Chương 59: Training Squirt

Jezalin pulled her hand back from Squirt's forehead with the kind of smile that would dazzle even the most obstinate of fey. Squirt was dazzled. So dazzled, she didn't realize she was staring until the fallen spoke.

"You're cleared for duty, huntress." Squirt stiffened, dropping her eyes reflectively and tugging on her bangs, silently admonishing herself and blatantly ignoring the knowing edge to the fallen's smile. Besides, a beautiful princess like this woman? Clearly, Squirt was confusing duty with something more ominous. Like attraction. And that just wouldn't do. Squirt scooted her way to the edge of the furs, muttering, "Piss off," as Tobias's giant wolf whined from behind her.

"I need to go somewhere that isn't this damn den." As comfortable as the den had been, she was far too energized to lazy around for a second longer than absolutely necessary. Jezalin spoke, her melodious voice making Squirt's shoulders twitch.

"Instructor Hawke has asked for you down in the training yard, now that you're cleared for duty." Shit. Damnit. Fuck. Squirt's head dropped with her sigh. After all, she was going to have to tell him she'd lost her swords. If he was anything like Stalf, she was in for a thorough dressing down before she got her ass handed to her in the practice yard. Well, fuck it. Glaring down at her boots, she finished lacing them up before standing, figuring she might as well get this over with.

With a yip, her tiny hound got up from his resting place on the furs while she bowed politely to the fallen, and then they both trotted out of the room. Just before the door closed, she heard Tobias transform and call out, "Shit, damnit—Braveheart, wait for me!" Squirt couldn't resist as she called out over her shoulder, "You're a shifter. Nobody will care if your dick's out." Ignoring his protests of, "I mean I care a little, Braveheart!" she bit back a snort and grin as she skulked her way to the practice yard.

Squirt was used to hearing the gossip about herself as she trotted through castle halls. What she wasn't used to, however, was positive gossip about herself.

"—heard Athereon had woken—""—can't wait to see her in the training yard again—""—hope Athereon killed that bitch Riverlands—""Do you think Athereon would teach me to shoot?"

"Ha, you don't stand a chance of being one of her hunters!" It was odd, to say the least. Several fey she passed didn't see her as they actively gossiped like she was a coliseum celebrity. When had public opinion about her gotten so… glowing? Not a single bad word was spoken anywhere. Weirded out by the entire situation, she tugged on her bangs, suddenly distinctly worried about the presence of these self-called "fans" of hers finding out about the goddess's mark on her forehead. Gods, what if they… celebrated?

Gag her. When she arrived in the training yard, she stayed in the shadows, observing the drills being run by the other instructors. Scanning around the yard to find Instructor Hawke, her heart almost leapt out of her throat when her hound confidently trotted out into the open, his twin tails held up with a regal flair. She hissed, "No, wait, stop, what are you doing—" before the training yard came to a stop, the entire platoon turning its attention to the tiny hound strutting towards the target range.

"What the—""Is that—""Feybeast?!" Cursing her hound, Squirt sprinted into the yard before someone decided to attack first and ask questions later. In one singular motion she scooped up the beast, before turning on a dime and glaring a challenge at those in pushup position who had thought he was a feybeast. No way. She'd die before she let any of them touch her hound. She got the vague sense her hound was oddly flattered by this thought. As for the rest, well…

The sight of the little, tiny pixie woman with tan skin and a dash of freckles over a button nose glaring at them while holding a tiny creature more foxlike in appearance than hound, a bright embarrassed blush over her face, was undoubtedly one of the cutest things most of those present had ever seen in their lives. The creature himself looked both regal and adorable, with luminous bright white fur that fluffed out in elegant waves and rippled with purpose, contrasting beautifully against his dark eyes.

All of the fey as one went stock still until she then turned and darted away again, this time the little magic beast wrapped around her shoulders. Once her back was turned, her fans swooned. Not that she noticed, naturally. They'd gotten quite good at hiding it from her, a pact between them to keep watch over her from afar.

