Chapter 4: Learn to Teach

I feel like this chapter is a testament to my process. Maybe only a small one.

I've held off over-analyzing the first book because I want to come back and flesh it out a little more after I've learned my characters a little more. That's right: I need to get to know the people I made up! I'm an imperfect deity, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Hey, no. I can say I'm imperfect, but that doesn't mean you get to!

Anyhoo. If you're just joining us, the story starts here. The second book starts here. Finally, you can read this chapter here or below.

Chapter 4: Learn to Teach

Svara was making better progress on her food than she’d expected. The spectacle was so engrossing that she didn’t realize how often she was reaching for more.

Jedrek sat beside her on the hilltop. At the bottom, the hunter matron was sparring with one of her apprentices. That’s how Svara interpreted it, at least. Jedrek called it ‘dancing,’ but this joyless exercise couldn’t possibly be a dance. To Svara, it looked like punishment.

Both were blindfolded. Svara understood how that would help them learn to survive without their sight. Matron Cascata wasn’t using her right arm, and despite the handicap, she was dominating her apprentice, Dahlia. Cascata was pummeling her like a soldier beats an untouchable who didn’t show them the proper respect. If Svara had stumbled upon this scene without speaking to Jedrek, she would have been convinced that’s what she was watching.

Dahlia wasn’t submitting, though. She fought like she stood a chance. She kept her feet, or when she didn’t, she was quick to regain them. Both women were breathing heavily, but neither seemed ready to quit. That was doubly impressive for the girl on the losing end.

“Hunting must be tough, if you call this practice,” Svara observed as she chewed. “I don’t know if I could handle watching the real thing.”

“The forest is brutal.” Jedrek was biting his thumbnail, and for the first time, Svara realized he was just as surprised by this ‘dance’ as she was. “The hunters need to learn to play by its rules.”

When he introduced himself outside the elder’s tent, Svara had wondered if Jedrek fancied her. He was exceptionally considerate during all of their interactions, and something about that attention reminded her of all the warnings the older women gave her back home. Men who wanted her would act a certain way,and she needed to be extra wary of them. Jedrek conjured those memories, so Svara felt wary of him.

“The matron became the matron because she knows the skill best.” Jedrek was beginning to recite these rules without her prompting. He was disturbed by what was going on here, and that concern made Svara wonder if he actually fancied Dahlia.

Everything Jedrek did made her wonder who he fancied. Why was that? It hadn’t happened with Trent or Evan. Were Jedrek’s actions suspect, or was she paranoid?

Svara shook her head. If Jedrek fancied one of them, she hoped it was Dahlia. She knew that much, and that’s all the thought she needed to give the subject.

Dahlia doubled over Cascata’s fist as it was thrust into her gut. The wind escaped her lungs with such force that it carried strings of spittle with it. The matron really was merciless.

“How long do they go between breaks?” Svara asked.

“I don’t know.” Jedrek shrugged. “I don’t usually watch them. The only other time I did was when they first started, and… well, this is nothing like then.”

That was news to Svara. She wondered what was really happening here today.

Dahlia rose to her hands and knees, but paused. She began to tremble, and then punched the ground so hard that Svara was convinced she broke some fingers.

“Oi!” Matron Cascata shouted. She rushed over to her fallen apprentice and kneeled beside her. They were too far away for their observers to hear what was being said, but from the matron’s posture, Svara thought she was trying to comfort her apprentice.

“I don’t really understand what’s happening,” Svara confessed. “Is there some lesson here?”

“I’m just as lost as you,” Jedrek replied. “I don’t know if I can sit through much more of it. Think we should tell the elder?”

“Maybe?” Svara was surprised he’d ask her for advice about this. She was the stranger here.

They must have reached some kind of reconciliation at the bottom of the hill, because both women were on their feet again. They were removing their blindfolds, and Cascata was walking away from a grinning Dahlia.

