Nemophilist
(n.) A haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and it's beauty and solitude.

The elderly woman, Cora, had explained to me the dynamics of the pack. She gave me a whole list of do's and dont's and although I was nodding and humming at her words, I wasn't listening.

I didn't appreciate the way she was ordering me around already. I can honestly see where Aurelius gets it from.

"So how did your talk go?" She asked. I was about to nod and hum again when I realised what she was asking.

"Talk with who?" I asked. Aside from the doctor interrupting us halfway to give me some meds, it had been Cora and I alone in my hospital room the whole time.

"With my grandson," she answered like it was obvious.

"It went okay," I shrugged. My chest began to ache thinking over his cold indifference to my pain and the threat he blackmailed me with.

"One thing I know about Aurelius is that nothing is ever okay with him," I scoffed at her words. "I know he can be difficult but he has a lot on his shoulders. His past haunts him," she whispered.

I clenched my fists and let out a humourless laugh.

"And what about me? What about my pain and suffering? What about my past?" I growled, turning to her. I could feel my chest constrict and grow hot. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the burning rage.

I ripped the blankets off me, pulling out the needles in my arm and stood up. Cora just watched me with wide eyes. She looked like she was going to protest but she must have saw something in my eyes.

"I'm going to shift," she nodded and silently pointed to a pile of clothes on a nearby chair. I picked them up, storming out of the hospital and into the snowy forest.

I shifted into my wolf, tearing the hospital gown instantly. I left the fresh clothes by a tree as I sprinted through the forest, burning off my anger and stretching my muscles.

After about an hour, I had calmed down enough and trotted back to my clothes, slipping them on. A female must have donated the clothes to me. The grey sweatpants were a little tight on me, as was the pink thin strapped tank top.

Still not wanting to go back inside, I decided to walk around. The smell of pine was comforting and the snow beneath my bare feet was refreshing. I had never spent so long away from nature and those two weeks in the cell had taken a toll on me, more so than I'd like to admit.

I also hadn't meditated in a while. My emotions were getting the best of me and I found it harder to control myself.

Suddenly, I caught several scents and I could hear voices shouting and barking out orders. Intrigued, I made my way over to the sounds. The thick trees suddenly ended and gave way to a large clearing. What I saw surprised me.

Several men stood in the clearing, at least fifty of them, paired off and practicing hand to hand combat. Three figures walked around them, watching and giving pointers.

I even caught sight of a table on one end, filled with an array of silver weapons. Twenty more men stood near the tables, some sparring each other with swords and some practicing throwing daggers and axes at targets.

They were all shirtless and in shorts. Some were heavily tattooed, some with smooth skin and some heavily scarred, but all were well built and muscular, their skin gleaming with sweat.

It was quite a sight to behold and in my little daze, I failed to notice that the three figures had spotted me and were standing defensively, ready to attack.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" The palest one spoke. His skin was fair and his hair even fairer. His eyes were an icy blue that I was quickly becoming familiar with.

Despite my perfect hearing, the distance between us was making communicating awkward so I cautiously approached them. Some of the men stopped training to watch me pass them and I caught a pair of brown eyes amongst them that looked so familiar.

Shrugging it off for now, I turned back to face the issue at hand. Stopping a couple feet in front of the three figures, I kept my body relaxed, and my mind calm, despite my instincts begging me to leave. Being surrounded by all these threats was making a part of me angsty and jittery but I pushed it away.

"I'm Artemis. I was just walking around when I stumbled across this place. I don't mean any harm," The fair one snarled at me in response.

"Bullshit, why are you not in the prisons?" He took a threatening step forward, his face twisted into an ugly snarl.

What is it with this blue eyed family and being so fucking angry all the time?

"What he means is you are the rogue we captured not too long ago," I turned to the man that spoke. He had dark slanted eyes and matching dark hair. His features were impossibly sharp.

"If you were trying to escape, then you've failed miserably, you've literally walked into the warrior training area," he continued. I smiled at that and shook my head.

"No I served my time. I was told I had to fulfil my new role and all the responsibilities it brought on," I explained, trying to keep everything as vague as I could. He raised a sharp brow at me in response.

