Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
“Grab him!” Bran shouted, barreling past Taren as their target bolted up a tall tree.
Taren shook himself, glaring at the wild red-headed boy. “Now look what you’ve done. It’s going to be ten times harder to get him.”
Both boys were a mess, covered in scratches, their loose, cream-colored tunics stained with dirt and torn from the relentless chase.
“What are we going to do now?” Elara exhaled, sinking to the ground with an exaggerated flop.
Her headband, embroidered with the Ember Reach phoenix, slipped slightly down her forehead, but she didn’t bother to adjust it, too tired from the struggle.
“We’ve been chasing this cursed cat for two hours, and I swear it’s just toying with us at this point. ”
Rynna glanced off to her right, where, as usual, their Unit Leader stood quietly, his nose buried in one of the notebooks he always carried.
She was burning to know what could possibly hold his attention for so long, day after day, but he always managed to hide the contents whenever she got close enough to sneak a peek.
And it’s not like he talks to you any more than absolutely necessary, anyway, she thought to herself.
A hiss from the tree snapped Rynna’s attention back just in time to see Bran winding up to throw a rock at the smug animal.
“Whoa!” She stepped in front of him, hands outstretched. “Let’s not resort to violence just yet. We’re supposed to bring him back in good condition.”
“Tell that to him!” Bran tried to dart around her, but she moved swiftly, blocking his path with ease.
He huffed in frustration. “Come on, Rynna! Let’s just finish this. I’m tired of these bullcrap missions anyway.”
Elara and Taren, both covered in scratches, mumbled their agreement as they moved to stand beside Bran.
“We’re ready for a real assignment!” he declared, bolstered by their support.
“Not if you have to resort to rock-throwing and damaging your target to finish this one, you’re not.” The hairs on the back of Rynna’s neck stood on end as Fenn’s voice drifted from behind her, suddenly closer.
“I don’t suppose you have any sage advice, Guide?” she asked, sarcasm seeping into her words as she kept her back to him.
Like the others, she was fed up with the months of low-difficulty missions around the nearby villages.
Catching lost animals, tracking down missing goods, and harvesting the orchards.
And then there was him, constantly there, frustrating her just by existing, not to mention the other kind of frustration she couldn’t quite shake.
As usual, he ignored her.
“Fine.” Rynna pinched the bridge of her nose, glancing at the others who watched her expectantly. The answer was obvious, and the situation practically begged for it.
It was the perfect opportunity to introduce them to more animal-based martial arts. She could show them how to observe and imitate the cat's movements—its grace, its agility, its style. The fat, furry beast was surprisingly formidable and would be a good teacher.
She’d done this a few times now, leveraging her supposed foreign upbringing to introduce new concepts into their training.
Nothing flashy, just basic principles that had somehow been forgotten once Source power entered the world and its manipulation became the primary focus of Hollow-born combat.
Even their physical forms relied heavily on the Source to enhance speed and strength.
“Fine,” she repeated, straightening up. “Okay, so why can’t we catch the cat?”
The group looked at her blankly. Even Fenn glanced up from his notes, mildly curious.
“He’s faster,” Elara offered after a moment. “And agile.”
“He can also climb trees,” Taren muttered, dabbing at a scratch on his arm with his sleeve.
“And has claws,” Bran added, scuffing the ground with his foot.
“Yes, exactly!” Rynna smiled, pulling out two small throwing knives, their hilts wrapped in rough cloth for better grip.
“So why can’t we be faster, more agile, or climb trees?
And it’s not like we don’t have our own claws.
” She twirled the knives playfully before winking at them.
“Plus, there are four of us and one of him. This should be easy.”
“How?” Taren asked, recognizing the change in her tone. He was always sharp like that, quick to pick up on teaching moments, no matter how subtly she tried to slip them in.
“Well, we can’t be a cat, but can we move like one?” she asked.
“Like a cat?” Bran scratched his head, clearly confused.
“Yeah! Watch me.” Rynna dropped into a low crouch, her knees bent, her weight distributed evenly as she moved silently, almost gliding across the ground. “Cats are fast and graceful, relying on balance and precision. Stay low, keep your center stable, and move from your core. Follow me.”
She demonstrated the movement, her body flowing like liquid, light on her feet but always controlled.
The group watched her, wide-eyed, before attempting to imitate.
