The breeze sways the blades of grass. It is cold. They are still within the region of the Stake, the clouds are moving toward the east, darkening the skies.
Sol doesn't know why he followed the Old Chief, but he feels like it is not just a mere impulse.
Perhaps it is fear, perhaps it is respect toward an older Geherrim of his stature.
Or perhaps he truly wants to get tempered like steel.
Both of them stand across from each other, almost sixty meters apart. The wind is picking up, and Sol can see the river's water get disturbed by the movement of the wind. The grasses dance wildly in waves, some of the birds are already moving further toward the south in order to avoid the oncoming storm.
Nia takes one step outside the house, with Wanwan right next to her.
Suddenly, even without seeing, with his back still turned to them, the Old Chief's low voice rumbles through the wind. "Not another step, lass. When steel is tempered, the onlookers must stay beyond the sparks."
He looks to the side a bit and continues. "You as well, wolf. Cubs must not wander between two clashing horns."
Wanwan and Nia stop, just like that.
Sol looks behind and nods toward Nia. She looks at him and mouths you got this! silently.
The other four littermates of Wanwan feel like something is about to happen. Two of them are watching from the window, while the other two go right behind Wanwan and Nia.
The Old Chief removes his shirt. His body is thin, lanky, and already wrinkled with age, yet Sol can still feel the overwhelming amount of pressure he exudes just by standing in the middle of a meadow right on the edge of a silvery river, shirtless.
The wind picks up once more.
The Old Chief speaks up. "Answer me, boy." His body position changes.
"Even a dull blade must know why it was forged." His weight distribution changes, his center of gravity shifts onto his slightly crouching left leg, with his right leg diagonally forward. Both arms are held forward, palms open, his left arm extended farther than the right.
It's a stance.
He continues, "For what purpose do you stand, boy?"
Sol instinctively reaches for his tool belt, which is not there, as they have been removed some time ago. What he feels right now is just pure intimidation and a sense of danger that feels awfully similar to the one he encountered the night before, against the Nhiven.
His eyes wander to his feet, looking for something that he perhaps can hold in his hand to use as a weapon, if not for attacking, then for attempts at self-defense.
The Old Chief's voice vibrates on the wind once again. "A simple question, yet you of all people must know that the answer weighs more than iron," before disappearing with a step and appearing right in front of Sol, his left palm on Sol's right shoulder. "A silent heart rusts faster than steel, Solrith."
Solrith? Have I ever told him my name?
With a light touch, and an even lighter push, Sol is sent spinning in the air, flying toward the front door of the house, and lands with a massive thud near the gravelly ground.
The pain reverberates inside Sol's broken body. His bones are still fractured, some even broken. His back wounds are still open, and they start to bleed again.
But he doesn't feel like his body is unusable or powerless. On the contrary, he feels like he can still do something. It's the adaptability process going for him again.
He crouches and stands with quite a bit of effort, and tries to find the Old Chief, who has already returned to his previous spot.
The impact of the Old Chief's step leaves a massive hole near the spot where he was previously seen. His new position is just on the left of that crater.
Sol swallows.
"How did you..."
Chief Rahzmir told him about me? When?
He walks forward, moving back to his previous spot. He notices what this is. This is a way of proving within the Nhevari culture called Nil Mac'gjar. He was taught before by his teacher, Naama, Saylan's mother and Gazmir's wife, that this is a way of proving one's mac'ga to an older, more experienced, and more respectable Geherrim.
Now, Sol just has to find out which Nil Mac'gjar this is. Is it Shae-nil Mac'gjar, the lethal one? Or is it Fahn-nil Mac'gjar, the one where they will have to talk throughout the ordeal?
"I cannot answer that question, zhe'har."
It's his first time using zhe'har in a sentence, as it would require the younger person to actually respect the older Geherrim in a communication, and for the older Geherrim to actually be proven worthy of the younger Geherrim's total respect.
In this moment, Sol knows that whatever the Old Chief is doing is for his own good.
Sol blinks. He notices that the Old Chief has been closing his eyes, right from the start of the change from Ol' Crazy to this moment.