All for a variety of reasons, of course—some because she was unintentionally adorable in a way that brought them joy, some because of her fierceness as a tenacious warrior, and still others for simply being the underdog. And others because they were perverts, but that was another matter entirely. Squirt, meanwhile, was waiting for someone, anyone, to call her out on her defiance, only once again not a single fey raised an objection.

Worse yet, the whispers she caught were discussions of how cute she was, how cute her hound was, or just general excitement that she was in the training yard. Even the instructors seemed unruffled by her sudden appearance. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Meaning her nerves were practically shot as she finally found Instructor Hawke standing next to a table of items over by the target range.

The large, silver-haired fox shifter with a bushy moustache and a large scar over one eye waved her over with a jubilant expression that made Squirt cringe internally. She thought she had missed Everwinter Keep, but so much had changed and she wasn't entirely convinced that this was any better than Riverlands Keep. Well, she was very convinced, actually. The freshly healed scars on her back itched in the midmorning sun, her skin stretched and taut and distinctly uncomfortable, even if it was, technically, healed.

She reached the instructor, her eyes lowered while she bowed politely in greeting. His hands on his hips, he grinned at her.

"Well met, lass. I'll assume you've been cleared for duty?"

"Yes, Instructor."

"Good." He scratched his ear in a move that was entirely too Stalf-like for her to not notice.

"Well, I hear you took down a Bone Whale." She made a face even as she kept her eyes lowered politely, muttering more to herself than him, "Never want to do that again." He chuckled.

"Well, now you know."

"Yeah, well… I'm out of lightning stones, so…" They sometimes got thunderstorms up this far north, but not nearly as often. Still, it would be worth investing in some lighting rods. Making a mental note to add that to her next list for Quint, she shifted from foot to foot and rubbed her hands down her pants, steeling herself for his admonishment.

"I… I lost my swords, sir."

"Lost them? Lost them?" the fury that radiated off the silver-haired fox shifter made Squirt shrink back with a wince, a brief burst of terror flooding her.

"Lass, you did not lose them. They were stolen, plain and simple. You had no fault in that." Several seconds passed as she waited for him to say more or turn it on her before she realized, indeed, he meant it. He didn't blame her. A sigh or relief fell from her lips, the tension draining from her shoulders as she nodded her understanding. Instructor Hawke gestured at the table.

"Grab a bow, lass. Le's get you on the targets." Squirt hesitated before dutifully approaching the table, a curious glint in her eyes. For one, the table had only the standard short and long bows, neither of which she'd ever been able to wield before. In fact, she had tried once, in the guardhouse with Stalf. Even the memory of him laughing at her failing to even string the shortbow had her cheeks pinkening. Asshole. She missed the geezer.

The other reason the table caught her curious eyes—since she was now forcibly focusing on the other items on the table rather than dwelling in that embarrassing moment of her history—were the variety of implements that she'd never seen before. Her eyes shifted up, catching the twinkle in Instructor Hawke's eyes. Shifting her eyes back down to the short bow, she scooped one up, uncoiling the accompanying wire to string it. To her surprise, she was able to string it.

She even took a moment to pull it back, mostly just to see if she even could since the bow was the same size she was—a few inches shy of four feet. She pulled it easily. It was more work than her current bow, definitely, but doable. Well, that was exciting. Mostly she used arrows as distraction, to pin a target, or to hit a key weak spot. Anything bigger than a plump rabbit, and her bow didn't stand a chance of doing enough damage to kill it. This? This could do more.

Abruptly now interested in this exercise, she picked up the standard quiver, shrugging it over her shoulder so it settled by her hip before she took her stance in front of the target. Squirt notched her first arrow and took her time considering the shot. Then, in one smooth motion, she lifted the bow and pulled it back, taking an extra second to aim. It was like the target was suddenly in perfect focus, and her grip shifted ever-so-slightly without any conscious attempt to do so until it felt right.

