Chapter 13 — The Savage’s Promise

I was swinging my fists in another brawl with some punks.

Maybe they wanted to prove they were strong. Maybe they just didn’t like me.

Didn’t matter.

I grinned as I crushed them. Their punches landed, sure—but they always dropped first. One by one, until I was the last one standing.

This was my life.

In Tangleweed, I always found myself in another fight. Didn’t matter how it started.

I didn’t mind.

Throwing blows felt natural. Familiar.

It felt like home.

Every day was the same.

Tangleweed was always loud.

Noise everywhere—voices, arguments, fists hitting flesh.

It was hot and rough, and it never slept.

Until one day, it changed.

An older woman approached me after a fight.

I was battered and bruised—still smiling.

She walked up to me without hesitation, eyes calm despite the mess around us.

“I watched you fight,” she said.

“You’re strong. But strength isn’t the point. Hit what’s open. Don’t chase the finish.”
I turned to her, head tilted.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She lifted her hand and showed me where to look—openings I’d been running past, moments I’d been crushing instead of cutting through.

“Why give me advice?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Old habit, I guess. Hard not to notice someone with potential.”

I snorted. “I’m leaving.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

I paused.

“…Catalina,” I said, then turned and walked away.

The next brawl I got into, her words surfaced while fists were flying.

I didn’t push harder.

I looked.

I saw the openings—and when I struck them, the fight ended faster than any brawl before.

She was right.

As I started to leave, she was there again.

Had she been watching me?

“I saw you,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You followed my advice.”

I nodded.

“Yeah,” I said. “It worked.”

“What else can you teach me?” I asked.

She smiled—just a little.

“Plenty, Catalina. But are you hungry? I just picked up some fresh fruit.”

I was hungry. Fighting always did that to me, and finding something to eat afterward wasn’t always easy.

And… I did love fruit.

“…Yeah,” I said, a bit slower. “I am.”

I hesitated, then glanced back at her.

“Um… what’s your name?”

“It’s Sage Ferncroft,” she said calmly.

“Okay, Sage,” I replied.

We left together and found a quiet spot to sit. She shared the fruit she’d brought—watermelon.

My favorite.

As we ate, she told me she used to be a trainer.

I listened.

“If you miss,” she said, tapping her fingers together as if tracing a line, “don’t reset. Flow.”

She explained what she meant—how hesitation created openings, how movement kept you alive.

I didn’t miss a word.

Sage told me I could come to her whenever I wanted—if I needed advice, and where to find her.

“Thank you, Sage,” I said, looking down.

“You’re welcome, Catalina,” she replied.

Most people didn’t treat me like that.

It was… nice.

Then I left.

I tried Sage’s advice.

I kept coming back—now and then.

She was always kind. Always glad to see me.

She shared food and drinks with me. Asked if I needed anything.

I liked Sage.

She was different.

One day, she told me she’d lost her daughter. She’d been a fighter.

In a strange way… Sage said I reminded her of her.

Maybe that’s why she saw me.

I was tough.

But eventually, I messed up.

I was injured—bad—from a fight that went too far.

The pain kept building, crawling through me, getting worse with every step. I didn’t know what to do.

So I did the only thing I could.

I tried to get to Sage.

My vision blurred before I reached her. The ground tilted.

Everything went dark—and I collapsed.

Sage found me.

She got help.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up—groggy, aching—staring at a hospital ceiling.

Sage was sitting beside the bed.

She grabbed my hand, holding it tight—her light skin warm against mine.

“Catalina,” she said.

Tears filled her light purple eyes, trembling beneath her soft lashes. Her lilac hair, streaked faintly with gray, framed her face as she leaned closer.

She looked scared.

For me.

They treated me, and Sage stayed by my side the whole time.

When they finally released me, they told me to rest—to really recover.

Sage didn’t hesitate.

She told me to stay with her until I got better.

So I did.

I’d never really had a home like this before.

Sage let me stay.

Nights at Sage’s place were quiet.

Too quiet at first.

I had a real bed.

