They walked away from the building, through underbrush, and into a clearing of twisty black Maarva trees.
They quickly stripped off their tunics to spar bare-chested. Reznik was little more than a pup, but he was of the Reginar bloodline, and Treffon would not underestimate him. A true Thorolf warrior knew pride was a weakness, and he watched the younger man carefully as they circled.
A flicker in Reznik’s eye was enough to betray his intentions as surely as if he’d yelled them out loud. As he sprang, Treffon turned in to the attack, bracing his cousin with his forearm and using his hip to throw the younger man, flipping him onto his spine with bone-jarring force. Zura and Madok, watching from the edge of the grove, groaned in sympathy.
Grinning, Treffon shifted easily from one foot to the other, waiting for Reznik to find his wind and his feet. Had this been a real battle, the pup would have been dead. As it was, this session would be merely painful and instructive.
All of a sudden, a strange sensation swept over Treffon – a yearning so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet. It seemed to tug at his heart, and he gasped for breath.
While he was distracted, Reznik scrambled to his feet, pulled a knife from his boot and stabbed Treffon in the gut.
“Treffon! No!” Zura cried out in alarm, rushing forward.
“Coward!” Madok shouted to his son, face dark with fury as Treffon staggered back a step.
“I am not,” Reznik scoffed to his father, his eyes blazing with malicious triumph. “His own father used to stage such surprise attacks on him. He said that any Vulfan who was not prepared for battle at all times did not deserve to live.”
“That is true,” Treffon said, controlling his breathing.
He concentrated hard. His muscles began to knit back together, and his blood vessels sealed up. The knife fell out and clattered on the ground. He bent down, picked it up, and tossed it back to Reznik.
What would have killed a human, what would have taken an ordinary Vulfan days to heal, took Treffon minutes, not just because of his Reginar genes, but because of the brutal training he had subjected himself to for decades.
Reznik looked at Treffon in alarm, no doubt anticipating a savage beating for his insolence – and what was quite possibly a thinly veiled attempt on Treffon’s life.
And Treffon would have delivered it…but a sudden intense feeling of panic exploded inside him. Actual fear. And then it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He’d never experienced such a thing before. Where were these strange feelings coming from?
It must be the darkness, come to claim him.
It wouldn’t be long now. He only hoped he could meet his true mate once he’d passed into the great beyond.
“Leave me,” he gritted out.
“Reginar…” Zura took a step towards him, looking worried.
“Leave me!” he shouted. “All of you!”
