora's bag held two more catches.
She smirked. "Looks like you owe me, Alpha."
The warriors nearby chuckled quietly. Even Elira peeked out from the gate, smiling shyly at the sight of Liora standing beside Dante like an equal.
Dante crossed his arms, pretending to frown. "I underestimated you."
"You did," she said, chin tilted proudly.
His gaze softened, the hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Very well. You win. What's your request?"
The camp fell silent. Even the fire seemed to still.
Liora's voice was calm when she spoke, but her words sliced through the air like a blade.
"I want Alpha Gonzalo's Vanya kidnapped and brought to me."