Taren dropped into a crouch first, wobbling with each step, and eventually fell sideways with a thud.
Elara gave it a shot, next, managing a few steps before her foot slipped, sending her sprawling.
Bran, meanwhile, was as awkward as it came, but effort made up for natural elegance.
Rynna smiled encouragingly as they all got back up and repeatedly tried again. “Keep your movements stable! Control comes from your center.”
And slowly but surely, they began to improve.
They really are quite gifted, she thought, watching Taren, his brow furrowed in concentration as he managed a few fluid steps while Elara’s balance steadied. Even Bran got a few steps without falling…or screaming in excitement.
“Better!” Rynna beamed as Taren returned Bran’s brief high-five with a rare grin of triumph.
“Let’s get that cat!” Elara squealed, excitement building again.
The cat, still perched high in the tree, meowed disdainfully, licking its paw, looking bored.
Rynna stuck her tongue out at the beast and then asked, “So, what’s our strategy? He’s clever.”
“We have to box him in,” Taren said.
“Someplace he can’t climb away,” Bran added, clapping his hands.
“But we can’t hurt him,” Elara reminded them.
It went on like that for nearly ten minutes as the newly energized team put their heads together, forming a plan.
Three attempts later and another hour of carefully watching the cat’s movements, tracking its unpredictable leaps and lightning-fast dashes, and they finally managed to corral the cunning creature into the box.
Exhausted but victorious, they exchanged relieved smiles, ready to bring their prize home.
After a short walk, they arrived at the modest wooden structure with round windows and a sloping thatched roof.
Their client, an overjoyed older man, immediately rushed out of his home, his face lighting up the moment he saw the cat.
Scooping the big tabby into his arms, he hugged the feline tightly against his chest, hands scratching behind his ears.
And as the feline began to purr, he looked up, then bowed in gratitude before releasing the pet.
“Thank you so much for finding my Little Bird.” He gushed, pouring an enormous bowl of milk for the cat. “He must have been so scared, all alone out there.”
“Scared?!” Bran blurted out, only to be silenced by Elara, who clamped her hand over his mouth before he could say more.
“We’re just glad we could help,” she said quickly, smiling politely.
“It was a good learning experience for the Novices. Thank you for the opportunity,” Guide Fenn added with a formal bow.
When they finally extracted themselves from the man’s endless gratitude, Bran was already moaning, loud enough for everyone to hear. “That was so boring! When are we gonna get a real mission?”
“I’ll tell you what, how about we discuss it over stew and meat pies? My treat,” Guide Fenn said.
“What?!” Bran yelled, eyes wide with excitement. “AMAZING! I’m gonna get chicken AND venison with extra pottage, bread AND honey, plus a bowel of spiced nuts! Oh, and one of Momma D’s burnt fish! And maybe—”
“You sure about this, Guide Fenn?” Elara raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bran as his list of food grew longer.
Fenn’s usually calm exterior faltered for a second as he listened to Bran’s endless order. “It looks like I might need an advance on our next assignment just to pay for it,” he said with a nervous laugh. Then, he added, “Okay, new rule. Everyone only gets one order.”
The boys groaned in unison.
“Except for whoever gets there first and saves our table.”
It was as if he’d waved a magic wand. One moment, the three Novices were standing there, and the next, they’d vanished, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake as they sprinted down the street, tripping each other and jostling for the lead.
Rynna coughed, waving the dirt away from her face.
And as the dust settled, Fenn glanced down at her. “Not going to race them to the tavern?”
“Huh?” She looked up, surprised to find they were alone for the first time since he’d interrupted her cloud counting. “Oh, no. One meal is fine. I have leftovers at home anyway.”
“Hmmm.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking down the street beside her. “You know...you’re really good with them.”
“I’m sorry?” She stepped up to catch his pace, falling in line beside him. “Are you actually talking to me now? And giving me a compliment, at that?”
“What?” He started, then sighed. “I suppose I haven’t really been a good Guide to you, have I?”
She blinked, caught completely off guard. She was not expecting this conversation.
“What exactly do you want me to say here, Guide Fenn?” He hadn’t been much of anything to her except an irritating man with his nose always in a notebook.
“I’ll try to do better. You’ve lived up to your end. You haven’t made things more...uh...dramatic than they needed to be.”
“If anything, you’ve been the dramatic one, just ignoring me.” She glared at him from the corner of her eye.