Is the change in demeanor has something to do with his vision? Or is this just his way of testing me? Sol's right foot is buried deep within the gravel.
The Old Chief directs his right ear toward Sol, a confirmation that he heard his first answer, and disappears once more with a massive explosion of gravel.
"....!!" Sol takes a massive, quick breath before ducking. It's almost a reflex. The Old Chief's left hand misses him by a hair's breadth. Sol is already underneath him.
It's an opening! I can use thi-- Before he can finish his thought, the Old Chief already spins his body to the left, using his right leg as a pivot. His left leg suddenly is right in front of Sol's crouching position.
A massive hit follows, sending Sol flying and hitting the wooden wall right next to the door where Nia and Wanwan stand. He drops to the ground once again, the pain flaring from his left jaw. The Old Chief is old, and his hit is not actually too damaging to him.
He feels like the damage came from his pride instead.
"A mercy, then. I will ask you once more, boy." The Old Chief steps back toward his previous position, his body looks like it's floating with air, before landing with grace and resuming his stance. "What purpose keeps you standing, boy?" His voice changes once again, now it almost reverberates around Sol.
Sol goes back to his previous position. His left leg aches, his jaw pulses with pain, he's not sure about what he should do. Should he just answer with something? Or is it better to be honest instead?
I can just answer something, and perhaps he will be satisfied.
He looks toward his opponent once again. The Old Chief is waiting.
But that... would be a lie, wouldn't it?
He shakes his head, and answers. "I don't know, zhe'har."
The Old Chief, again, disappears, but Sol has seen this trick twice, and he won't get hit by the third.
A massive hit is directed at Sol's right shoulder once again. Sol turns his body in time, using one of his legs as a pivot, and jumps, somersaulting right in front of his foe, who is currently spinning, on the way to kicking his torso this time.
The kick misses with a big whoosh, like a gust of wind to Nia and Wanwan's face. Sol uses his somersault's momentum to do a heel kick toward the face of the Old Chief.
An opening! I can hit him! His heel kick is fast, and the momentum helps him reach a good angle. He knows as long as the Old Chief is still in his spin, this attack will connect.
And then the Old Chief's eye opens, just a little, glancing toward him. "Do not strike while your footing wanders. Roots that drift cannot hold up a tree."
Huh? Root...?
Oh.
The Old Chief's left hand moves to welcome the heel of Sol's right foot, currently going down like an axe, and moves it with just a tap. That one light tap sends Sol's spin haywire. He loses almost all of his circular motion in one instant, landing with his face planted on the gravel near the Old Chief's feet. "When your blade has no path, thoughts of safety signify defeat."
Thoughts of safety...? I was wrong for defending and I was wrong for attacking. What should I do, then! He looks up, irritated.
The Old Chief's left leg is already lifted high, almost straight up. It's an axe kick, but this time he is the target.
"...!!" Sol knows he can try to roll to the side or to the back, but he knows that he won't make it, not without getting hit.
"A lesson, boy." The heel moves downward with such force. "Carve it into your bones."
And meets with the gravel. Sol is no longer there. The impact sends dozens of gravel flying, some fly toward Nia and Wanwan's position, something that Wanwan solves by jumping forward and spinning horizontally in the air, using his tail as a shield.
He uses the Old Chief's right leg as an anchor, pulling with his arms to gain momentum forward, and stops his movement right behind the old man. His position is prime for a counterattack, he just has to take the chance and perhaps--
A sound of a very crisp crystal breaking rings inside his head.
"...!!" Sol stops. He doesn't take the jump to attack the Old Chief from behind.
For a split second he feels something is off, a very bad feeling suddenly strikes him right in the gut, his entire body feels electrified by that instinct. An instinct that tells him that his opponent was already prepared for this. And if he followed through, the repercussions would have been dire.
But in reality, it is not only that. Sol might not realize it, but this is the previous breakthrough that he felt when he fought the csezul, delayed only by his unconsciousness. And now, with the pain and the experience accumulated into one and swirled together, it brings forth something entirely new to him, in the middle of a battle.