And if I was hungry, I could eat whenever I wanted.

I couldn’t fight yet—but I could still move.

She told me I didn’t need to do anything. Just rest. Just get better.

I didn’t like that.

I told her I’d carry my weight. That I’d pay her back.

Sage was hesitant at first, but she gave me a few small things to do while I recovered.

It was nice—sleeping in a real bed.

Sage always made good meals.

I’d never lived with anyone before.

By the time I was almost fully healed, I could tell something was on her mind. She approached me slowly, like she was afraid to ask.

“Catalina…” Sage hesitated.

“Yeah, Sage?” I said.

She took a breath.

“Maybe… even when you’re fully healed, you could just live here. I wouldn’t mind.”

I froze. A tightness gripped my chest.

“Sage, I—”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I’d just… worry about you.”

I swallowed. “You sure?”

“Of course I am, Catalina,” Sage said.

Tears gathered at the corner of my eyes.

Sage told me she knew I was a fighter.

That it was part of who I was—and not something I could ever give up.

She was quiet for a moment, then looked at me carefully.

“I need you to promise me something,” she said.

I didn’t hesitate.

“I promise,” I said. “Whatever it is.”

“You can fight, but you have to come back to me. Every time,” she said.

I nodded. “I promise.”

After that, Sage told me she would be my coach.

She told me about the Floral Combat League.

A place where I could fight and not be treated like a menace—but be noticed.

Where I could use my love of fighting and my skill for something more than just brawls.

It was safer, too. They had gear. Medical staff. Rules.

As long as I got to fight, I’d enjoy it.

And if Sage trusted it—

I did too.

Sage told me her daughter had dreamed of fighting in the League one day.

That was part of why she’d become a coach in the first place. She believed her daughter was going to go far.

Losing her broke that dream—and Sage quit training after.

I clenched my fists.

I’d show this League how great Sage was as a coach.

How far we could go.

For the next few weeks, Sage trained me—preparing me properly this time.

Before we left Tangleweed for Everbloom City, I decided to do something I’d never cared about before.

A Tangleweed tradition.

Sage had a small tattoo on her neck—two ferns, one for her and one for her daughter.

I went and got one too.

A fern and a cactus.

It was tradition to mark someone important that way. Someone you chose.

I’d never had anyone worth doing that for before Sage.

When Sage saw the tattoo, she didn’t say anything.

She reached up and touched the fern on her own neck.

Then she looked at me and gave me a small smile.

Once that was done, we packed what we needed.

Then we left for the League—together.

This was my first time leaving Tangleweed.

I didn’t know what to expect from the League.

Everbloom City was a lot to take in.

The League even more so.

Sage got me set up.

We started getting matches.

With Sage’s training—and my skill—nothing was stopping me.

The fighters I faced weren’t ready for me.

I outmatched them.

This time, it was different.

After the fights, the crowds cheered.

They called my name.

I was someone here.

They even gave me a name.

The Savage Cacti.

And it was because of Sage.

But I knew it wouldn’t stay easy.

I was given my next match.

“This is who you’re fighting next, Catalina,” Sage said, turning the screen toward me.

“Lilith Ironwood,” I read.

“Yeah,” Sage added. “She’s related to Cliff Ironwood.”

I didn’t know who that was—but the name sounded familiar.

I watched a replay of her first match.

She was different from the fighters I’d faced so far. Tighter. Calmer. Smarter.

I felt it then.

Excitement.

Later, while I was finishing my training, I went to catch up with Sage. That’s when I saw her—by chance—working her elbows.

It might’ve been instinct. Something Sage had drilled into me.

Or maybe I just wanted the fight to be fun.

Either way, I gave her a piece of advice.

Sage called me over before I could say anything else.

After that, I trained harder than usual. Sage noticed.

As the match drew closer, I saw her again.

She’d improved.

Sharper. More dangerous.

Good.

This fight would be better than the rest.

But it would end the same way.

I’d come back to Sage.

And you wouldn’t stop me, Lilith Ironwood.