I bend double, stomach twisting itself inside out and dry retch as my body tries to vomit out the contents of my early breakfast.
A washing machine motion makes me spasm as I gag once or twice, sweating profusely, limbs shaking with exertion, and heart working so hard, I think Iâm having a heart attack, and itâs about to explode through my chest.
I can feel my pulse inside my ears and in my throat while I use my hands on my knees to brace my body and gasp for breath to fill my laboring lungs. I feel like Iâm on the verge of dying.
âHere, drink some water, and itâll pass. Take a breather.â Colton holds out a cold bottle toward me, foggy with condensation and straight from the ice bucket.
I canât even muster up the ability to reach out and take it. Instead, I cough up phlegm, my throat burning painfully and exhale wheezily in some sort of response. I canât believe how unfit I am.
âItâll get easier. Youâre just at the start of building stamina,â he says, placing the bottle on the grass below me near my feet, and sinks onto his haunches to gaze up at me, tilting his face and smiling handsomely.
A bead of sweat runs from my messy ponytail down past my ear and somehow travels across my cheek to drip off the tip of my nose.
I can feel more running down the center of my spine, between my shoulder blades, and I shudder.
âIf I⦠make it⦠that⦠far.â Itâs an effort and a half to get the words out, and he grins at me, amused by my uselessness.
Weâve been out here for hours. Stretching, running, exercising, jumping boards, and climbing obstacles. I never knew physical training could inflict so much agony.
âYouâre doing fine. The first time my father put me through this, I blacked out and woke up at his feet, covered in my vomit.â He shrugs with that cute-boy smirk as though itâs some sort of proud memory.
I squint at him, unsure why thatâs a helpful or encouraging thing to say, and he chuckles, that sexy half smile of his bringing out his dimples, and firmly pats me on the back.
I feel like heâs being more condescending than sympathetic and inhale with effort, sure my lungs might no longer be working to total capacity, and then blow out a long hot exhale.
Iâm trying to recover enough to take the damn drink I sorely need.
The noise of a field full of people of various ages, all in different stages of training, is all around us, voices echoing among the rumble of vehicles and building work in the further distance.
It feels like a school sports day, with more shouting and yelling and older people. Also, a lot fitter because I donât remember my class ever taking on a course like this and doing it without dying.
The entire valley is in movement, with orders being carried out, and thereâs been an ongoing stream of trucks all day so far, bringing supplies, materials, and wolves from farther down the remote valley outskirts.
They started construction farther down, and rumbling, and thudding noises were coming from that direction on the wind.
They were quick to assemble and put things in motion at the crack of dawn, and itâs humbling to see the force that is Santo in the flesh.
The worst of the internal burn inside me calms down with the non-movement of my limbs and the three minutes of rest.
I grab at the bottle and manage to straighten up, if somewhat painfully, my body trembling and my legs weak.
I canât take it anymore, slumping down on my butt ungracefully and accepting fate. Iâm done.
It doesnât help that weâre moving from spring to summer, and the sun is hitting its highest point of the day and slowly roasting us all to a crisp.
Not the best time to take your unfit self and put it through military-style athletics.
Colton looks up toward a podium where senior wolves stand, issuing orders at the masses, and nods silently. I guess someone is talking to him, and he flashes me back a sympathetic smile.
âYouâll be pleased to know you have a two-hour rest and refresh session to take it easy and lie face down on your bed.â He extends a hand to me, straightening up to stand himself.
I bat it away with another frown. âIâm going to lie right here, thank you very much, and I hope to God I wake up and this was all a bad dream.â
Itâs a better attempt at verbal conversation, but I still sound like a dying asthmatic pig. If only that were a strong possibility.
I let myself slump back into the short prickly terrain, cushioning my ungraceful fall, and stare up at the cloudless blue sky, so utterly relieved to let my body finally stop.
It would be a beautiful day if I could appreciate it.
The fatigue washes over me and highlights how done my limbs are and how unlikely theyâre going to cooperate or recover anytime soon.
I canât take any more, even if I wanted to, and hours of physical exertion have highlighted how unfit I am, while Colton barely broke a sweat.
âDo you need me to get a wheelchair or give you a piggyback?â Heâs mocking me now, his tone light, that air of cheeky, and I can tell his dimples will be on show.
I shove at his foot weakly as he gets up, comes close, and toe-digs me softly, trying to push me into action.
He towers over me, offering a little shade from the direct sunlight, and I take a second to admire the formidable build of my Adonis.
Heâs in a gray tracksuit that molds to his perfect muscular body, and, even in this heat, he has it zipped up to the top of the stand-up collar.
There is no hint of being overheated, sweaty, or even reddening, and I wonder whatâs up with that.
âNope. Go away and leave me here to become one with the daisies. Iâve decided this isnât the life for me.â Itâs humor on my part.
The atmosphere between us today is a lot less strained than last night. He seems brighter, more like his usual self today, working and training in the sub-pack.
I can tell he is back in standard form. Carmen even managed to irritate him less, as we were all so focused on what we had to do.
This morning, at dawn, I started with a twenty-minute yoga-type bunch of stretches, and a warmup, followed by a two-mile run that was a major shock to my system.
Iâve now added sadist to his list of less desirable traits because heâs a bossy asshole who kept running behind me and pushing me along by my butt when I lagged, refusing to let me stop no matter how much I begged him.
Or maybe it was just an excuse to put his hands on my ass. Either way, I didnât appreciate it while panting like an old person trying to climb a staircase.
âCanât. The grass cutters come out at noon, and I donât think you would look good shredded and decorating the field. Come on, lazy. We need to shower, eat, and head out this afternoon. We have things to do.â
That brings me back to reality and hits me with a note of seriousness. I know what we have to do, and whether I want to or not, Iâm being dragged along.
Luckily, his father hasnât been around today to see me among his best because I know he will not like this slow integration Colton has me doing. He believes that, from yesterday, I became part of his sub-pack.
The plan this afternoon is to split into trucks to start visiting the villages around the mountain. Juan wants us to issue notices and has given orders to âdeal withâ those who disobey.
Colton convinced him that force wasnât necessary or advisable in the end. I guess Juan slept on it, and this morning, he issued new orders among the pack leaders.
We must deliver face-to-face written notice that might give them time to come around to having them up and move the few miles to the Santo domain. I know itâs because of Colton standing up to him.
Colton has a good heart, and despite years of thinking him arrogant and careless of people below him, looking back, I realize he just stuck to his kind; in his old mindset, the packs were rivals.
He had his close-knit circle, and he didnât like entertaining anyone new. As everyone else did, he saw me as one of the cast asides and did not attempt to interact with me.
His defense of the people around the mountain tells me I had him all wrong.