Nine

It was a minor miracle that she had a set of workout gear that matched.

She had a lot of half sets with her, but none matched, bar the bubblegum pink set she had put on.

Dousing herself in sunscreen, she eats some of the pretzels she got on their journey to here, rubbing her face to try wake herself up.

Securing her bun with an extra hair tie, she laces her trainers on, and throws a sweatshirt over her sports bra - she isn't sure where these guys prefer to train, and if it's indoors, she'll probably be cold.

Grabbing her phone, and securing it in the pocket of her leggings, she bounces out of her room, trying to figure out where the gym is.

Sonya snarls at her, and Avery rolls her eyes, tapping into her sense of smell to find her way downstairs. She manages to catch Alpha Roman's scent, and decides to follow it - he was the one who brought her up through this maze, so he should lead her out of it.

Following the trail intensely, she sticks to one side of the wall, noting the immense number of photographs and pictures hanging up.

Drawings by kids, family photographs, and many photos of the Lancaster family line the walls, making her raise a brow.

It's like they're compensating for something with this big show of affection and unity, Avery grumbles to Sonya, and the wolf tends to agree.

Avery keeps turning the corners, sticking to the bland scent as much as she could.

Every wolf has some sort of scent signature - everyone says she smells like fresh cookies, which is pretty particular. York smells like lavender to her, and her parents smell like cinnamon and cocoa. But she can't figure out what Roman's is, which puzzles her - it would be a lot easier if it were unique - or even legible.

She starts vaguely recognising where she is, her body flooding with pride at her little victory.

Her lace comes undone, and she scowls, bending down to re-tie it.

Out of nowhere, footsteps are heard and then moans.

Avery whips her head around, her lips pursed. What kind of packhouse wasn't soundproofed?

Shaking her head, she gets back up and freezes when she hears a very dramatic and loud, "Oh Roman!"

Trying not to laugh, she fails, bursting into giggles as she walks away with her hand over her mouth.

The footsteps can be heard again, and a ruffled Roman appears at one of the doors, looking frazzled and defensive.

"Oh. It's you," he mutters, "the gym is in the basement."

Avery is still giggling, and gives him a thumbs-up, dissolving into peals of laughter.

The shrill exclamation of pleasure was so dramatic; she can't help but continue to laugh.

Finding the stairs, she hops down them, still giggling to herself.

Sonya is shaking her head and rolling her eyes, scolding Avery for being so childish, but Avery ignores her.

Going down the numerous flights of stairs, Avery observes her surroundings, the packhouse appearing as a bustling hub of activity, with people milling around everywhere.

People stare at her curiously before going back to what they were doing.

She realises she's emitting some of her dominance, and she reigns it in quickly - if she's training teenagers, she wants them to think they can win so that she can twist their undoubtedly cocky attitudes.

"Gym?" She quickly asks one lady, who points her to a door, which leads to stairs.

Bouncing down the steps, she pulls open the first door at the bottom of the stairs, being greeted with steam and cries of "Get out!"

Avery quickly steps out and tries the middle door, which leads her to a huge gym, complete with any sort of training equipment she could think of. She notes the presence of a cage on the left side of the room, and a ring on the right side, with the middle clear of any equipment.

A rack of knives, blades, and instruments of torture sits in front of her, making her raise an eyebrow - she's shocked that this pack just leaves their weapons out like this. In her pack, everything is locked away until sanctioned or scheduled training. If teenagers are fighting, there always needs to be an adult present, for safety and protection reasons.

Avery walks up to the rack, running her fingers along the tails of a whip in curiosity.

She does this to a few more of the instruments, before hearing some hasty footsteps enter the room.

She turns around to see about fifty teenagers sitting on the ground, staring at her in awe. The footsteps came from about ten males who entered the room, all of whom look guilty for disturbing her trance and concentration.

"Sorry," some of them mumble, and she shrugs, eyeing the ones seated on the floor.

"Hello, I'm Deputy Alpha Wilcott from Rapid Rock, but you already know that if you're here," Avery announces, putting her shoulders back, and placing her hands behind her back.

"Today, we'll be doing some combat training. I think we'll start in the cage," she muses and sees a hand raise.

"Sorry, Deputy Alpha Wilcott, but Alpha Lancaster doesn't allow us to practice in the cage until we're sixteen," one girl whispers, looking particularly scared of Avery's reaction.

"Well, that's where Alpha Lancaster-" She almost sneers his name, completely unimpressed with his training practices, "is wrong. We train our pups in the cage from nine years of age, or as soon as they shift if that is before nine."

Shocked awe descends on the crowd, with rapid whispers being exchanged by some children.

"Whenever you're all ready, I'll be in the cage," she sighs, walking to the cage with ease.

She opens the door, and swings herself up into it, the door being almost five feet off the ground.

"I want a challenger and a referee. Volunteer or I'll pick myself," she almost snarls, looking down at the scared faces below her.

Pulling off her sweatshirt, she flings it out of the cage, stretching out her arms.

The girl who informed her about the age restrictions of this packs' cage volunteers to be referee and Avery nods in approval. She seems to be a quiet girl, but Avery knows that the shy wolves are usually the most observant, and make brilliant trackers - she'll be excellent at keeping score and observing.

One final boy walks out of the changing rooms, with six younger boys hurrying in front of him. The last boy is in no rush, looking extremely unimpressed.

He spots Avery in the cage, and his eyes flash black, the light reflecting off them.

This one is older than the others, and a wicked smile grows on his face as somebody mind links him the details.

"I volunteer as a challenger," he smirks, and the others clear a path for him up to the cage, some looking hesitant and concerned.

Avery observes him, and the cocky way in which he walks.

"I accept," she responds, walking to the other side of the cage, watching as he gets closer to the cage and starts to swing himself into it.

Cocky and stupid. Just the type she likes to beat.