Barnaby made a strangled sound that was half laugh, half dying animal.
I closed my eyes and prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me whole, to transport me to any dimension where this conversation had never happened.
Nana swept toward the door, her heels clicking with the rhythm of victory. Hunter followed, still waving with the dedication of someone who genuinely believed every person on the planet was his friend. Fifi yipped once from inside her bag, possibly in farewell, possibly in judgment.
The door closed behind them with a decisive click. I let out a breath and turned toward Brok and Barnaby. “Well… That was eventful. But we have more important things to worry about. Come on, Barnaby. Tell me. How are you doing with those protein bites?”
7
AFoxy Challenge
Brok
“One more. Come on, Barnaby. Just three more. Fight through the pain!”
I watched Barnaby heave as he struggled through his last push-ups, and suppressed the urge to scream in frustration.
From the moment we’d arrived in the Iron Grove this morning, it had become obvious that it would be a bad day. Whatever miracles Hazel was pulling off with her cooking normally worked wonders on Barnaby’s moods. But today, he seemed to have woken up rebellious and was refusing to cooperate fully.
I was at my wit’s end. But I couldn’t give up, not now.
Hazel’s voice echoed through my head, sweet but chastising.Be encouraging, Brok! You can do it!
“You can do it!” I echoed my mental version of Hazel. I wasn’t a good cheerleader by any account, but the real Hazel hadn’t led me astray so far.
Barnaby’s body trembled, but against all odds, he finished his set. Then, he moaned in protest and collapsed onto the ground. “I can’t. This is… too much.”
I checked my stopwatch and frowned at the pathetic numbers glowing back at me. “Hardly. You’re getting better. We just need a little extra push.”
“An extra push? My body is staging a coup.” He leaned against a stone and clutched it close, as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. “My glutes have filed for political asylum. My hamstrings are writing a strongly worded letter to the United Nations.”
I hauled him upright, refusing to let his dramatics get to me. “Your body is not staging a coup. Your body is adapting. That is what bodies do. They adapt or they die.”
“I’m choosing death.”
I pulled out my training log and flipped to today’s schedule with more force than necessary. “Death is not on today’s agenda. Sprints are on today’s agenda. We finish the sprints, we complete the hill work, and then we can stop by The Cocoa Bean.”
Barnaby’s ears perked up slightly. “Hazel’s?”
I grabbed his water bottle from where it lay in the grass and shoved it into his trembling paws. “If you complete the workout.”
This was strategic motivation. Barnaby responded to food-based incentives the way normal people responded to oxygen. The promise of Hazel’s chocolates could makehim do things that no amount of yelling or scientific explanation could achieve.
“She mentioned testing a new recipe yesterday.” I watched him chug water like a man—well, a rabbit—dying of thirst. “Something with ginger.”
“Ginger?” Barnaby shot me a tremulous smile. “That sounds heavenly.”
I was pretty sure that if I’d tried feeding Barnaby ginger last year, he’d have thrown it at my head and started crying. But Hazel had a way of making even the craziest things work, and both Barnaby and I were weak for it.
“Fine,” Barnaby decided at last. “But if I die, you have to tell Hazel I died dreaming about her chocolates.”
I pointed up the hill with my stopwatch, ready to start his pathetic shuffle toward improvement. “You are not going to—”
Barnaby went completely still.
His entire body locked up like someone had unplugged him. His whiskers started twitching, and his fur stood on end. The water bottle slipped from his paw and hit the grass with a wet thud.
I inhaled deeply, expecting the regular scents of the Iron Grove. Hazel’s chocolates, Barnaby’s sweat, and fresh grass. Instead, I got a faceful of musk.
