Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2: Cub

The next morning, Almonihah's training began almost immediately. Zrathanzon started by teaching him how to cook over a campfire, though he did have some extra food ready for when his student dropped his in the fire. Then were some lessons on cleaning and caring for some of the equipment they used. And so it went on for a while that morning.

In time, they came to practicing with the sword again. This time, Zrathanzon stopped before handing him the makeshift practice sword.

“Almonihah, I made a bit of an assumption yesterday. You've been taught to write, correct?” At Almonihah's nod, he continued, “Which hand do you usually write with?”

Almonihah frowned a little bit in thought at the question, then he shrugged diffidently. “Either one.”

Zrathanzon cocked his head, and gave Almonihah an intrigued look. “Either one, hm? Let's see then... take this in your left hand.”

Zrathanzon handed him the practice sword, and Almonihah obediently took it in his left hand. Then they started into the exact same drills they had done the first day. While it took a little while at first for him to get used to switching sides, Almonihah was soon doing the drills just as well with his left hand as he had been with his right. Then Zrathanzon had him switch hands and started teaching him another move, then had him switch back to practice it.

After observing his student's performance, Zrathanzon shook his head and murmured, as much to himself as to Almonihah, “Ambidextrous. Completely ambidextrous, as far as I can tell.” Speaking a bit more loudly he asked, “Did you know you could do this?”

Almonihah stopped the drill he was doing and looked up at Zrathanzon with a faintly confused look. “I thought everyone could,” he said with another shrug.

Zrathanzon laughed a bit. “I suppose it's not the kind of thing that comes up a lot. But no, not very many people can use both hands so well. You're a lucky kid to be able to.”

Almonihah turned away from his teacher and muttered, bitterly, “Yeah, lucky...”

It didn't take long for them to settle into a routine. They arose every morning, ate a simple breakfast, and then Zrathanzon would start Almonihah's lessons. Sometimes the lessons were mostly around the campsite, such as sword drills and even some bow training, but more often they were practical, taught while on the move, hunting or foraging or any of the other activities Zrathanzon engaged in. Every few weeks, they would move to another campsite, though truthfully, Almonihah could hardly tell each one from the last.

The relentless schedule left Almonihah aching and exhausted every night, but he was glad for it. All of the things to do during the day kept him too busy to dwell on the past, and exhaustion meant there were precious few moments lying in bed waiting for sleep in which to ask what had become of his father. If Zrathanzon was surprised by how completely his little student threw himself into his lessons, he didn't show it. Perhaps he knew why Almonihah did it, and thought it was the most he could do to help ease the child's pain.

As the months passed, Almonihah could tell he was getting stronger and more skilled. It seemed, however, that his teacher could tell as well, because his lessons simply became more difficult. Every time he thought he was getting good at something, Zrathanzon would show him that there was still a lot more to learn. And each time, Almonihah would throw himself back into his training, more determined to do better.

The leaves were falling from the trees, and Almonihah had come to feel the forest was his home. Though Zrathanzon still warned of great dangers in the woods, and taught him all he could about how to avoid them, he hadn't seen any sign of them. The only danger he knew was the one that had overtaken his mother, and that was one which he wished to forget.

Then, one evening, he found out one reason why most men avoided the North Forest.

The two were traveling, as they often did, further west. They were taking their time, and Almonihah was amusing himself by practicing some of his sword drills with a stick as they walked. He was so absorbed in doing so that he didn't notice that he had fallen a little behind Zrathanzon, as well as to the side of where he was walking. Nor did he notice the signs that Zrathanzon had taught him to look for.

Suddenly, Almonihah felt something tighten around his ankle, and then he was violently yanked into the air. He cried out in fear. Ahead of him, he heard Zrathanzon bite off a curse in Draconic—something he had never heard his mentor do before. He struggled to get a look at what was holding his boot as he was shaken about in midair, and finally managed to see that it was a thick, brown, hairy vine.

Just as he was reaching to try to loosen the vine's grip on his ankle, he felt another one brush his shoulder, and he remembered what Zrathanzon had told him this vine was. A blood vine, a deadly plant that ambushed its prey, strangled it, and then drained its blood—though it wasn't always picky about finishing strangling its prey before it started on the blood-draining part, from what Zrathanzon had said.

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The start of chapter 2! Huzzah! A bit more of a look at what Almonihah's early training was like--including an... unplanned exercise.

As most of you probably know, I've started in on another semester of college. What this means is that I'll probably be averaging about a post a week. At least, that's my goal. So, you might have to wait all the way until next Saturday to find out what happens.

Beware the cliffhanger!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!