Renevere Mars: Part One

Episode 3: Not A Warrior- Yet

Renevere Mars, Prelith of Ossilith, Year of the Wolf, training under Master Duren. The title didn't feel like her own, though she certainly went through the motions as if it were. Duren was a very hands-off Master. He had given the three of them instructions to meet in the training grounds every afternoon as soon as classes were over. He had given them sets of practices to complete by evening. Running drills, fighting stances, target practice, and weight training. Ren returned to her tiny studio apartment at the end of every day so sore she wasn't sure she would be able to get up in the morning. And yet she managed, day after day.

"Do you think he's ever going to show up?" Sam complained, dripping in sweat. For an obnoxious brat, he dedicated himself to his training in such a way that Ren attempted to mimic, though she lacked a certain boyish enthusiasm she couldn't quite muster. Still, there was no fuel to her fire quite like ridicule and failure. She did not want to live in the shadow of small children forever, and if she was stuck here, becoming a warrior, then she wasn't going to stay the worst one forever.

"He has to eventually," Cara said lightly, though Ren knew she was just as agitated by their Master's absence. Other Masters were on the training field with their pupils every day, giving them pointers, showing them how to advance. Much to Ren's irritation, Cara had become something of their stand-in trainer, since she was somehow so far beyond them both.

"Why did we have to get stuck with the lousiest Master, forget this!" Sam wined and threw a knife so hard it completely missed the target and impaled the chain-link fence behind it.

"Good thing there's a fence, Samuel," Cara chastised. "You need to be more careful, remember; form is more important than—"

"More important than power, I know. Sheesh, shut up all ready." He crossed his arms and plopped down on the ground, making Ren laugh. She sometimes wished she had as much energy as he did, and as much exuberance. Telling Cara to shut up would certainly feel gratifying.

"Take comfort in the fact that you're still better than me," Ren remarked, lining herself up to throw a knife at the wooden man that was their target. She squinted one eye and tried to aim, testing the weight of the knife in her hand a few times before tossing it.

She'd gotten much better in the week of training. When she started, she hadn't even been able to get the knife anywhere near the target. But the blade embedded sloppily, and low on the target from a loss of force over distance.

She tisked and muttered, "Not that I belong here anyway." Still, it seemed her years of training as a child were starting to come back to her.

"What do you mean you don't belong here?" Cara said, tilting her head. "You must, or they wouldn't have sent you!"

"Yeah, that's something I've always been confused about," Sam said, squinting up at Ren, the sun beating down on his blue eyes. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Samuel!" Cara chastised, hands on her hips, taking a step toward where he sat on the ground.

"What?" he said incredulously. "It's not like we aren't all thinking it!"

Ren grimaced. "It's a long story..."

Cara turned to face Ren and held her hands out in a shrugging motion. "We're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Ren sighed. The idea of relaying her story was unappealing, and she was opening her mouth to deflect the question when she remembered what Master Duran had said. If the members of the squad don't understand the capabilities of those they work with, it is doomed to fail. She stopped herself, mouth poised open, and sighed, her body slumping slightly in forfeit.

"Well," she said, "I guess I should start by saying I already failed my first test when I was your age..."

"No way, you didn't pass?" Sam said, leaning forward overtop of his crossed legs theatrically.