Teeth bit into his shoulder, and instinct took over. Fox twisted and snarled and scratched at the wolf on top of him, who bit down hard on his shoulder and tugged, thrashing his head, trying to rip a chunk free, his clawed hands digging into Fox’s chest.

As soon as it started, the two of them were ripped apart by a pair of strong hands. Fox yelped and whined as he felt Seb’s teeth tear through his flesh. The hand that had hold of his neck threw him outside, where he tumbled onto the grass. He groaned as his shoulder and chest throbbed.

“You little snitch!” Seb yelled, but he grunted right after as Evander socked him in the gut and threw him ten feet away.

“Shut it, Seb! You ratted yourself out!” Evander snapped. The sudden attack from the lone wolf and the intense amount of dominance radiating off the Alpha left Fox trembling, shocked and afraid at once as the adrenaline partially faded. He did the only thing that could keep him safe at that moment, which was curl into a ball with his arms tucked between his legs and his hands covering his head.

He stayed that way as he listened to Evander beat Seb. It wasn’t a long beating, just a few punches with Seb crying out from each heavy hit. Fox couldn’t imagine how much those punches hurt, and he started to tremble more as he awaited his turn.

“Alright, recruits!” he heard Evander shout. “We’re going to see how well you do with fighting a lone wolf.”

Fox listened as the recruits slowly stopped running and formed a group again. He heard feet scuff the grass, growing closer to where he was crouched on the ground, and tensed every muscle in his body in preparation.

Fox felt a boot nudge his side. Not a kick, just a nudge. “Get up,” Evander ordered. The aggression in his voice had toned way down. He didn’t sound as upset with Fox as he had been with Seb.

Fox had to force his body to unfold, not wanting any hesitation to come across as disobedience. He uncurled shakily, his limbs feeling weak. His heart was pounding in his chest for a different reason now. He didn’t want to fight over thirty werewolves.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” he whispered, struggling to stand.

“Just come on,” Evander replied, tucking his boot under Fox’s leg and nudging him again. His tone wasn’t impatient, however. Fox gritted his teeth and pushed himself up to his feet.

He couldn’t look anywhere but the ground. Evander grabbed the back of his neck and hauled him over to the other werewolves.

Seb was doubled over on the ground, an arm tucked around his stomach and his other hand cradling his head. He slid a death glare over at Fox, and Fox avoided it.

“Losers of the wrestling matches, you’ll be taking turns fighting Fox,” Evander announced. “And the winners will be fighting Seb.”

Fox wondered if this was Evander’s twisted version of kindness. 

The group of werewolves split into two. Evander hauled Fox over to a clear spot in the field, away from Seb and the winners, and instructed everyone to form a line. Evander dragged some spare sandbags and placed them in four spots, spaced out to form a square in the grass. 

“Stand there,” he told Fox, and Fox reluctantly complied, taking post on one side of the makeshift square. 

Evander went over to the other group and did the same with them. “Here are the rules. You can hit and kick and mimic scratching and biting, but do not use your claws or fangs. When the lone wolf hits the ground and stays down for five seconds, you’ve won.” 

The Alpha went back to pick up his binder from where he dropped it in the grass. Then he picked a spot between the two sparring groups to watch. “Begin.”

The bite wound in his shoulder was aching, throbbing, and the cuts in his chest were stinging fiercely. Fox hated fighting. He hated not knowing which move would be his last. He hated getting trapped or pinned down and not being able to escape. He hated the taste of someone else’s blood in his mouth. He hated the feeling of tendons catching under his claws. He hated stitching himself up afterwards. He hated the feeling of knuckles on his head and in his gut.

As the first werewolf stepped up, a well-built woman who was a foot shorter than him, Fox tried to shut out the pain in his body. He focused on her hands as she raised them up in fists by her face. She waited for him to make a move, but Fox just stood there. The tremors were gone. He accepted his position.

She swung. He ducked. She followed up with a kick. He dodged it. She swung again, one two, and he leapt back, one two.

She glanced at Evander. The Alpha just stood there and watched, face set in expressionless observation. She swung again, and Fox threw his arms up so she caught his forearms instead of his jaw. 

She growled and tried to land a punch on his injured shoulder. Fox twisted to the side just in time for her to only graze his bicep. The rest of the fight went like this, her attempting to hit him, and Fox twisting or skittering out of the way.

“Enough. Next wolf,” Evander ordered when it was obvious the fight was going nowhere. The woman exhaled heavily in frustration, glaring at Fox as she stormed out of the makeshift square. A male took her place. He was taller than Fox, but the same weight. 

The fight went the same way. This male attempted to land as many hits and kicks as possible, but Fox either dodged them or used his thighs and arms as shields to protect his face and stomach.

Evander ended the fight when two minutes of no progress passed. The next wolf was also male, but heavier set, and he didn’t attempt to hit right away, but instead bulldozed right into Fox and sent Fox sprawling to the ground. He landed with a grunt, but wasted no time in curling up like an armadillo and using his limbs as shields. The male whaled on him, hitting and kicking his shins and arms, catching his sides a few times, but Fox kept curled up tight and endured it.

“Enough, it’s been more than five seconds. Next wolf,” Evander said.

The rest of the fights went on like this. Distantly, Fox could hear Seb getting the same treatment, but he was clearly trying to fight back. Fox absently noticed that anytime Seb was getting too violent for the winners, Evander would press a button on a small remote in his hands, and the shock collar around Seb’s neck would go off, subduing him.

Seb’s fights ended sooner than Fox’s, only because he had less opponents. Fox kept up his shield of limbs, dodging when he could, letting himself get tackled or bulldozed again and again and staying curled up anytime he was on the ground. He never tried to fight back. He just took whatever landed and tried to avoid the rest.

By the end of it, he was covered in bruises and aching all over. When Evander finally called it quits, Fox dropped to his sore knees and tried to catch his breath.

“Alright the lot of you, form a line for the obstacle course,” Evander ordered. Fox peeked up through his sweaty hair to see Seb lying still on the ground, groaning softly.

Evander kicked Fox hard in the chest, sending him flying onto his back in a split second. Fox’s breath got knocked out of him, and he laid there gasping, struggling to get in a breath. Evander watched with narrow displeased eyes.

“What kind of werewolf are you? I’ve never seen a wolf not try to defend themself against a threat. You should’ve snapped halfway through those fights,” he said. “Every other lone wolf here would’ve given up your tactic. They would’ve fought back at some point.”

Fox wanted to say that he didn’t feel like any kind of werewolf, and it was the entire reason why he had renamed himself. But he was still struggling to breathe.

Evander waited. Fox finally managed to suck in a full breath, and he gasped as he rolled over onto his side. “I… I don’t like fighting.”

“You don’t have to like it to do it,” Evander bit out. “You think this timid act will last you forever?” He crouched down and grabbed a fistful of Fox’s hair, using it to angle Fox’s face up at him. Fox winced at the sting, unwillingly meeting Evander’s gaze. 

“You’re going to snap eventually. And I’ll be here when that day comes.”