The Rider's Truth.

A Request.

Unedited. 

Twenty-three - A Request.

Autumn passed into  the beginning of winter. The red and golden-brown leaves adorning the trees that lined the paths of the Ithrall academy finally shed their leaves. They scattered across the grass and stone, turning to mulch where Nethore didn't drag them into piles, only to gleefully knock them into the wind.   A wild winter wind began, whistling sharply in the mornings to rattle the windows to wake us up.

Caoimhe's training did slow wonders to my body. The skeletal frame began to broaden, with muscles lining my arms, legs and shoulders. The abundance of food seemed to help loads too. While I grew strong, in the short weeks it took to turn autumn into winter, Nethore grew larger again. He seemed to flaunt his new growth spurt like it was the newest, rarest fashion. He took long morning hunts with wings that spanned ever longer, and with a keen eyesight that could spot prey from over a mile away. Every day, Nethore became more formidable.

In the evenings, Dem and I sat with each other, reading and theorising about things that happened and things that would come. Somehow the others had been dragged into it and while Dem kept what a Vidalin Rider could do a secret, they too discussed the Seal, and Acheron. Jamie usually got angry about anything to do with what happened to me and often these talks descending into verbal sparring matches. Almost always, they ended in good  spirits.

Some nights, I sat in the music room listening to Zephyr play his music. Sometimes I found it in me to draw; I kept my focus away from the true inspiration of my art now. I liked his quiet and easy company.

I was happy. Well as happy as a girl like me could be. I still struggled to sleep on a bed, and I didn't eat meat. There were nights where I couldn't close my eyes because my dreams were plagued with blood and torture.  

Abner still watched me with narrowed eyes, lost in thought when he caught sight of mottled skin. But when I looked at him, he gave me a kind smile. It was a delicate precipice, but I was content enough to balance here. My mind would never be right again, but I was afraid of slipping straight back into fear. That wariness still stalked me – I saw amber eyes in every darkened corner but every time it turned out to be false, I felt my sense of confidence in my new home returning.

But it only took one rough wind and a girl could tumble straight back down the mountain she tried to climb. Or in my case, a girl could be dragged straight back up the mountain she tried so hard to tumble down.

∑

I met Caoimhe's blow swiftly, turning my wrist while my other arm swung to hit her suddenly exposed side. The Sentinel moved in a blur, with a vicious smile and knocked away the blow. She pushed back, her lips twisting into a grimace as I kept moving, using my size to keep out of her way.

She swung hard, and I met the blow with a gasp. The strength of it shuddered down my arms, rattling my bones but my arms didn't falter like they had last week from the exact same blow. I grinned, feeling the dryness on my tongue from a long, exhausting training. Caoimhe had barely broken a sweat.

Again, she swung. I ducked under this one, a palm ghosting the sand of the arena before I pushed myself up again. My muscles screamed and I absently wondered how long we had been sparring. I couldn't tell if she was going easy on me. It wasn't in her nature, but I hadn't lasted this long before against her. We had practised throwing knifes, and my hand to hand combat before moving onto sparring which had moved well past our hour mark.

I could tell the others were waiting for me to finish, but I ignored it as best I could.

I yelped out in pain as Caoimhe struck and I caught the blow wrong. She moved straight into my mistake, slamming her shoulder against my face and I went flying, sprawling out onto the sand. Wheezing, I blinked absently up at the grey skies. She flicked the training blade to my throat.