Return to Seven Fountain

Fire under the Oak

Simoné took a moment to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow, though it was more out of habit than necessity; she wasn't even tired after sparring with Chase. A ripple of anticipation buzzed through the onlookers, the morning light casting a golden hue over the clearing. The trees stood silent and watchful as if nature itself was invested in the outcome.

Rupert, the Gamma, stepped forward with a subtle smile that reached his eyes. His stance was firm, each muscle coiled like a spring, ready to burst. Though he was bulkier than Chase, Rupert's strength lay in his resilience and brute power. His dark eyes met hers, respectful yet cautious, and he gave her a slight nod before bowing his head.

"Luna," he said, his voice deep and almost a whisper, a mark of respect that didn't go unnoticed.

Simoné's heart quickened at the title. She knew it was meant to acknowledge her after helping Rupert and his mate Bianca, but it carried an extra weight when spoken. She returned the nod, her eyes narrowing as she fell into her fighting stance, knees bent, arms up, fingers splayed just enough for flexibility.

Keenan's presence at the edge of the clearing felt like a flame brushing her skin, a silent reminder of why she needed to win. Shaney, her wolf, stirred within, a soft growl of encouragement echoing in Simoné's mind. "Show him what we're made of," Shaney urged.

Tom, the pack trainer, stepped forward and raised his hand, glancing between the two. "Begin."

Rupert moved first, a blur of muscle and raw energy as he lunged forward, aiming for her center with an arcing punch. Simoné sidestepped, the blow grazing the air beside her with a force that made the onlookers suck in a collective breath. Rupert was powerful, each movement deliberate and impactful.

Simoné countered immediately, her body twisting as she aimed a sharp elbow toward his ribs. He anticipated her move, blocking with a forearm and using the momentum to swing his other arm in a backhand strike. The speed was impressive, but she ducked in time, feeling the wind of his fist as it sailed past her.

She pivoted low, using her smaller stature to her advantage, and swept her leg in a calculated arc aimed at his knees. Rupert stumbled but recovered with a growl, eyes blazing as he straightened up. He came at her again, this time using both hands to grab for her arms in an attempt to pin her. Simoné let him close the distance, the heat of his breath near her neck, before dropping her weight and shifting backward. The sudden move unbalanced him, and she twisted out of his grip with the grace of a dancer.

Their movements were a flurry now—punch, block, kick, dodge—the rhythmic dance of warriors testing each other's limits. The clearing was silent except for the scuffing of feet on dirt and the occasional grunt as hits landed or were deflected. Simoné felt the adrenaline pulse through her veins, sharpening her senses. She noted the tightening of Rupert's jaw before he launched another series of quick jabs. She blocked two, caught the third, and used the moment of connection to pull him toward her and twist his arm behind his back.

Rupert was strong, and she could feel his muscles strain against her hold. He shifted his stance and managed to spin out of her grip, but not before she delivered a knee to his side that made him wince. He stepped back, eyes glinting with newfound respect and a hint of admiration. The crowd around them murmured, impressed by the exchange.

"You're holding back, Rupert," Simoné taunted, her voice confident. "Don't do me that disservice."

He bared his teeth in a wolfish grin, accepting her challenge. This time when he moved, it was with the full power of his rank. He rushed at her, faking a right hook but twisting his body at the last second to come at her with a powerful kick. Simoné leaped back, but his foot caught her hip, throwing her off-balance. She stumbled but recovered quickly, using the momentum to spin and land a punch squarely on his chest.