Morning came too quickly.
Violet woke to grey light filtering through her window and the sound of Garrett already moving around outside. Chopping wood. His steady rhythm a comfort against her nervousness.
She dressed slowly. Pulled on her training clothes—worn soft from use, patched in places where Kari's strikes had torn fabric.
Her hands shook slightly as she laced her boots.
*Real blades today.*
Maria was making breakfast when Violet emerged. Porridge with honey and dried berries. The warm, sweet smell filled the cottage.
"Eat," Maria said, setting a bowl before her. "All of it."
Violet ate mechanically. Tasting nothing. Just fueling her body for what was coming.
Garrett came in from outside, bringing cold air and the scent of pine. He looked at Violet, then at her barely-touched food.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"Terrified."
He nodded like this was reasonable. Sat down across from her.
"First time I fought with real weapons, I threw up before the match."
Violet blinked. "You did?"
"Twice." He cut bread with precise movements. "Master told me fear was normal. That warriors who claimed they weren't afraid were either lying or stupid. Usually both."
He looked at her directly. "Scared means you're paying attention. Means you respect what you're doing."
"But how do you fight through it?"
"You just do." He shrugged. "Fear doesn't stop existing just because you need to act. You carry it with you and act anyway."
He stood, ruffled her hair as he passed. "You'll be fine."
Simple words. But from Garrett, they carried weight.
***
The training ground felt different this morning.
Kari was already there, sitting on a fallen log. But she wasn't alone.
Bara stood beside her, massive arms crossed, watching with interest. And gathered at the clearing's edge—dozens of Beastkin. Warriors, mothers, even some of the children.
An audience.
Violet's stomach dropped.
"What—"
"They wanted to watch," Kari said simply. She stood, drawing two daggers from her belt. Real ones. The blades caught morning light, sharp and deadly. "I said they could. You have a problem with that?"
Yes. Absolutely yes. Having dozens of people watch her potentially fail was—
Violet swallowed hard. "No problem."
Kari's smile was knowing. "Liar. But I appreciate the commitment to the lie."
She tossed one dagger to Violet. It spun through the air, and Violet's hand shot out on instinct—catching it by the handle, feeling the weight settle into her palm.
Different from the wooden trainers. Heavier. Balanced differently. The dulled edge still promised pain if she wasn't careful.
"The rules," Kari said, drawing a second dagger for herself. "First blood ends the match. Disarms count as yields. No strikes to the face or throat—everywhere else is fair game."
She settled into fighting stance. "And if you freeze up, I'm going to hit you until you remember how to move. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good." Kari's eyes gleamed. "Begin."
She moved.
Fast. Testing. A probing strike toward Violet's shoulder.
Violet's training took over. She parried—felt the shock of metal on metal ringing up her arm—and sidestepped.
Her counter came automatically. A low slash aimed at Kari's ribs.
Kari blocked. Pressed forward. Their blades locked for a moment, faces close enough that Violet could see the small scar above Kari's left eye.
"Good," Kari breathed. "Now don't stop."
She broke the lock and spun. Her blade came at Violet's back.
Violet dropped low. Felt the dagger pass overhead. Lashed out with her own blade at Kari's exposed knee.
The snow leopard jumped back. Smiled wider.
"Better. Again."
They danced.
Not the stumbling, uncertain movements Violet had started with weeks ago. Real combat flow. Attack and defense blending into continuous motion.
Violet's fear was still there. But it had transformed. Become fuel instead of paralysis.
She saw openings and took them. Saw traps and avoided them. Let her body move while her mind stayed sharp and focused.
Kari pressed harder. Faster. Each exchange more intense than the last.
Violet's lungs burned. Sweat stung her eyes. Her arms screamed with fatigue.
But she kept moving.
Kept fighting.
Until—
Kari's blade came at her ribs. Violet moved to block.
Too slow.
The dulled edge caught her side. Not deep. But enough.
"Hold!" Kari stepped back immediately.
Violet looked down. Blood seeped through her shirt. Not much. Just a shallow cut.
First blood.
The match was over.
She'd lost.
The watching Beastkin erupted in noise—not jeering, but something else. Approval? Surprise?
Violet couldn't tell. Her ears were ringing. Vision narrowing to tunnel focus.
She'd lost. Failed. In front of everyone.
"Violet." Kari's voice cut through the spiral. "Look at me."
Violet raised her eyes.
Kari was smiling. Not her usual smug expression. Something genuine. Almost proud.
"You lasted three minutes against me going at seventy percent." She sheathed her daggers. "Most trained warriors don't last one."
"But I lost—"
"You survived." Kari's hand landed on her shoulder. "Big difference."
She turned to the assembled crowd. "This girl has been training for three weeks. Three weeks. And she just held her own against a master of the Snow Leopard style."
Murmurs rippled through the Beastkin. Impressed. Respectful.
Bara's voice boomed out. "Not bad, pup! Not bad at all!"
Kari looked back at Violet. "You're ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To learn the real techniques." Kari's smile turned predatory. "Everything until now was just making sure you wouldn't die when I taught you how to actually kill."
She gestured toward the crowd. "Go get that cut treated. Rest today. Tomorrow we begin the Claws of the Snow Leopard."
***