Again, Training the Fallen

Dax had a strong, forceful, totally merciless voice. A few feet distant, his arms crossed, his amber gaze fixed on me with a force that made my wolf bristle.

My body protesting, I stumbled to my feet. As I changed my hold on the knife, its blade glinting in the weak early light, my hands shook. I gasped, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I can't."

You can, he snarled, moving forward. Also you will.

Though he loomed above me, defiance drove me to stand straight rather than fear. Dax, you are not a warrior.

"Not yet," he answered, his voice softening just enough to wound more deeply. But you will perish if you do not start behaving like one. And your kid will do likewise.

His comments wounded, but they set off something inside of me—a spark of rage, of will. Aiming at him with the dagger, I surged forward. He sidestepped with easy fluidity and annoyingly simple motions.

"Sloppy," he murmured, grasping my wrist and whirling just enough to disarm me. The dagger dropped to the floor, and I cursed back-off.

Again, he muttered, flinging the dagger at my feet.

Leant against a nearby tree, the scout snorted. "Perhaps you ought to pause before you break her."

Dax pointed him in a direction. She has no need of a respite. She has to pick up survival skills.

"I can hear you," I said, grabbing the dagger. "And I neither need either of you guiding me on what I can or cannot manage."

Good, Dax murmured, his smile returning. then prove it.

Hour after hour, every one more taxing than the next. Dax persisted, pushing me further with every error I made. My thoughts shouted for rest, my muscles hurt, but I couldn't stop.

He said, "You're hesitating," as I swung the blade once again, almost missing his side.

Not! I am not! Shouting, fury bubbling over,

Indeed, you are, he replied, his voice relentless. You are terrified of hurting me. Not sure to go too far. That indecision will bring you dead.

His comments touched a chord, and I reacted without thinking. The blade this time grazed his arm, creating a small line of blood.

He retreated, nodding in agreement. " Improved."

My chest heaving, I looked at him. You're crazy.

No, he said, his eyes fixed. I am getting ready for you.

The strain between us started to relax that evening as we sat by the fire. While the scout maintained watch a few feet away, Dax leant against a tree cleaning the little cut on his arm.

"You didn't let up today," I murmured softly, my voice a combination of weariness and enquiry.

Dax looked at me, his smile faint. "Did you anticipate me?"

No, I said, tightening my robe over me. "But... thank you."

Clearly startled, he arched an eyebrow. "For what?" asks?

My voice lower, "For not giving up on me."

His look changed, something unsaid hovering between us. Not yet thank you for me. The easy part was this.

From his perimeter check, the scout came back with pale face and quick motions. His voice tight, he replied, "We have a problem."

Dax arose right away, instincts driving him. What is it?

"There are some Rogues close by," the scout said. But they are not typical.

"What does you mean?" Standing despite the leg pain, I asked.

"They are marked," the scout stated solemnly. Like the ones on the altar, "symbols on their skin."

Dax tightened his jaw as he muttered under his breath. "They're corrupted, not merely rogues."

Arriving at daybreak, the twisted figures of the animals emerged from the woods like a living nightmare. Their brilliant eyes and unusual skin marks verified what we had feared—they connected to the terrible magic we had been running into.

Dax and I battled side by side, our motions timing each collision more precisely. He yelled commands, his voice consistent even amid the tumult, and I found myself listening without thought.

" Left!" he yelled, and I turned barely in time to avoid an assault. My knife dropped into the side of the beast, its body burning into ash as it dropped.

Though he held his own, the scout could clearly be afraid. Faster, stronger, more coordinated than anything we had seen previously were the monsters.

One of the beasts broke off, its brilliant eyes fixed on Dax while the battle waged on. My wolf shot forward, instincts guiding more than reason. I sprang, smashing against the thing before it could get to him.

We ground hard, and its claws ripped over my shoulder. Though I stopped, pain erupted through me. With my knife in hand, the thing melted into ash.

Dax pulled me to my feet, his face a mixture of relief and resentment. "What the hell was that??"

You're welcome, I murmured, cringing as I held my injured shoulder.

You might have been killed, he said sharply.

So could you, I said back. Remember we are in this together?

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing; his eyes stayed on me longer than I would have imagined.

The woodland became still after the final beast dropped. Nonetheless, the tranquilly was fleeting. From the distance came a low, terrible hum that made me shudder down my spine.

Dax's voice dropped and his expression clouded. " It's not over."

With wide-open terror, the scout moved closer. "What currently?"

Dax remarked, staring directly at me, "We keep moving." "And we stop only once we have solutions."

The hum became louder as we packed our belongings, and for the first time I felt the weight of the Moon Goddess's prophecy descending on me. We were not ready whatever was approaching.