The dark skinned man guffawed loudly, slapping the pale one on the back. "New role? See! I told you she was his ma-," he was cut off by a punch to the gut by the pale guy.

He retaliated by punching him back in the jaw and the two got into a fight, tumbling and rolling on the floor. I just watched then, unsure of what to do.

"Come, let me show you around," the other guy gestured with his head. I stepped up besides him.

"I am Zane Shang, Head Warrior of the Phantom Pack," He introduced. He held out a hand which I placed in his to shake but he turned it around and placed a kiss on the back of it.

The gesture wasn't flirty or laced with dark intentions, but rather, it was oddly respectful in the way he bowed over my hand and cradled it gently.

He let go and snapped his gaze to the warriors around us.

"Everybody back to training!" He yelled and they all continued as they did before.

Zane continued walking and I followed besides him, admiring the skills of all the wolves training. I could feel my fingers and toes tingles and my breath hitch. The way they moved was precise and calculated, almost like a synchronised dance. They were all swift and efficient with their tactics and it was no wonder they were one of the most feared warriors.

"Would you like to try?" The words surprised me and I turned to see Zane watching me curiously. "You look like you want to join," he pointed out.

"Yes I would, but I'm not nearly as skilled," I admitted. As a rogue, I had to learn to fight from such a young age. I was barely talking when I had to defend myself from monsters. And although I was great at it, my fighting style was very different from theirs.

My moves were more erratic and messy as most rogues were. Every rogue I fought had a different style too and I found myself adjusting my technique every time.

But I was eager to see if I could somehow take one of their fighters on.

"Come," he gestured to a clear space and began pulling off his shirt. His light tan skinned was covered in scars and had several tallies tattooed across his chest and back. I blinked at him, unsure of what he was doing.

"You can practice with me," he gave a quirk of his brow as the corners of his lip twitched. I stepped closer to him, standing a few feet in front. I quickly pulled my hair into a tight braid, brushing the caramel strands away from my face.

I mimicked his stance, standing shoulder width apart, one foot in front of another. "Ready?" He asked. I nodded.

For a second we circled each other and I kept my knees bent and arms up, prepared for his attack. "Don't go easy," I warned. He just smirked.

He lunged for me, throwing his fist at my right side and I dodged. He seemed to anticipate this and aimed for my left which I just about managed to block.

His knee came up to jut me in the chest but I stopped him with my hands. His hands grabbed my shoulders and pushed my back so I fell on the ground.

I ignored the pain and watched as he was about to lunge for me, aiming for my throat and I rolled out of his way and scrambled up. He got up on his feet and began circling me again.

For a while it continued that way. He would throw punches and kicks and I would just about manage to dodge most of them. He did land a few good ones but I shrugged off the pain easily.

I was just getting started.

I had quickly learnt his technique and style which was rather predictable. He had a smirk on his face as he circled me again, but it soon slipped off his face as I dodged and dived his punches, twirling just out of his reach.

By now we had a few pairs of eyes on us.

And by a few I meant many.

After enjoying the satisfaction of watching his surprised and frustrated face, I quickly switched up from defence to offence.

As he charged at me, claws bared to dig into me, I dived between his legs, quickly flipping and standing up. Before he could turn around I had kicked the back of his knees with all my strength and jumped onto his back as he buckled.

My arms wrapped around his neck and he clawed at my arms, quickly falling onto his back to crush me between his weight and the ground.

I ignored my protesting ribs as I struggled to breath. His claws dug into my upper arms but I elongated my own claws and pressed them firmly against his throat from behind.

He tensed but relaxed, releasing his claws from my arm and I let him go. He sprung up from the floor and turned to face me with an unreadable expression as I still lay on the ground.

After a moments silence, he smiled at me, holding his hand out for me which I took.

"That was impressive for a rogue. I didn't think you'd ever fight back," he chuckled. "You need to work on your form though, I can help," he smirked.

"You need to work on your moves. You're too predictable. I can help," I smirked back at him. His smirk widened even further and it looked closer to a smile.

Maybe sticking around wouldn't be so bad.