“Oh? Are they finally taking a break?” Svara asked.

The matron turned around and said something to Dahlia. Dahlia nodded, and the matron sprang forward. Two steps, then she pivoted and jumped; the her fist lashed out and the back struck Dahlia’s cheek.

The force lifted the apprentice off her feet. Dahlia spun once in the air before collapsing in a heap.

“Dahlia!” Jedrek shouted. He was already on his feet and sprinting down the hill.

Svara’s eyes were wide, and she gritted her teeth. That was a magnificent strike. It made the most of both muscle and weight. It would be a miracle if it hadn’t snapped Dahlia’s neck.

Svara began to stand. She was deciding whether she should confront the matron or retreat to camp when she saw Dahlia sit up. Jedrek tried to fuss over her, but she put him in a playful headlock. The matron stood a few feet away, looking up at Svara with an embarrassed expression.

Svara wasn’t sure what to think. She supposed it was safe to approach, though, so she did.

“I di’n’t think ta see if anyone were watchin’,” Cascata explained when Svara was close enough.

Is it okay to hit her like that if nobody’s watching? Instead of speaking her mind, Svara smiled and looked to Dahlia. “I’m just surprised she’s conscious. Impressed, I should say.”

Dahlia grinned back, but didn’t relax her hold on Jedrek. It seemed Svara could make a quick friend with a few well-timed compliments. “Weren’t nothin’. I could take more!”

“Oh?” The matron cocked a mischievous eyebrow. “Wanna try?”

“N-nah.” Dahlia conceded. “I could, but that don’ mean it’s fun.”

Jedrek began beating his fist against Dahlia’s shoulder. While it didn’t seem to hurt, Dahlia was startled by his zeal. She released him, and he scrambled backward on all fours. His face was red - not from exertion, Svara decided - and his eyes shone with fresh tears.

“What were you two doing?!” he demanded. “How is any of this okay?!”

Svara glanced between Dahlia and Cascata; she, too, would like that question answered. Dahlia, however, seemed confused about why Jedrek would think anything was wrong, and the matron looked away like she just wanted the whole thing to disappear.

“Well, that big hit was Dahlia’s idea…” Cascatta rubbed the top of her head, a sign that she knew how insufficient the answer was.

“I saw lots of big hits, matron!” Jedrek retorted. “Svara and I couldn’t believe what we were watching!”

“You really were letting her have it,” Svara admitted.

“Tha’s jus’ how it’s done,” Dahlia said dismissively.

“So she wasn’t hurting you?” Jedrek demanded.

“Nah.” Dahlia didn’t sound like she was lying. “Well, ‘cept for that last one, but I told ‘er ta do it. The rest wasn’t any diff’rent than ‘ow all the hunters dance.”

“Not exactly, Dahl,” the matron confessed.

They all looked at her expectantly.

“Jus’ before ya wanted ta feel what it was like if I really hit ya, I told ya you were makin’ better progress than anyone else I ever taught. Tha’s still true, but it was also a different sort o’ progress.”

“How ya mean?” Dahlia prodded. Svara suppressed a giggle; Dahlia obviously still loved this praise.

“E’er since we started doin’ this, I began ta notice you’d tense up ‘fore I’d tap ya. Not just yer body in general, neither, ya’d tense the part I’d be aimin’ fer. Ya knew the hits were comin’, and even though ya couldn’t avoid ‘em, ya prepared ta take the hit, ta make th’ damage smaller instead. Tha’s really good when ya can’t see. I still can’t let ya hunt until ya can avoid them hits, but ya learned they was comin’ way earlier’n anybody else ever did.”

Dahlia beamed at the assessment.

“This is where I done ya wrong, Dahl. Most apprentices whine when I start tappin’ em while dancin’, but you only ever got mad at yerself. Never me. I got curious, started tappin’ ya harder n’ ‘arder, an’ nothin’ changed. I stopped goin’ easy on ya, stopped bein’ slower on purpose ‘cause I wanted to see ‘ow bad ya ‘ad ta be losin’ ‘fore ya whined at me.”

