The sun dipped lower as the last training bell tolled — the clang of Evening Assessment Bouts (Dominance Clash).

With time and loud instructions from Instructor Mosely, Cadets formed two rows in the arena yard, shirts peeled off or tucked, boots grounded, scent glands opened wide.

It was the last drill of the day.

No blades. No fists.

Just scent. Will. And presence. Power.

A raw show of who had the stronger wolf.

Elowyn swallowed as Master Mosely paced between the lines. His voice ...