Fenris knocked on the wooden door again and again with no answer. “This is the right door, right?” He looked at the corridor he was in. He was sure this was where the mage’s workshop was. At least he thought he was sure.

  “She threw me out with the lightning spell of hers. This has to be the place.” Fenris was going to knock again, but as his knuckles were inches away from the door, he slowly dropped his entire hand.

  “Screw this.” He pushed open the door. If the mage was here, that would have meant she was ignoring him, and he didn’t have much time to waste. Beowulf was waiting for him, and something told Fenris that the proud, bulky werewolf appreciated punctuality.

  As the door made a creaking noise, Fenris forced himself in. He looked all over to find scattered pages everywhere, just like the last time he was here. But no Gwendolyn in sight.

  He turned to his other senses: hearing and smell. Concentrating on any noise he could find, he picked up a sound—a slow, rhythmic breathing.

  Turning his gaze, Fenris saw another wooden door to the side in front of him.

  “This place’s bigger than I thought.” Entering through the new door, Fenris finally discovered Gwendolyn. Sleeping. Her head lay on a stack of books on a wooden table, next to more papers.

  “Well, that explains the strange breathing.” The inner room was quite smaller than the outer room. Only about ten people could fit in here. Fenris guessed this was where she went to take a break.

  “Doesn’t she have her own room? This castle is gigantic.” Walking into the room, Fenris took a quick look at the sleeping mage. She was exhausted. Her baggy eyes looked even bigger than when he last saw her—which wasn’t even an hour ago.

  Her skin looked a bit pale. Fenris hadn’t known Gwendolyn for long, but she looked quite thin for her age.

  “Buck may have understated just how much she does for Lycan’s pack. Why go through all this trouble to help werewolves?”

  A page fell down from the table. Like a leaf, it slowly glided down. Fenris, for no reason, got on one knee and picked up the fallen page. What he saw on it intrigued him.

  It was a rough sketch—not a very good one. The sketch was of a diagram of stones that circled around a castle, with waves interconnected by it.

  “Is this the barrier that I saw?” Fenris guessed it was, seeing as there were incantations below the diagrams. “Is this how it works? Some kind of enchantments? I wonder what gems were used?”

  “What are you doing here?” a feminine voice asked. Fenris turned his gaze up and found Gwendolyn with one eye open.

  He slowly stood up. She cleared her eyes, looked at Fenris, and then at the page. She swiped it from him with a huge frown on her face.

  “That’s not meant for you.” She inserted the page into one of the many stacked books. Her gaze turned back to Fenris. “Well? Answer me. What are you doing here?”

  Getting up slowly, Fenris looked straight into Gwendolyn’s tired eyes. “Buck pointed out that I may owe you some gratitude,” Fenris said.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Oh really? Is that so?” Gwen asked.

  Fenris noticed Gwendolyn’s sarcasm. His eyes twitched. He didn’t much care for it.

  “It is,” he answered. “Buck’s foolishness could have cost me my life. If you really did burn the wolfsbane out of my system somehow, then…”

  Fenris took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “Hmmm,” Gwen muttered. “And…?”

  “And what?” Fenris raised an eyebrow.

  Gwen brought a hand to her neck and grabbed it. “Isn’t there anything else you’d like to tell me? For example… YOU CHOKING ME!” Gwen’s facial expression switched from tired to wrathful.

  “Like I told you before, I don't know where I was, and I thought you were an enemy. I was acting out of survival. There’s nothing to apologize for,” Fenris said.

  Gwendolyn’s whole demeanor returned to being tired. A sudden burst of rageful energy slowly deflated. She sighed.

  “Get out.” Her gaze returned to the book. She opened one up and began reading.

  “Listen…”

  “If this is about your runes, you will get it after you complete your training with Beowulf,” Gwendolyn cut Fenris off.

  “I never had a choice in the matter. No matter how much I dislike you, you're still a part of Lycan’s pack. I have a responsibility to every member, and that includes you.”

  Fenris was left speechless by Gwen’s words. It was a mix of dedication and anger. The anger was obviously directed at Fenris.

  “I don’t like to repeat myself. As you can see, I’m busy. I don’t have time to spare listening to your half-assed thank you or your stupid logic about how you don’t owe me an apology.”

  Gwendolyn’s gaze averted from the books and onto Fenris. She frowned greatly. “GET… OUT.” A single line of electricity ran through her fingers.

  “Fine,” Fenris said. He did as the Blessed One said, walking out of the inner room and workshop.

  “Finally,” Gwen sighed. “Now I can get back to work.” Gwendolyn’s eyes turned to the many books and pages. She slouched in her chair and used her fingers to slowly massage the covers of her eyes. “Hurray.”

  Fenris, finding his way out of the castle, spotted the human guards at the doorway just as he did the previous day. No words said. It might not have been his place to say, but he didn't trust them.

  He walked the green field towards Beowulf, who had his hands clasped behind his back.

  “You’re late,” Beowulf said without turning back.

  “I had some business to attend to,” Fenris said.

  Beowulf slowly turned his entire body towards Fenris. He didn’t look angry. His face was stale. Is that a look of disappointment? Fenris thought.

  “Tell me, Fenris, what do you aim to achieve under my training?” Beowulf asked.

  “To fight better, I guess,” Fenris said.

  “You guess?” Beowulf looked at Fenris, marred.

  Fenris sighed. “I don’t know what answer you were expecting. Buck and Lycan pushed me into this. ‘Fight like a human?’ I’ve never heard of something more ridiculous in my life. Humans are slower and weaker. I’ve always fought wildly, and it’s gotten me this far.”

  Beowulf smirked. “I see.”

  He walked toward Fenris, his hands still clasped behind his back. “True, humans are not as physically capable as us, but you are wrong to assume that learning to fight like them is a waste of time. Because they are weak and can’t heal like us, they have to come up with different ways to fight. They strategize. They deceive. And they use whatever they can in battle to survive.”

  Beowulf stood in front of Fenris, towering over him.

  “I now understand what I must do to you,” Beowulf said with a scary smile.

  Fenris raised an eyebrow, accompanied by a sweat dripping down his cheek.

  “What are you—”

  Fenris was interrupted by a blow to his stomach, lifting up his feet and sending him flying a few feet away. He lay on the field and coughed blood on the grass.

  He looked towards Beowulf, who had a fist out.

  “You see this training as a nuisance. As a chore. I will change that. Your answer has given me clarity. I swear I will make you love the thrill of battle just as I do!