Predator (DWT x OC)

56

Dream left the next morning with Sapnap, on an important mission to negotiate with a militia group on the outpost of the Greater SMP, leaving me and Punz all by our lonesome. Punz, decided that this was the perfect opportunity to try and handle the 'severe emotional baggage' I apparently carry around with me.

"Knees!" Punz instructs, and I bend my knees down lower, sinking into a basic fighting stance, keeping my weight balanced. 

"You're bossy today." I tease, relaxing to standing. Punz announced, proudly, that learning to fight was going to help me feel less terrified of being weak and powerless, like how I felt about Fundy. And well, we can agree to disagree on that whole can of worms, one I am not undoing.  

But the plus is, I can get to learn how to fight. Properly

"And you're in a good mood." He teases back. "I half expected you to come at me with a skillet after I, what'd you call it? 'Psychoanalysed you like some dumb fuck doctor'?"

I stifle my laugh. "To be fair, I was not in the mood for your 'wound healing' inner peace spiel and I was definitely not in the mood for you to start calling me weak."

"I wasn't calling you weak, I said you were afraid of being weak." He rolls his eyes, standing on the grass in front of the house, glittering weapons of all descriptions scattered at his feet. Dream would put himself into cardiac arrest if he knew what was going on. Punz decided the rewards outweigh the benefits. 

He motions, and I fall back into the form, stomach tensed, knees slightly bent and braced for impacts, shoulders square. 

"Okay, okay that's good." He says, walking around me, observing my shape. He's dressed more causally than I think I've ever seen him, plain white T-shirt and grey shorts. 

He comes to a stop in front of me, mirroring my stance. "When you throw a punch, you want your bodyweight as momentum, and you want to keep strong so whoever you're fighting can't knock you off balance." 

He suddenly lunges out, fist flying faster than I've ever seen it, almost hitting my face as I dip to the side, bringing my fists up to protect my face. He grins. 

"Perfect, you've got that! You kept your stance, and your fists are still raised so you can counter attack." He beams. "You can dodge well, and I've already seen your ability to manoeuvre, which is pretty good, and your striking is um-" He tries to suppress a smile, clearly fighting back some very poorly timed comments about Fundy and his untimely demise. 

And by untimely, I mean way to fucking late. 

"Well your striking works. Let's say that." He settles on. "Basically, now you have basic positions and balance down, I really want to get your proficient with facing and handling weapons."

I nod as I stand back up, glancing down at the assortment in front of us. Axes with brutal thick blades, heavy swords, small, lethal looking daggers, elegant bows with smooth wood and pin straight arrows. 

Bows I've always had a liking for, since I was a kid, despite the fact it's been at least a year since I've touched one. Swords, I hate, too big and broad and clumsy. Axes are reliable, solid, trustworthy, and a lot easier to wield, probably because I grew up chopping tree trunks in the forest. Daggers are useful, but I've never gotten much experience with one, beyond having it shoved up my pant leg out of desperation. 

"We'll start with the bow." Punz decides, picking up a sheath of arrows and handing them to me. I test the weight out in my hands, balanced and even, sturdy enough to hold. I take an arrow, and slip it into place, pulling the string back taut, letting it dig into the pads of my fingers, other hand clenched around the bow.