Chapter 60: First training

Frost decided to accept that response without comment.

Instead, he looked back at the schedule, studying the first few sessions while Ava tapped the information plate and closed the display.

"We won’t follow the whole schedule today," she said, slipping the disc back into its place. "I need to see what you can actually do first. Tomorrow, you’ll be here at half past five."

Frost nodded, feeling a little relieved. Unfortunately, that relief lasted only until she pointed towards the open space in the middle of the room.

"Go stand over there."

He did as she asked, and Ava followed, setting the information plate on a bench before facing him.

She showed him a few stretches, beginning with his shoulders and arms before moving down to his waist and legs.

Frost quietly fought the urge to watch her soft curves before pushing the perverted thoughts away; he copied her as closely as he could, though she kept interrupting to correct something, whether it was the position of his feet or the way he was bending.

"Slowly," she said when he pulled his right arm across his chest. "You’re stretching, not trying to rip it off."

Frost loosened his grip. He knew she probably hadn’t meant anything by that particular remark, but the image it brought to mind was unpleasant enough that he looked down at the arm for a moment, flexing his fingers.

Ava followed his gaze, then looked back at his face.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," he replied quickly. "Just remembered something."

She watched him for another moment before demonstrating the movement again, this time without commenting.

Frost followed her example, keeping his attention on the slight pull through his shoulder rather than the memory of what had happened to it.

By the time they finished warming up, he was already breathing a little heavily.

It was hardly a promising start, though Ava didn’t seem surprised. She led him out of the room and along a corridor he had passed through before, then opened a set of broad doors at its end.

Frost stepped inside and slowed.

This training hall was considerably larger than the room they had just left.

A wide strip of floor ran around its edges, enclosing several marked areas where recruits were practising.

Some were working with wooden weapons, while others were lifting weights or taking turns striking thick padded posts.

The dull sounds of impacts mixed with footsteps and the occasional shouted instruction, and the air was noticeably warmer than it had been in the corridor.

A few people glanced their way, though most quickly returned to what they were doing.

"We’ll use the outside lane," Ava said, pointing towards the strip running along the walls. "Start with a light jog. Don’t sprint, and don’t try to match anyone else’s pace."

Frost looked at the people already running around the hall.

Most moved with a steady rhythm, their breathing controlled even as they passed him, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that her warning had been intended specifically to stop him from embarrassing himself.

"How many laps?"

"Start running. I’ll tell you when to stop."

That was considerably less reassuring than a number would have been, but Frost stepped onto the lane and began to jog. Ava walked towards the inside edge, keeping an eye on him as he made his way past the first corner.

The first lap wasn’t terrible. His legs felt a little stiff, but once he settled into a pace, the movement became easier.

For a brief moment, he even thought that perhaps he had been worrying too much.

He had spent weeks carrying monstrous packs through the hunting grounds, after all. Surely, some of that strength had survived his time in bed.

By the fourth lap, he was no longer quite so certain.

His breathing grew louder, and sweat began gathering beneath his hair. By the sixth, the top Ava had given him was sticking to his back, while an unpleasant ache spread through his thighs.

He slowed without meaning to, only noticing when an older recruit passed him for what felt like the fifth time.

"Shorter steps," Ava called as he approached. "You’re reaching too far forward. Keep your shoulders relaxed."

Frost tried to follow the instructions, though relaxing anything was becoming difficult when every part of him seemed increasingly determined to complain.

He made it around another corner, then another, before finally coming back towards her with his mouth open and his breathing somewhere between a pant and a wheeze.

"Enough. Walk."

He stopped so abruptly that she frowned.

"I said walk. Keep moving."

Frost obeyed, dragging himself along the lane while Ava fell into step beside him. For a while, he couldn’t manage anything beyond breathing, and she seemed content to let him struggle in peace.

Eventually, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

"How long was that?"

"Just under twelve minutes."

Frost turned towards her, waiting for the part where she admitted she was joking. It didn’t come.

"Twelve?"

"You slowed down quite a bit near the end."

He looked ahead again, feeling deeply betrayed by his own sense of time. He would have been willing to swear he had been running for at least half an hour.

"And tomorrow you want me to do that for an hour?"

"At a pace you can maintain," she replied. "I told you the schedule would be adjusted. There’s no point making you run until you collapse if you can’t do anything afterwards."

Frost gave her a doubtful glance, but she was already studying the information plate again, entering something while they walked.

It seemed the schedule wasn’t a sentence she had handed down just to watch him suffer.

That was good to know, though he wished she had made it clear before he started imagining his death somewhere between breakfast and lunch.

Once his breathing had settled, Ava allowed him a drink before leading him towards an unoccupied corner of the hall. A mat had been laid out beside a low rack of weights, and she pointed at it.

"Let’s see how you handle the strength exercises."

What followed was a rather thorough examination of everything Frost’s body was currently bad at.

He managed the first few squats reasonably well, though Ava kept correcting his stance.

The push-ups were less flattering. His arms began trembling before he reached ten, and when he tried to force out another, his elbows gave way, and his chest dropped onto the mat.

He stayed there for a moment, his face turned to the side.

"I’m beginning to miss carrying the pack," he muttered.

"What pack?"

"The one I used to carry for hunting parties. At least it only wanted to kill my back."

Ava looked down at him, then crouched beside the mat.

"Get up. Your hands were too far forward."