So, running quickly became my newfound love — even though, at first, it was forced, due to the lack of any decent or cheap alternatives. The bike increasingly stayed in the apartment, while I continued to go on runs as scheduled. I could run at any time of the year; the cold weather didn't bother me much anymore. Not that I didn't feel the cold at all. It just seemed much softer now. Even my father, forgetting himself, sometimes managed to run out in thirty-degree below freezing temperatures in his usual turtleneck and leather jacket, and now I understood how Kostya could do it.
However, at first, running seemed like a kind of trial, something that, if completed, would toughen both my body and spirit. My father didn't let me slack off, making me maintain my pace during runs without giving any details on whether I should or shouldn't run. Kostya never delved into the study of running technique, so he couldn't really explain anything or offer useful advice. My father did things by intuition, learning through trial and error. But Kostya's method didn't work for me. For the first while, I struggled through the whole distance because I was breathing wrong. I ran until my calves ached, not knowing if I was trying to prove something to myself or to my father. But the elusive finish line never appeared on the horizon, and with it, my love for cardio never came.
Everything changed when one day Kostya stayed late at work and sent Denis — the only nearly my age werewolf I knew in Kserton — to run with me. It was Denis who showed me running from a new perspective, and that's when it became hard not to fall in love with running.
I planned to run my usual distance every day during the week-long break, knowing that some exercise was necessary to unwind. I even managed to convince my friend to do a few evening training sessions near the spa center. Usually, Denis and I ran together in the mornings along the road by the village of Bugrad, but now, with us being at opposite ends of Kserton, training together wasn't as easy.
Denis went to school on weekdays, helped more than usual in his father's fishing shop during the holidays, and lately, he'd also been busy helping his mother with the floral arrangements at the spa center. In short, he had a lot on his plate, but I still managed to convince him to train here in the evenings. In hindsight, after yesterday's confrontation with the Smirnovs, these joint runs under the noses of the vampires didn't seem like a good idea. Denis could barely keep himself together around them. No wonder Kostya put him on patrol with himself, other wolves, or, in the worst case, with Stas — he couldn't get along with the witches at all.
The sound of a dull thud interrupted my thoughts: something heavy had fallen to the floor. Instinctively, I immediately turned and took a defensive stance, as my father had taught me, but when I saw the cause of my concern, I just rolled my eyes. Kaandor was standing, leaning his shoulder against the wall next to the dresser, and was observing the ceiling with exaggerated interest, as though not noticing me. Right in front of him, on the floor, was the book that Arthur had handed me from Stas.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, picking the book up from the floor and returning it to its place. However, Kaandor wasn't satisfied with that. Without waiting for me to return to my activities, he demonstratively swiped the book off the surface of the dresser again.
"Stop it," I warned him, pointing my finger at him, and picked the book up once more. As soon as I tried to put it back, Kaandor extended his hand, ready to knock it off again.
"What's wrong with you today? When something important needs to be done, it's always 'interacting with physical objects takes too much energy,' but when it's time to fool around, I guess you don't need to take care of them?"
"I'm willing to use as much energy as necessary, as long as you stop fooling yourself," Kaandor's voice echoed in my mind.
"Fooling myself? In what way?" I smirked and placed the book back in its place. "Don't talk nonsense."
Just as I was about to grab my swimsuit and go change, a dull thud sounded for the third time. I looked into Kaandor's eyes, which seemed to glow from within with a warm golden hue. However, I knew very well that once again, I would lose to the power of his gaze. I could never look at him for long. Despite the strengthened bond between us, merging still proved difficult for me; my head would quickly begin to spin if the contact lasted too long.
"You know very well in what way," Kaandor's voice continued.
"No, I don't. Enlighten me," I added mockingly. I didn't like admitting this, but Kaandor knew all the thoughts in my head. Even those I was afraid to admit to myself.
"He likes you," Kaandor nodded toward the book, which had turned out to be opened in the middle.
"And he's a vampire who lives forever and isn't looking for anything serious at eighteen."
"Oh really?" Kaandor said thoughtfully, as if trying to intrigue me. "I bet you'll change your mind once you read it."
"I'm not going to read anything," I said, picking up the book. But Kaandor quickly dropped his long, clawed paw on top, which startled me. For a moment, I squeezed my eyes shut and loosened my fingers, realizing too late that Kaandor had intended for me to do that. The spirit's paw passed through my hand easily, leaving behind a cold sensation, as it always did when Kaandor appeared in our world in his intangible form. As far as I knew from the dark companion's explanations, he didn't dare to make his body heavy, keeping the already fragile balance of the world intact. However, this good intention didn't save him from his little pranks.
This time, the book struck the floor by its spine and opened in the middle. To my horror, I realized it wasn't printed text anymore. The pages were written in a familiar, elaborate handwriting. Stas's handwriting.
"This... what..." I started, but stopped myself when I realized there was no other explanation. The only possible answer fit perfectly with the spirit's hints, and yet, the words froze in my throat.
"Yes, yes. Your dear one's diary. With all his thoughts," Kaandor stepped closer to me. "With all his secrets."