The Luna's An Assasin

Life in the Syndicate

As always, my body was adorned in all black, skin suffocating faux leather. With long strands of snow white hairs pulled from my face, I could focus on my task at hand.

Today that task was Sahib, a broody middle-aged wolf whom I had learn to love sparring with over the years. He was the only one in the Syndicate of Assassins whom ever really showed me any competition. Sahib is not his given name, he was only renamed after his joining of the Syndicate. We are named by our elders.

Unlike other packs, the Syndicate has no Alpha. We are ran by a board of elders who make decisions and accept no one ruler. 

"Você nem está tentando, Venarius." (You are not even trying,) Sahib spit blood onto the plush grass of the clearing and scolded me with his eyes before striking again. "Focus, child!"

Venarius was the name chose for me, the elders thought they were so clever. Ven as in venom and arius was Latin for assassin. I'm aware Latin is a dead tongue, but on camp we communicate in hundreds of languages. I'm only versed in six, but the elders can speak foreign and dead tones amongst themselves. It's fascinating to hear them argue to say the least.

I receive another blow to my lower abdomen that could send grown wolves toppling over. The impact threw me on my ass. I growled up through my dark eye lashes at my attacker. It didn't take but a second for me to spring back onto my feet and ready myself once more. 

A droplet here and there of sweat began to dribble down the side of my hairline and into the fresh cut on my cheek. I winced only to myself as the salty droplet met my opened laceration. A wound I would soon gladly return the favor on. My body moved as one, throwing continuous jabs that left Sahib slowly retreating while fending me off.

My left leg shot out and barely missed his tree trunks for limbs as he sprung back. My hand struck and left a good upper jab to his nose, cracking with satisfaction. He stumbled back once more. This cycle continued until we were at the edge of the clearing. 

My swings became intentionally effortless, tricking my opponent into thinking I was tiring. He was all the smarter and knew my technique too well for these games, to my dismay. "Lute com seu corpo, não com sua mente!" (Fight with your body not your mind!")

That's when I realized I had pushed him exactly where I wanted him-- the edge of the clearing. I leaped using the strength from my inner wolf and latched myself onto the lowest tree branch. My hands gripped the rough surface as I pulled up on the branch and let my body drop back down, snapping the tree's limb at a worthy length.

When I fell back to the ground, I was accompanied by a weapon. My hands effortlessly worked their way, twirling the limb around my back and then to my front before making a thrust at my opponent in which he easily blocked with a smug expression. "How about I fight with both," I sneered using my wolf's canines.

We danced our dance a few more minutes until I eventually had Sahib with his back on the ground and me on top pushing the branch into his neck for good measure. "And suddenly the student becomes the mentor," Sahib let out with a strangled breath.

I removed the branch and myself from his body. Instead, pushing the stick into the ground by my side and using it to lean some weight on. 

"You let me win, asshat." I knew Sahib all too well for me to think it was going to be that easy. "You're becoming a softie in your age, old man." I teased.