A Hunter's Instinct.
He jumps backward instead, getting some distance from the house and the Old Chief. His current position is right where the Old Chief was standing just a moment ago. He can see the crater that his opponent made on the gravel.
"A sound choice." The Old Chief turns toward his position, now walking slowly toward the sides. "A hunter lives first by withholding the wrong strike."
His position forces Sol to also move toward the side, closer toward the river on his left.
The Old Chief continues, "In a battle, understanding is the first weapon."
The Old Chief stops right in front of a patch of long grass, which means Sol cannot see the Old Chief's feet. The wind picks up even harder, there is definitely going to be a storm if this keeps up. "Without it, every strike is blind."
"Just as one would understand the wind over the grass..." The Old Chief's stance gets lower. "One understands one's opponent."
A massive dash, the long grass scatters in the wind. Sol dashes toward the sides, parallel to the river. The Old Chief appears in his previous position with a massive scythe-like right kick that startles the air and creates waves upon the calm surface of the river. His left foot touches the stone beneath him, and he spins his body toward Sol's position.
"To keep one's shadow from stabbing him in the back," he says. "One must understand one's self."
Sol doesn't even get the chance to catch himself, landing face first in the grass, ten meters away from the river. His consciousness is gone for a split second, the impact from the grass actually wakes him up.
I can't win this fight. At least I have to try to not get killed.
He can hear Wanwan growl with anger from near the doorframe, he's already a couple of steps out from the house. Sol glances sideways toward Wanwan and Nia for a moment, he catches a glimpse that Nia is currently holding Wanwan so that he won't join the fight.
But that one moment of him moving his eyes away from his opponent is something that the Old Chief has already predicted. Sol's eyes are in the process of moving back toward his opponent when he sees that the Old Chief's right knee is already right in front of his face.
Sol uses his right hand to parry the hit. It is moderately successful, and now he's reeling from the secondhand impact. The Old Chief's left palm is next, it's already moving toward Sol's trajectory.
Sol looks at the palm and reflexively turns his head, turning the direct hit into a glancing blow.
Both land on the patch of grass, only one meter from each other, yet both understand that they have learned so much about themselves, and their opponent, even without speaking. A slight smile can be seen on both of their faces.
Sol takes a step backward, catches his breath. His heart is beating fast, his blood flowing like an overflowing river, his vision is focused.
His mind, however, is crystal clear. And that particular crystal is so clear that the sound of ringing can be heard by Sol.
Before another crisp sound of a crystal breaking.
Like an epiphany, something goes inside Sol's mind. His eyes are currently seeing his opponent, an old man with hundreds of years of experience standing on top of the Longrass meadow. On his left, open field, even further, the river. On his right, the face of the mountain, not steep enough for him not to use it as a footstep, but not even enough that he has enough room to do whatever he wants.
Another shock of electricity runs up his spine, an attack is coming. He strains his eyes to see, and within some very minute musculature details, he can see his opponent's left neck twitch.
He will move sideways before dashing. Fast, have to be ready. A high kick, followed by another high kick. No counter, not yet. The Old Chief disappears just as he resolves his thought.
The Old Chief moves exactly like how Sol envisioned it. He takes one slight step back, and turns toward his back before moving himself low in order to avoid the second kick from the Old Chief.
Everything feels slow to him, each part of his body moves just as he wants it to move. He ducks another big hit and evades another hit from his left. He grabs the Longrass to stop his momentum and he can see that his opponent's stance is now slack.
"Impressive." He can see the Old Chief smile, before continuing. "Do you feel it? For one moment, your body and intent walked the same path."
Sol exhales.
"An opening."
His opponent disappears. He doesn't feel anything about this, only for the Old Chief to appear right in front of him a split second later, his right hand open, the palm moving toward Sol's stomach.
The pain radiates fast, his body buckles, he can feel the honeymilk he drank trying to claw its way out.
A direct hit toward his solar plexus.
Sol kneels.
He cannot feel any of his limbs.