Being a Hero

Chapter 10

The song for this chapter is "You Ain't Ready" by Skillet. (I love their new album so much.)

"A friend is one to whom one can pour out all the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keeping what is worth keeping, and, with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away" –Arabian proverb

*Everett's POV*

"Keep your arm straight when you hit your target," I reminded Caitlyn. We were in the Haven's modest gym, getting in some evening practice. I'd found her butchering a tree trunk with her failed attempts at knife throwing and convinced her to take a break. Her canne de combat still needed some work, and that I could help with. Currently, I had her practicing her horizontal strikes. She had the rest of the latéral croisé down pat, from the windup over her offhand shoulder to her aim and hold, but she kept forgetting to fully straighten her arm before her ash cane connected. That robbed her blow of half its force. With her small frame and restricted reach, she needed all the advantage she could get.

"Again, slowly," I said. As she swung her arm forward, I prodded her elbow into a straighter position just before she would have connected with the punching bag that doubled as her practice dummy.

Caitlyn nodded and repeated the move, quicker and more careful to maintain proper form. "Like this?" She asked, casting me a glance and relaxing her posture.

"You've got it!" I said with a clap. Then I grinned mischievously and slowed time long enough to move behind the punching bag. "But don't let your guard down!" I yelled, restoring time and shoving the punching bag forward to hit her. She huffed out a breath and took two steps back at the impact. "Just because you get a few good hits in doesn't mean you've won. A wounded or cornered enemy is a desperate enemy, and they'll fight dirty."

Caitlyn brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, glaring at me. Then she focused back on the punching bag. "Don't let my guard down, right." She practiced a few more cane moves, then started mixing in punches and elbow hits.

I was a little surprised by the level of aggression and force she put into the blows and was glad she'd wrapped her hands before we started. I knew she had to be tired with Grim still recovering, but what was with the attitude? I frowned and let her go another few minutes before holding my hands up to make a T. "Timeout, kid. What's got you all worked up?"

"Nothing."

"You lie like a sinner," I retorted, slipping into my old Cajun accent. I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms. "Something's bothering you, or Boreas has better fashion sense than me."

Caitlyn rewarded me with a snort and half-grin. "It's nothing," She insisted again, walking over to the bench where she'd left her water bottle. I held my silence while she took a drink. "Just something Robert, and then Dullahan said."

"You heard her talk? Everything I read on the database suggested she was a mute," I said, incredulous. Granted, I skimmed the file; I wasn't that big on reading. Then the rest of her sentence clicked. "Hey, wait a minute! Do I need to go beat that cowboy up? What'd he say?"

"Yes, Dullahan can talk. No, you leave Robert alone! He meant it innocently anyways. Dullahan's the one that's eating at me." After a short pause, Caitlyn asked, "By any chance do you know any Czech or Russian?"

I gave her a puzzled look. "Uh...no. I remember a bit of French from school, but can't say I've ever learned either of those. Why?"

"Just a hunch." Caitlyn shrugged and went back to hitting the punching bag. "Her horse doesn't know English, and she has a definite accent."