The Last of the Pure

Twenty-three

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Thanks for reading, as always, and I am thankful for the few of you who are continuously tuning in! :)

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“Get your foot up higher!”

“It’s high!”

“If you’re kicking someone in the neck, it’s perfect.”

Thomas moved back toward me, setting my torso properly with his hands on my waist and positioning my arms in a blocking position.

He lifted his hand a foot or so in front of his face, holding it out as a target for me. Had it been a normal sized person, I would have been able to hit the target, but Thomas—not unlike his brother—had a rather hulking height that left him several inches above most people.

“Try again,” he said, giving me an expectant look that had Sam shaking his head behind him.

It’d been four days since I’d found Lonnie and rather than attempt to explain anything to her—I was leaving that to Nate—Thomas, Samuel, and I had spent nearly every second training in the field Samuel and I had so often used.

It provided a good distraction from everything and Lonnie was so enveloped with Nate that she barely noticed our absence.

It was pretty ridiculous how much she already liked him.

We hadn’t exactly devised a plan, but I wanted to be ready for anything that could come before we had. If Lucas made any moves before we made ours, I wanted to be strong and confident.

I kicked at Thomas’s hand and struck him in the wrist. There was barely enough time for my foot to touch back to the ground before he was motioning for me to go again, then again, and by the third attempt I was not only frustrated with myself, but ready to kick the smug smirk off of Thomas’s face.

With my foot still planted on the ground, I froze, looking around at Sam and Thomas’s halted forms with a wicked smile I couldn’t help and moving Thomas’s hand a few inches lower. I didn’t unfreeze until mid-kick, probably less than a millisecond before my foot crashed into Thomas’s hand perfectly. His face contorted in surprised and he stumbled back upon impact, crashing roughly to the ground while I smiled over him.

Sam was trying not to laugh and when I grinned in his direction he broke, doubling over with his hands resting on his knees while he laughed at his brother.

“You moved my hand, you little cheat,” Thomas accused, standing up from the ground and brushing off the back of the wind pants he was wearing.

“I would never,” I gasped in mock surprised, putting my hand to my chest and shaking my head at him.

“Two months ago, I would have believed that,” he chuckled. “But you aren’t fooling anyone with that doe-eyed look of yours anymore.”

Thomas raised his hands and before he’d even made a motion, I could see the water pouring from his hands, coming in my direction. It all happened so fast I couldn’t tell if it were something I’d imagined or a sort of premonition, so rather than take any chances, I froze and moved to duck behind Samuel.

When I let it drop, water rose from Thomas’s palms in a tall wave, splashing the empty space in front of him in the same second before he could even realize my absence.

It played out exactly the way I’d seen in my head and I found myself almost gasping at the realization that the vision had come so quickly and so painlessly.

Sam turned to look at me, curiosity evident in his eyes.

Thomas spun on himself to look at me, obviously wondering when I’d disappeared.