"Again," I instructed, crossing my arms as I watched her repeat the combination.

Two left jabs, and a right hook. It should be simple, easy, but she's sloppy and making them look impossible.

"No," I complained, causing her to pull her hood back and run a hand through her raven black hair. "Again."

"I've been doing this for the past three days," she argued, marching over to me.

"And you'll keep doing it until you get it right. If you can't do the basics, I have nothing to build on. Now, do it again."

Moving her jaw to the side as her lips puckered in vexation, I was pleasantly surprised when she did as told. Looking at her shadoe watching from above, I was sure she had some influence in Sparrow's compliance. I'd have to thank her later for her help.

As Sparrow continued her training exercise, I felt the closeness of my own shadoe approaching. Looking over my shoulder, Beau watched on, amusement radiating off of him through the bond. 

It's not funny. We need her to be a strong fighter.

Arguing that I was no fun, he sat down in the snow, still allowing me to draw warmth from him. Having a polar bear as a shadoe had its perks, one of them being that I rarely ever was cold in this frozen world of Icadia. While others had to layer up to maintain a comfortable body temperature, I did not.

I was in the middle of mentally talking to Beau when the rough texture of semi-frozen ice smacked against my jaw, seeping down into my thin shirt. Ignoring Beau's roar of laughter, I wiped the snow off my face and locked eyes with the shrew who threw it.

"I'm done punching the air like some fool," she spat, her eyes ablaze like a blue flame. "If you're going to teach me something, then teach me, but I'm not wasting another day-"

"Avery!"

Biting her lip in frustration because of the interruption, I turned my attention to Heath, who was jogging over. He was decked out in his snowsuit that we'd modified to make more suitable for combat, and he carried his spear across his back.

"Uh, sorry, Sparrow," he said when he noticed the scowl on her face.

"Don't apologize to her, just tell me what you called me for," I insisted, grinning on the inside when I saw her shake her head before complaining to Oak about me.

I guess your sense of humor is rubbing off on me, Beau.

A soft growl of approvement left his throat as I turned my attention back on Heath.

"General Yates wants to speak with you," he said, his dark brown eyes serious. "He says it's urgent."

Mentally preparing myself for the worst, I looked over at the woman watching us.

"Take over Sparrow's training until I get back," I stated, glancing back at Heath. "Maybe you can get a breakthrough."

"With her? I doubt it. That woman's hard to crack," he mumbled. "But, I'll give it a try."

Nodding my head, I whistled for Beau to come closer. When he stood beside me, I ignored Sparrow's questioning of where I was going and mounted him.

Taking off at a speed only safe to ride along the perimeter of the camp, I wished Heath good luck and prepared myself for what was to come.

Hopping off my shadoe once we arrived at the large tent, I nodded for him to wait outside while I went in. Yates' usual stoic countenance was lacking as a visibly disturbed version of himself stood before me, pacing around the large table in the middle of the space.

Maps, pens, stamps, and letters were scattered along the length of it, and he was so lost in thought that he neglected to notice my arrival.

"General," I called, pulling him back to reality as I stepped further in.

"Oh, good, you're here," he exhaled, scouring through the many papers. "Where is it? Where is it? Where-Ah, got it!"

Shoving the parchment into my hands, Yates informed, "This letter arrived early this morning. It's from Camp Genesis."

Hearing that this came from our mother camp, I spared no seconds, engulfing myself in the tale that General Paxton told in his letter. I could feel Beau stirring outside as he discerned my unease the more that I read, but I made no moves to calm myself. Continuing on, I nearly dropped the parchment when my sights glazed across one sentence.

The Forsaken Ones know of our plans to attack.

"How?" I questioned, trying my best not to crumple the letter in my fist. "How did they find out? We've been so careful."

"Not careful enough, it seems," Yates said, eyeing the entrance of the tent. "You don't think we have traitors amongst us, do you?"

"In our camp? No, sir. I can't see any of our men betraying us after all the hardships our people have suffered."

"Mmm, you're right," he sighed, sitting down on the wooden chair beside him. "Maybe there's a mole in Paxton's camp. Either way, we can't go forward with our previous plans of attack. It'd be a guaranteed loss without the element of surprise. I had high hopes that lynk would be the help we needed, but if they know of her presence, then we are no closer to victory than before she showed up."

Nodding in agreement, I leaned onto the table, placing the letter in front of me as I reread it. I couldn't believe it. Just when we thought we stood a chance, we received this kind of news. By the third time I finished reading it, I was ready to break something to release the devastated frustration riddling my bones.

Bringing my fist down to the table, it was as if I hit a thought into my mind—a question that's answer had the power to fix things.

"General?" I called, now standing up straight as I looked at him. "You said this arrived this morning, correct?"

"Yes, at dawn."

"How many days of travel are between us and Camp Genesis?"

"Six, if there are no storms."

With that information, a light sparked in my spirit so bright that I'm sure Beau could feel it. 

"Hope is not lost on this plan, yet, General," I said. "We didn't find Sparrow until after this letter was sent. The Forsaken Ones may know of our previous plot, but they don't know of our new strategy."

"Then we better make sure they never find out," he stated, following my lead in revelation. "Avery, I want that woman trained night and day until she's among our best defenders. Figure out whatever you have to do to help her progress, and do it fast. They may not know of her existence, but we're still working on borrowed time, and I'd prefer to be ready for battle before that time runs out."

"Yes, sir," I replied, lightly bowing my head before leaving.

Come on, Beau.

Rushing back to the field with a new found sense of motivation, I was determined to turn that sharp-tongued rebel into a warrior.

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Author's Note:

Sorry for the slow update. I was finishing the final chapters of my Teen Fiction book, so I didn't have time to work on this one, but I'm back now 🙂.

Also, I know this was a shorter chapter, but it's not because I slacked or anything. This is just all that I wanted to show from Avery's POV. Not every chapter will be 2000+ words. This one was half that amount.

My question for this chapter is: Who do you think The Forsaken Ones are?🤔

Thanks for reading! Please remember to vote if you liked it.

-Mac