Daughter Of The Wind --Western Wind
Page 31
#
As the journey continued, the wolf’s mind brushed Pink's often during the day. Where the trees were thick he remained close. If they paused to take advantage of the walnut or apple trees he lingered just out of sight. Large open fields he would go around but he was never far enough away to be out of her head.
During the small hours of the morning, as she stood watch, he sat by her side. Between Angel and the wolf, there was little need for her to be on guard; nothing dared approach the camp. She used this time for weapons’ practice. She felt she was improving, but with no one to spar with, she could not be certain how she would fare against an opponent.
Early one morning, as she worked at her drills, the wolf commented on her position. “Your feet need to be further apart. Bring your right foot forward to improve your balance.”
“What would you know about balancing on two feet? You have four,” Pink snapped at him, irrationally angry because she knew he was right.
A moment later his huge form lunged at her, coming in under her blade; his forepaws hit her square in the stomach. She tumbled backwards into a puddle with the weight of the wolf on top of her in a mass of paws, wet fur, legs, and arms. Pink disentangled herself and sputtered in fury, “What did you do that for?”
Water dislodged from the wolf’s coat as he shook, spraying Pink. “I told you to keep your feet further apart. If you’d listened to me, I wouldn’t have been able to dump you in a mud puddle.”
“What if I had connected with you? Instinct made me try.”
“Hah.” The wolf scoffed at the idea that she might be quick enough to strike him. He sent her an image of herself chasing him around. He was always well out of reach. “Besides, what are you going to do? Kill me?”
His tone reminded Pink that she was dealing with an immortal creature.
After that he became her instructor. More than once she landed in a heap—though she’d learned to avoid practicing by puddles. It was not at all unusual for her to get to practice her Healing skills on herself, repairing a cut on her lower leg, or a forearm where he nipped her for not moving fast enough. Somehow he managed to never do more than break the skin, his teeth wielded with the expertise of the finest swordsman.
She had no idea how he knew these moves but under his direction, she felt the movements become more natural and graceful. When he was happy with her performance of the basics, he began instructing her in different types of maneuvers.