“I’d whine about that las’ one,” Dahlia confessed, rubbing the enormous bruise on her left cheek. Svara wondered how she still had those teeth.

“Tha’s jus’ it, Dahl. Ya wan’ed me ta hit ya fer real, but I been hittin’ ya fer real fer days now. That las’ hit was jus’ extra real, like me tryin’ ta put a bruise on Chomp real.”

“What’s Chomp?” Svara mouthed to Jedrek.

“He lives in there,” Jedrek mouthed back, pointing at the woods. Svara shuddered at the thought.

“That hit woulda killed Jedrek or this li’l stranger ‘ere. I ain’t been trainin’ ya ta hunt these past couple weeks, Dahl, I been tryin’ to learn yer limits. We’ve been dancin’ not ta teach ya, but because I need to learn to teach.”

“You need to learn what to teach, matron,” Jedrek corrected. Svara thought he must not be angry anymore if he was trying to help the matron speak with more precision. “You know how to teach, you just didn’t know the subject yet.”

The matron just shrugged. She probably didn’t understand or care about the distinction.

“I’m tough, I know it,”  Dahlia said flippantly. “Why’s tha’ mean ya gotta teach me diff’rent?”

“ ‘Cause you’re so diff’rent that there may be a way that works better fer you than my way works fer me.” Cascatta scratched at her cheek thoughtfully. “Jedrek, ya know the elements?”

“Do I know the elements?” Jedrek scoffed. “Do you?”

“Er, right,” the matron grinned sheepishly. “Well, ta live is ta do magic, right? Our bodies are made up of all the seven elements, so just livin’ is sorta like casting a spell?”

“So the elder says…” Jedrek seemed to be having an epiphany.

“An’ each element ‘as personality, jus’ like we do. Only theirs be less, because our attitudes’re made from their attitudes, jus’ like our bodies are built from their bodies. Most people’re are born in a way where one o’ them elements’ attitudes comes out stronger’n the others. The person is like that element. Wha’s that word, Jedrek?”

“Affinity,” Jedrek answered. “You think Dahlia has an affinity for earth.”

“Tha’s the one. And aye. The elder says I’m like a waterfall, and I think Dahlia’s like a rock.”

“More like a mountain,” Dahlia boasted with a grin.

“More like a pebble!” Cascata leapt at Dahlia and began playfully grinding her knuckles against the girl’s scalp. “More like a piece o’ gravel tha’ gets caught in me shoe an’ bugs all th’ nice outta me!”

Svara chuckled and shook her head as the two wrestled. She doubted Dahlia actually understood what they were talking about. This was Svara’s family trade: to teach members of the soldier caste, ones with the proper air affinity, to Breathe. It was fascinating to see someone as uneducated as Cascata make lectures on the subject. Svara had always wondered, but now she knew the upper castes didn’t give the masses enough credit.

“It’s worth bringing up to the elder,” Jedrek admitted. “Why haven’t you?:

Cascata shrugged. “I like doin’ things on me own, I guess. But the ‘urt in me arm does make me feel sure that Dahl’s earthy. May as well go talk ta the elder now.”

“Could you have these two handle that, matron?” Svara asked. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you. It’s about the people who were chasing me. I won’t be staying long, but there may be more coming after me, and they may come for your family, too.”

“Aye, I wondered ‘bout that.” The matron nodded. “Don’ let it concern ya, lass. It weren’t your fault, we made the war.”

“Yes, your people helped me by their own choice.” Svara felt guiltier than she let on. “And I want to help you by my own choice. The people chasing me have an affinity for air. I have that same affinity, and I know how they’re going to use it. I can help you be ready.”

