Chapter Twelve #2
He walks me through the daily routines—feeding schedules, exercise requirements, training protocols. My pack will be six young sprites, all around a year old and ready to begin serious training.
“Here they are,” Master Jung says, stopping at a row of kennels housing slightly smaller dogs.
They're a mix of breeds—two Malinois, three Dobermans, and a Shepherd. All of them erupt into excited barking when we approach. After reviewing the safety procedures and showing me where all the equipment is stored, Master Jung hands me a set of keys.
“Would you like to meet them properly?”
I nod eagerly. The first sprite I let out is one of the Malinois, a female with sleek brown fur that immediately bursts into flames as she bounds around my legs. I laugh as she prances in circles, her tail wagging furiously.
“Easy there,” I tell her, projecting calm authority like I do with Soot. She settles slightly, though flames still dance along her back.
One by one, I introduce myself to each sprite, walking them around the training yard and getting a feel for their personalities.
The Western Shepherd is bold and pushy, constantly testing boundaries.
Two of the Dobermans are more reserved, watching me with careful intelligence.
The other Malinois is pure enthusiasm, while the last Doberman seems to be the natural leader of the group.
“Good girl,” I praise as one of the Dobermans executes a perfect heel. Her ears prick forward attentively, and I can tell she's going to be a quick study.
The morning flies by as I work with them individually, learning their quirks and establishing a rapport.
They're definitely more challenging than Soot—wilder, more aggressive, with that edge of barely contained power that makes them perfect for guard work.
But I can already tell I'm going to love working with them.
By the time I finish the individual sessions, all six sprites are considerably calmer, though still prone to random bursts of flame when they get excited.
I let the sprites chase each other around the training yard, their excited yips and barks echoing off the stone walls. Flames trail behind them like comet tails as they dart and weave, playing an enthusiastic game of keep-away with the fireproof ball.
The female Malinois bounds over, dropping the slobber-covered ball at my feet. Her tail wags furiously as flames dance along her spine.
“Want it?” I tease, picking up the ball and waving it. She bounces on her front paws, letting out short, excited barks. I toss it across the yard, and she tears after it, the other sprites joining the chase.
I grab the tug rope when they bring it back, engaging in an energetic game of tug-of-war with the Malinois. The rope glows cherry-red between us as she growls playfully, her black eyes sparkling.
Movement catches my attention, and I spot Dohwan watching through the fence, his arms crossed as he leans against a post. His expression is unreadable but clearly judgmental. I deliberately turn my back to him, focusing on the sprites as they romp and play.
The sun hangs low on the horizon by the time I herd them back into their kennels, making sure each one has fresh water and giving them praise and pets. I'm covered in ash and singed fur, exhausted but satisfied. Mental note: buy more charcoal. These sprites go through it faster than Soot does.
Dohwan waits by the gate as I emerge, and I give him a curt nod. We walk in silence through the grounds, the evening air cooling around us.
“That didn't look like training,” he says suddenly. “You were just playing with them.”
I roll my eyes. “They're young sprites. They need playtime to burn off energy, and I need to build trust with them before starting serious training. They have to know me first.”
“Why?” His brow furrows. “What's wrong with establishing authority and obedience from the start?”
“Because charging in and demanding instant obedience doesn't work on animals or people,” I say pointedly. “They need to trust you first.”
Dohwan shoots me a sharp look. “That's how fae are taught.”
I scoff. “Yeah? And how's that working out? Maybe you should consider adjusting your technique.”
I watch Dohwan from the corner of my eye as we walk, noting how his jaw remains clenched.
The sun casts long shadows across the grounds, painting everything in rich golds and deep crimsons.
Around us, fae drift through the gardens and pathways—some heading home after their duties, others just arriving for evening shifts.
I scan their faces as we pass, searching for any features that might match my own—something I've been doing almost habitually since arriving at Ruby Hall. Some distant part of me hopes I'll just stumble across my mother by chance, recognize something of myself in a stranger's face.
Near the entrance hall, laughter draws my attention to an ornate pagoda. A group of females around my age cluster inside, their voices carrying across the courtyard as they chatter and giggle. Their clothes and jewelry mark them as nobility—all perfectly coordinated in shades of ruby and gold.
As our path takes us past the pagoda, one of the females suddenly stands, her eyes locking onto Dohwan.
“Dohwan!” she calls out in a musical voice. “Wait up!”
Beside me, Dohwan goes rigid. His steps falter as the female practically floats toward us, her long black hair styled in an elaborate updo that probably took hours to achieve. Her dress is a deep ruby red that catches the light with each graceful movement.
“Ga-in,” Dohwan greets flatly, his expression carefully neutral.
I watch with raised eyebrows as Ga-in closes the distance between them and immediately drapes herself around Dohwan's neck like an overly affectionate cat. Her tinkling laugh fills the air as she presses against him.
“I've missed you,” she practically purrs, batting her eyes up at him. “You never come to see me anymore.”
Dohwan's face could be carved from stone. His hands remain stiffly at his sides as Ga-in continues to cling to him, not returning her embrace. If anything, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
“I've been busy,” he says shortly.