Wolf Teeth || Book I : Summer {M/M} ❄

Chapter #18

Oryen awoke in the early morning to a strong hand shaking him by the shoulder. With an embarrassing sound somewhere between grunt and squeal, he sat bolt upright and overbalanced in the hammock, which spun and deposited him unceremoniously on the floor.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Reyz held out his hands as if to calm a wild horse. "Didn't mean to surprise you."

Oryen said, "Reyz?"

"SHH!" hissed one of the sleeping squad.

Oryen winced. "What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"Faylan practice. I thought I should teach you. Even the playing field for tryouts, you know?"

Bleary as he was, the suggestion woke him up. With all he had to risk in order to keep Beau placated, he didn't want to bring any further threat to his chances of proving himself to Lazro and the other Alphas. If Reyz could help him catch up on all the werewolf-y skills he'd missed out on, he wouldn't say no.

Shoving aside exhaustion, he followed Reyz out of the barracks. The pale morning was overcast and muggy with a pressure in the atmosphere that threatened storms. They went to the amphitheatre, set up already for a game. At either end, tall, hexagonal hoops elevated on poles had been placed at intervals—one fifteen feet high, another twenty, the last thirty.

"I wanted to get you here early to explain it all," Reyz said. "Well, that and Kaly wasn't in such a great mood last night, so I thought I'd get out of her hair."

The back of Oryen's neck heated up with the remembrance of just what might have disturbed Kaly's equilibrium. "Sorry to hear it, mate."

Reyz waved it off. "Everyone needs their space. Anyway, it's not the only reason. The Storm Crows already have their team together. They'll be coming here later to practice. Kaly, of course, won't tell me anything, but rumours are going around she's got some kind of secret weapon. I want to know who it is."

Reyz went over to a pile of equipment. There was, Oryen reflected, a distinct lack of padding for those who would be riding the wolves. Several sticks with netting at the end—like lacrosse sticks—leaned against the wall in rows. A few balls about the size of baseballs were piled in a wooden crate. Reyz retrieved one and tossed it in the air.

"Right, so the rules are pretty simple," he said, catching the ball on the way down. "First rule: wolves can't attack players in human form, but are free to mess with each other. Second rule: no going for the eyes or the unmentionables. Third rule: foul play in either of those categories gives the opposing team a penalty."

Oryen nodded, following along. Reyz tossed him the ball and picked up a stick.

"Aim of the game is pretty self-explanatory—get that ball through the goals for points. We call 'em hexes, 'cause of the shape. The higher the hex, the higher the score. Shortest on the left is three points, medium on the right is five, highest in the middle is ten. Got it?"

Oryen assessed the goals at the end of the pitch. The lowest was of a height with a man on the back of a wolf, but the highest was much taller. The hexes weren't large, either. He'd have to throw with precision to get the ball through.

"Next thing," Reyz said. "That's probably the first and last time you'll be holding the ball in hand, because you're not allowed to touch it. Ball always has to be carried in the net." Reyz threw a ball skyward and, with a sweep of his stick, caught it in the netted end to demonstrate. "You use sticks to get the ball to goal, but they can also be used to knock the ball out of your possession, or beat you senseless, though it's not suggested to go too hairy on that front. The sticks will break before a werewolf does."