One second, she held the tip in place. The next she didn't. It loosed from her hand and hit the target dead center. Instructor Hawke let out a low, impressed whistle.

"Nice shot, lass. The glowing forehead is new." The hand that had released the string so naturally flew up to tug on her bangs, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. What… what was that? Shaking herself, she abruptly decided to push it from her mind. Instead, she rolled her shoulders back, resettled her stance, and began to fire. These felt normal. No weird clarity, no pinpoint accuracy.

They spread out slightly across the target, and she was proud that they were clustered within the smallest two rings around the bull's eye despite the distance of a hundred paces. Especially with a bow she was unfamiliar with, it was marked improvement from even just a couple of years ago. Once she was out of arrows, Instructor Hawke clapped his hands, sending one of the young assistants off to fetch them out of the target. Instead, he turned back towards the table.

"Now, we've gotten some new toys into Everwinter that I want you to try. Here, start with these." Squirt frowned as she looked at a set of almost oversized looking darts—or short, fat arrows, depending—only the extended arrowhead connected to the wooden shaft with a fat bulge. When she picked it up, the bulge was clearly weighted, giving it a heft.

"Toss 'em however you want to. Overhand or underhand. Point is to get a bunch of them so you can grab and toss quickly." Her eyes were wide and fascinated as she examined the shape of it under her fingertips. She grabbed it around the middle and tossed it up at the target. It fell short by quite a ways, unfortunately, but he was right that they were easy to toss quickly. Oh, she had ideas now. Curious, she tried three in a row overhand, hitting the target by the end.

Grinning, the instructor sauntered up to her and handed her a stick with a simple cord and a leather strap.

"Ever used a sling before?" She scowled. She'd tried once. One of the villagers had shown her how to use one and had her try it. The string had been too long and it ended up almost breaking her nose. Studying the stick, the whole thing was… primitive. A leather bed, some twine, and a stick almost as long as she was tall.

"Don't judge it 'till you try it, lass. I've seen those powder bombs you use. Slings take practice, this doesn't. Just lay the ammo, catch the leather twine loop on the notched end—good, now, over the shoulder, one hand at the bottom of the stick, one in the middle, and—" Following along with his demonstrated steps, she loaded a rock and tossed it. She hit the target.

"Nifty, isn't it? Lord Everwinter picked that one up from a tribe down in the Desert Shores. They used them to defend their herds since even the young children can use it." She wanted it. Her eyes gleamed with want. Gods, this could hit so much farther— Abruptly, she grabbed another rock for ammo, loading it as she trotted away before she turned, aimed, and fired with all the strength she could muster. It sailed right over the target.

Practically giddy, she darted forward, grabbed another few rocks as ammo, and trotted back farther and farther to try and figure out what the range she could get was. Gods, with this thing, she wouldn't even need to run out of the damn shield line just to slingshot a pouch of powder— Even better, she could make bigger pouches with more powder. Something that wasn't normally an issue at this time of year, but by fall it would be. There would be fewer beasts, but she'd to have to hit them harder to take them out.

Satisfied, she trotted back to Instructor Hawke with a satisfied smirk and gleam in her eyes. Right in front of him, she stopped, turning her face up at him and unknowingly unleashing her deadliest weapon. The plead. Instructor Hawke coughed into his fist, his bushy mustache twitching as he cleared his throat and said, "I'd think it best if you kept that one." Gods, she'd never been so excited for a stick in her life. Clearing his throat again, he gestured towards the table.

"Let's see what your draw strength capacity is." On the table were a line of pre-strung bows of different sizes, widths, and, upon holding a few, hefts. One at a time, he had her trying to notch arrows until her arms were shaking and the strings were smacking her in the face when her hold failed.

"Good job, lass. Now, have you thought about javelins?"