Season's Change Winter's Plight Book 1

14 Blood Sweat Tears & Understanding

A/N

This chapter has been revised and combined with Understanding, hence the title. It was a fun edit. Hopefully, it will give you MORE insight into these two characters, his training and their dynamic.  I can't begin to tell you how much I love these two and the pair they make. Their dynamic is very unique for the time and place they are living in. I could -- Well, I'll just let you find that out. I hope you enjoy the read. 

Always,
Shelly Keller

With each second that passed, sweat ran down Avriel's face and into his eyes making it increasingly harder for him to see. Katana went at him with graceful reckless abandon, pushing him back with her every move, forcing him to anticipate her next three moves long before she ever made them and adjust his movements and body accordingly. He fought for every breath he took and teetered carelessly on the edge of losing control and his balance. She forced him back on his heels and off balance with every stroke making him recover himself quicker than he imagined would ever be possible until he couldn't any longer.

He didn't cry out when the flat of one of her blades smacked his shoulder and the other his opposite hip. He didn't even whimper. He just pressed on. She was merciless in her attacks. She avoided using the cutting edges of her blades when she struck him, but she struck hard. She often left welts on his skin and sometimes bruises. But it was important for him to learn that there were consequences for missing a block or losing his balance. In the training room it was a bruise or welt, perhaps even wounded pride, but in battle, it would be his life. After every training session, she tended to his wounds by putting some sort of stinky salve on every raised red mark and bruise. Within minutes the pain was gone, in less than an hour and the mark was gone altogether unless it bruised, but it never hurt later.

She continued his training putting him through his paces every day for as long as he could literally stand. He was generally panting, fighting to breathe and drenched in sweat by the time she was done with him. She wasn't even out of breath. It was annoying to him. But every day he got a little stronger and was able to train for a little bit longer. He felt like he wasn't learning fast enough. Every day she defeated him, left him weak and sweaty, his legs shaking, breathless and his body too sore to carry on. She was hard on him, relentless, ruthless and unforgiving. She didn't cut him any slack, never gave him a break and rarely said anything overly kind to him about his progress or lack of it. She didn't let a single mistake go unpunished, and almost never spoke save to reprimand and adjust his movements. She bested him every time they hit the practice floor and kept him on the defensive every time they trained. There were days he was covered in red welts and bruises from the side of his face to his toes. Others he bled. Every day he wanted to cry, some days he did for the pain others for his wounded pride. In his homeland, he was one of the best Warriors, undefeated in combat. He had to wonder if that was the case simply because of who he was. If that was true, then they weren't doing him any favors. It made him bitter and she made him feel inadequate and stupid.

When the lessons were over, she always nurtured him again cleaning any open wounds and tending to his every need. She would talk to him in warm and gently tones, tell him stories and antidotes. It was like she was a different person when they were not on the training floor. It was a difficult contrast for him to adjust to. One minute she was cutthroat in her attacks forcing him to constantly defend himself and to think about things he had never needed to think about before. She had him fearing for his life should his blade ever falter. The next she was serving him whatever it was that she cooked for them and talking to him in the soft melodic voice of hers.

When she wasn't beating him down with her blades, ruthlessly attacking him, she was gentle and kind almost doting. He didn't know what to do with that either. The last person that doted on him was his mother. He missed her so much. As he sat with Katana and shared a meal after a training session, his thoughts turned towards home. He had been gone a very long time, but he didn't know how long that time was, so he asked, "How long?" She looked at him with a powerfully confused expression on her face. He almost laughed through his tears, but he had discovered early on that she didn't like it when he laughed at her. She clearly did not understand laughter. She threw things at him when he did. She turned her head sideways as if changing the position of her ears would make it easier for her to understand him. He spoke exclusively in her language and she in his, but the concept of passing time seemed to be lost on her. He searched for the words to explain his thoughts. He thought to use the word moon, but that word didn't seem to exist in her language. They don't have a moon underground. He could have just used his own, but he learned that she didn't like that much either. So, he used his hands to explain what he meant and the human word for moon. She didn't frown at him like he expected as he slipped his own word between her words. "How many moons have I been here?" She looked at him and gave him a toothy grimace. It was apparently what she thought passed for a smile. He wasn't so sure that he was teaching her right.