The matron paused, inspected the look in Svara’s eyes. “The elder says magic’s like a country’s best weapon, can be more important than their army. Keepin’ it secret keeps yer enemies guessin’, makes ‘em think twice ‘fore makin’ war. We ain’t enemies, but ya sure ya wanna be sharin’ those secrets?”

Svara wasn’t, but she nodded anyway. “You’re good people. Better than the ones who are after me. I couldn’t bear the thought of your family suffering because of my art.”

The matron gave a respectful nod. “I’m grateful. Jedrek, take Dahl and talk ta the elder bout them affinity things. Dahl, when ya done with the elder, come back and bring the other ‘unters.”

“Sure,” Dahlia stood up and slugged Jedrek’s shoulder. He gave her a scornful scowl, and Svara began to second-guess her earlier suspicions about his interest in Dahlia. She wondered if he had any idea about the cues he was giving.

“Been a while since I been th’ ‘prentice,” Cascata chuckled. “Ya ever been th’ teacher before?”

“Yes.” It had been far too early to put her in charge, but Svara’s family had been raising her to lead their monastery. “Am I correct in guessing you learn best by doing?”

“Aye.”

“Then let’s begin.” Svara took a deep breath.

-CUT-

Survey time!

1.) My biggest concern with this chapter is the 'Jedrek's fancy' element. The idea is to bring another symptom of culture shock into the equation; Svara comes from a culture where women are taught to mistrust men, particularly strangers who are nice to them. It must mean they're after something, right? Ulterior motives, for certain! Meanwhile, Jedrek's just a very nice kid and the clan has never seen any reason not to nurture that. I want these interactions to have a culture shock flavor, but also an urban-vs-rural flavor.

There's supposed to be a question in there. Here it is! Does this element work? Does it feel forced or unnatural? Am I touching a nerve without realizing it?

2.) Were you able to follow the events in this chapter? It's more about interaction than plot advancement, but some of the latter's still happening. Mostly, I want to make sure we're understanding the magic discussion. Were ya?

3.) Any issues with dialogue? The hunters and their rough dialect are back!

Meta-critique:

A.) Did we remember everybody? It's been a while since we saw Cascata, Dahlia, and Jedrek firsthand.

B.) I know we haven't seen a ton of magic yet, but still: does anything introduced in this chapter conflict with anything you read earlier?

As always, feel free to ignore the questions and yell at me for any other issues you had.

Chasing Wind Chapter 3: Held Breath

On and on is all we are. There's no reason this had to take two weeks. But it did! CALL YOUR LAWYER!

If you're new to the project, here's the first episode. The first chapter of this, the second book, is here. Finally, the reason behind this new post is here or below.



Chapter 3: Held Breath

Svara felt ill when she finally woke. Her bones ached, her head was pounding, and her throat was dry. Despite all this, she was overcome by how lucky she was. Was it ungrateful to hope her parents had also been blessed with such a miracle?

The tent was large, but still a tent. Its floor was earth, and only a meager amount of sunlight could penetrate the stretched leather. Svara was a member of the clergy caste, and until her flight, she’d enjoyed a life of luxury. A few months ago, she would have found these conditions appalling. After being on the run for so long, even these accommodations seemed lavish.

Sitting up, she found herself sharing the tent with an elderly woman and a short young man. The woman sat on a stool, cleaning and mending Svara’s clothes. She smiled warmly when she saw Svara rise. The boy sat with his back to Svara. Worried he’d turn around at any moment, she pulled her fur blanket higher.

The elder seemed to understand. “Trent, dear, could you please fetch Jedrek for me?”

“Can’t now.” Trent was tinkering with something Svara couldn’t see. “I need to focus.”

“Trent,” the elder said more firmly. “This is important.”

Trent shot a glare over his shoulder, but paused in his work. Svara wasn’t sure what she was watching.

“You’re a brilliant young man and integral to the clan, Trent.” The elder’s tone shifted. “But the things that make you special also make you bad at certain ‘people’ things. We’re having one of those moments.”

