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.
