Mira
“Again, he said, tone bored.
I was panting, hands on my knees and head tucked between my legs.
“Water,” I begged with a dry throat. “I need water.”
“You can have water after you break the grab at least once,” he said for the fifth time in a row. He was a record-player, not an instructor!
“I can’t!” I wheezed. My throat was like sandpaper as I tried to breathe. My head throbbed, and my shoulder screamed.
He’d said the injuries were healing quickly, but it certainly didn’t feel like it under the fresh layer of gauze he’d applied.
“Remember the steps and take them slow,” he said. Despite his stern lesson, his words were constantly calm and even.
“I can’t!” I wailed, knees starting to shake. I was just proving to him what a weak, worthless wolf I was. I