Trent grimaced and looked back to his work, stung by the truth. He sighed heavily. “I’ll go if you tell me what cues I’m missing.”

“This is a difficult one,” the elder said. “You’re accustomed to your siblings who have always been members of the clan. Svara is different, though. She comes from a place where it’s very bad for a boy to see too much of a girl’s skin. They’re used to complicated rules about when boys shouldn’t be in the same room as them.”

“I have no interest in making a child with Svara.” Trent replied simply.

Svara blushed, but chuckled. This boy had completely missed the point. She’d met people like this, helpless in social situations but savants in other subjects. Something about the familiarity made her feel a little less naked.

“I believe you, but this is purely a matter of comfort. I need Jedrek, she’ll be clothed by the time you’re back, and your work will still be here. Please, Trent?”

The tent was silent for a moment, then Trent sighed again. He swiveled around and made a point of looking Svara in the eye as he stood. “Sorry, Svara.”

“No, it’s quite-” Svara started, but Trent was already halfway through the tent flap. She chuckled again. “Thank you, madame… I’m so sorry, I forgot your name.”

“No you didn’t,” the elder grumbled, but then smiled. “Nobody around here uses it. My name is Inga, child.”

“Thank you, elder Inga,” Svara remembered now. The hunters had only ever referred to her as ‘the elder.’

“Think nothing of it. I’ll mold him right if it kills me! Come now, child, he’ll be eager to get back. I’ve done what I can, but you’ve worn these through some hell. Forgive me, we’re not equipped to repair such finery.”

Svara was quick to obey. “There’s nothing to forgive, I’m the one who ruined them.” They were the clothes of southern laborwomen, Svara wasn’t too concerned about their condition. If it weren’t for the pure, rugged utility of this clan’s clothing, she’d struggle to understand how this outfit could be mistaken for ‘finery.’

“Are you still in danger, dear?”

The question caught Svara by surprise. “I’m not certain, to be honest.”

“You don’t know how many were after you, then.” Inga inferred.

Svara had never encountered a tribe like this before. Words like ‘uncivilized’ and ‘savage’ were often used to describe such groups, and there was a general understanding that they were inferior. If this old woman was any indication, these people had been sorely misjudged. Svara could interact with her easily, like she was a fellow member of the clergy.

“At first, there were about forty,” Svara considered. “As you might expect, one person can move much faster than a group of that size. They must have split the faster ones off to make sure they didn’t lose me.”

“Yes, I can see how one person could outrun many,” The elder observed. “Particularly if that person had your gifts.”

Svara didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure how much Inga understood about Breathing, or if Evan’s story would lead the elder to the right conclusion. Even if she identified the element, would it help her understand how it was being used? A Breather could be considered a traitor for even practicing in front of a foreigner. Svara hoped she hadn’t broken tradition...

It suddenly occurred to her: who was left to benefit from her discretion? Did she need to keep these secrets any more?

“They may still have my trail,” Svara admitted. “It will depend on how fast they make it through the woods. They’re certain to find the bodies, but there’s no way to know if they can find this camp.”

Svara paused, looking the elder in the eyes. “Elder Inga, I may have brought danger on your people. I am so sorry.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Inga snapped her fingers. “How do your people pay respects for the dead?”

Again, Inga’s reaction caught Svara off-guard. “Fire. Those who keep the faith say their remains will delay their rebirth, so they must be burned.”

“Reincarnation. I think I remember that about the north now.” The elder nodded. “Thank you, dear. I’ll send the hunters to take care of that.”

“No, elder,” Svara took her by the hand. “Thank you, and thank your people. But I’m also so sorry. I’ll put some distance between us, but you need to be ready. There’s no telling what they’ll do when they discover their losses.”

“Oh, stop apologizing,” Inga put a reassuring hand on Svara’s shoulder. “By all three of the hunters’ accounts, you never asked for their help. If we incur your enemies’ wrath, we have those three to thank, and they have their matron and I to thank for raising them the way we did. You may leave if you wish, but won’t you rest some more?”

