A Journey of Skill

She’d awakened early. The only light was the eerie flickering from the mouth of the corridor at the back of the main chamber. That was from the fire Artashir and Aello had started yesterday. It had taken a bit of getting used to, but she’d found that burying her face against her mother and Aramis made it easier to ignore and fall asleep.

Now she was restless, shifting to and fro, and likely jostling her brother in the process. Her father was out, patrolling, so it was just her, mother, and Aramis, and the soft sleeping sounds a couple of alcoves down from Paladin’s alcove. He’d been working hard, treating the new girl, Sterling, for her pain.

She’d helped out to the best of her young ability, fetching the herbs he asked for and measuring them out. She’d enjoyed it, and knew that if she had been born the second born, she’d have been quite happy to settle as being a healer in Celestial. Or… maybe a Paladin. She did enjoy learning to fight.

Unable to drift off again, Aurielle gave a soft huff and rolled away from her mother and brother to slink out of the alcove and out to the ravine. The tinkle of water to her right suddenly reminded her of her thirst, and she spent several seconds slaking it.

All around her were the sounds of a night that hadn’t given passage to dawn yet. Crickets and grasshoppers sang a chorus, and soft hoots of owls, chirps of night birds, and far off rustlings of deer and smaller prey animals could be heard.

She was half grown. Half way to being a yearling. Halfway to being able to try her first spar, either here at home or with a stranger on the Battlefield. Or, even better, with Amos! Her tail tapped the ground at the thought, a grin appearing on her features.

She wondered how good he’d be by then, and how skilled she’d be. Only way to find out was to do it. But she did wish she could spar now. She wanted to test herself against an experienced fighter. She knew her defenses, now. Almost all of them. And Paladin had given her an in-depth lesson of anatomy, and where the best places were to rip into with her teeth. It was a healthy lesson in why you should never attack a healer you knew nothing about. Healers knew precisely the best places to make your life miserable.

It made her wonder why many fighters never wanted to learn about healing. It was a good way to figure out where the best places were to disable an opponent if you knew anatomy.

She rose to her paws and padded down the ravine. Loshir joined her like a wraith in the night, and the two wandered out into the wooded hillside, then out to the plains. Late spring was a roaring boom of thriving plants, thanks to all the rain, and the plains shimmered silver under the moonlight, ripples like water rolling across the land as the wind stirred the grass.

Her steps took her to the Meeting clearing, and she sat, gazing at the boulder her father sat on each meeting. She’d sit there. In front of everyone. It didn’t scare her as much, not since meeting Amos, but it was still kinda scary to imagine.

Gradated eyes dropped to her paws, watching as her claws flexed and dug into the soil. If she was going to be a protector to these wolves, someday, she needed to practice fighting. She’d be no good in a challenge, or defending from a siege – or leading one, for that matter – or fighting in raids, if she didn’t build on her skills and keep them sharp.

Loshir lowered his head and bumped her shoulder, offering, “Shall we practice fighting, Moon Child? You have that look again.”

She blinked and nodded, grinning as she rose and spun to fall into her stance, head and tail held level with her spine, paws held equidistant beneath her shoulders and hips, toes spread and claws digging into the soil for traction and balance. Her chin tucked to guard her throat as she lifted her hackles, mane lifting at the base where her shorter fur poked through.

She narrowed her eyes to slits, ears flicking back to tuck against her fur as her face morphed into a wrinkled scowl, jaws slightly parted and teeth bared.

Loshir lunged in, attempting to mimic a wolf instead of his own fluid feline grace, and it began, pup and cat dancing, with Loshir correcting her occasionally with a gruff “Shift your weight to all three other paws when you try to swipe at my legs, child. I could topple you like this with that hind foot up like that!” or other corrections. It was difficult as a cat tutoring a wolf pup, but he did the best he could.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think