Chapter 620
Oscar:
The forest always smells different once you step beyond the academy walls.
Cleaner.
Raw.
Untamed.
This morning, as I led the second years down the narrow trail cutting through the western woods, I could practically taste their excitement in the air. It rolled off them in waves – sharp, electric, impossible to ignore.
Two full months of indoor training will do that to a pack of young wolves.
I kept my pace steady at the front of the group, my boots crushing frost-tipped leaves underfoot. The cold had finally settled in properly. It wasn’t snowing yet, but the air carried winter’s promise – crisp, biting, alive.
Behind me, the students moved in organized clusters of five, just as instructed. No one walked alone. No one drifted too far from the formation. They were still laughing, whispering, occasionally shoving each other in that restless way students do when they were trying not to look overly eager.
I didn’t turn around.
But I could hear everything.
Smell everything.
Anticipation.
Nervousness.
Adrenaline.
It was their very first field class of the semester, their first time stepping beyond controlled and reinforced practice halls to train in the wild.
And I had made sure of it.
Officially, the reasoning was simple – after two months of indoor drills, combat simulations, and controlled sparring, it was time they experienced real terrain. Uneven ground. Natural obstacles. Unpredictable elements.
Unofficially?
This wasn’t entirely about them.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, the cold air burning slightly.
Evaline had been distant this week.
Not cold.
Not upset.
Just… distant.
It started last Saturday.
She had returned from headquarters two hours later than usual. At first, I hadn’t thought much of it. She played with Lioren after dinner – laughing, playing in the living room while River, Kieran, and I watched.
She had looked fine.
Tired, maybe.
But fine.
Then she shut herself in the bedroom.
When River and I joined her later that night, she was seated on the bed with the thick record book spread open across her lap. Her brows drawn together in deep concentration.
She told us to rest first and continued reading.
River lay down first. I followed shortly after. And we both fell asleep… while she still kept reading.
Neither of us knew exactly when she slept.
When I woke up the next morning, she had already left for the headquarters.
And instead of returning home by noon like she usually did on Sundays, she came back at six in the evening.
Six.
She still spent three hours with Lioren – fully present, attentive, loving. But then she came back to the academy.
And since then?
It had only intensified.
Monday through Friday, she attended her classes as usual. Showed up for meals. Messaged in the family group chat every single day. Reacted instantly to Lioren’s photos and videos.
She never forgot to wish us goodnight.
Never stopped being… her.
And yet.
She had barely spent any time with us.
Most of her waking hours outside class were split between the herbology experiment lab and the library.
Something had caught her attention.
Something important.
And she hadn’t told any of us what it was… yet.
Even her friends had started complaining.
But none of us had confronted her. Not yet. Because we all knew if it was serious, she would tell us.
She always did.
Still… life had felt slightly emptier this week.
Which is why I arranged this field class.
Fresh air.
Open space.
A shift in environment.
And yes… if I was being honest with myself… I hoped that by the time I returned home this evening, she might have finished whatever had consumed her and finally let herself breathe.
Or at least let me help her breathe.
The trail widened ahead, and I lifted my hand slightly – the silent signal for the group to slow down.
Branches rustled behind me as they adjusted.
I glanced over my shoulder briefly at the forty-one faces, all bundled in academy-issued cold-weather training gear.
Some tried to mask their excitement with composed expressions, but failed miserably.
I allowed myself a faint smile.
Field classes are different.
Indoor combat is controlled. Predictable. Safe.
Out here?
The ground dips unexpectedly. Roots twist beneath fallen leaves. Wind shifts scent patterns. Sounds carry differently.
A real fight rarely happens on flat, padded flooring.
“You are too loud,” I called without turning.
There was immediate silence, even a few guilty looks.
“Out here, noise travels p>
I gestured lightly toward the trees. “And you are not the only predators in these woods p>
That sobered them slightly.
Good.
After another ten minutes of steady walking, the forest began to thin.
We stepped into a small clearing ringed by towering pines. The ground was mostly even but not perfectly flat. A few large boulders sat along one edge. Fallen logs scattered naturally around the perimeter.
Perfect.
Instructor Corey was already there, leaning casually against one of the rocks.
He straightened when he saw us approach.
Corey gave me a nod.
I returned it.
He had agreed to co-instruct today’s session. Physical combat combined with environmental awareness.
First field class.
They needed to understand that the forest was not just background scenery.
It was a weapon.
And a threat.
“Circle up,” I ordered.
The students gathered in a wide half-circle before us.
I let my gaze sweep across their faces.
Excitement.
Nervousness.
Curiosity.
“Congratulations,” I began evenly. “You have officially survived two months of indoor training p>
It earned me a few relieved chuckles.
“That means,” I continued, “it’s time you learn what real combat feels like p>
Their postures straightened immediately.
Corey pushed off the rock and stepped forward. “You are no longer fighting on reinforced floors. No protective barrier will catch you if you misstep. The forest doesn’t care if you are tired. Or distracted p>
He kicked lightly at a patch of leaves, revealing uneven ground beneath.
“This terrain will trip you. Slow you down. Expose your weaknesses p>
I stepped forward beside him.
“And today,” I said, “we begin with three things p>