The elder frowned and began fretting over Svara’s clothes again. Now that they were on her, Inga seemed even less tolerant of their condition. “Oh, and you don’t owe it to us, but I would like you to remain long enough to help us understand how you made it through the woods. It could help us if anyone came looking for retribution.”

Svara bit her lower lip. She’d been raised to protect those secrets. To teach and protect; that’s what her family did. It was the duty of every member of the clergy caste, the reason they stood above the warrior caste.

It was also what led to her family’s exile.

“We call it ‘Breathing,’” Svara blurted. “One of my ancestors developed the practice. It makes use of the air element, or wind if that’s more comfortable. It’s a school of magic, is that the term in your culture?”

“Aye,” the elder nodded. “We’d call you an airspeaker, where I come from. How do you make use of it?”

“The same way you do.” Svara winced. That was a clumsy explanation. “I’ve heard foreigners say that ‘to live is to wield magic.’ Everything that walks on land makes use of the air element to survive. Breathers are just better at it. The wind just gives us more; energy, information, nourishment, all the things it gives you.”

“Very interesting. That’s how you move so fast, how you were able to navigate the woods, and how they managed to follow you?”

“Yes.” Svara hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. “There are ways an opponent can counter a Breather’s advantages. They need to think ahead, to know how a Breather thinks…”

“Can you teach that to one of my daughters? Ah, not by blood, family works different for us.” Inga chuckled to herself. “Cascata, the hunters’ matron. Can you stay long enough to help her understand Breathers?”

Svara considered. That all depended on how quick this Cascata could learn. “I can try. I’m not sure how long I was in the Dawnless Woods. It felt like weeks, but I know it was most likely a couple of days. I mean, I never ate…”

“So you have a couple days at most. I should think one would be the most she’d ask for, can you afford that?”

Svara nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” The elder insisted. “We’ll be in your debt!”

That couldn’t be true. It was Svara who’d been given something she could never give back.

“Let’s get you some food before I send you off with Jedrek.” Inga turned away.

“Oh, no, that’s alright…” Svara tried to protest.

“Nonsense. You just told me you haven’t eaten since you entered the forest. Here.” The elder pushed a small clay pot into Svara’s chest. The assortment of nuts and berries made Svara salivate. “We’ll make something more meaningful at dinner. Until then, the only way you’re parting with this is if you empty it.”

“Yes, elder.” Even hungry as she was, Svara didn’t think she could manage to eat all this on her own. She didn’t much like the idea of carrying it everywhere, but disobeying the elder seemed like a bad idea.

“Ask Jedrek about water, too.” Inga ordered. “I’m sure they’re back, he’d have the tact to make Trent wait outside.”

Svara hesitated one last time. The north had betrayed her family first, but betraying this secret might be worse. “Elder.”

“Yes dear?”

“You can burn a live Breather. It’s easier than it will be for your hunters to burn the dead ones. The wind… when it blesses us, we become more like it. If we’re confronted with fire, we’re at a disadvantage. In those cases, we have to focus on when to Breathe and when not to. I already know your children are good enough to match a Breather one-to-one, but maybe this will help you deal with their numbers.”

Inga gave her a knowing look, one of real gratitude and sympathy. “It can’t be easy for you to share such a weakness. Thank you, dear, I’ll make good use of the information. Get along now, midday is about to pass us by.”

“Yes, elder.” Svara gave a shallow bow before leaving.

-CUT-

Survey!

1.) It's all a conversation. Was it interesting enough?

2.) Any problems with vocabulary?

3.) This is probably the most frank discussion of magic anybody's had in the series so far. Was that disjointing in any way? And do you feel like you understand how "Breathing" works?

Meta-critique.

A.) Inga and Trent; do you remember both of them? Did anything seem out of character for either of them?