Hiraeth -- Eleceed FF

Chapter 4

Nathalia twisted away narrowly as Lancelot leapt at her. Droplets of water from his coat hit her in the face, forceful as hail; her attack went wide. She hadn't sparred with anyone in years, ever since she'd come here. Though she and Cain Luterain– she wasn't sure, still, whether to trust him, though he hadn't done anything yet– had been training together for a few weeks now, she felt her inexperience showing acutely.

The style she'd been taught when she was young, and had practised every day in hiding, emphasised precision and control, but she was learning that it was ineffective when faced with something so durable as Lancelot. She could drown him, as she'd threatened when they'd first met, but it was meant to be a friendly spar, and it was unwise to display such power within the small, fragile spatial isolations she'd been making.

So she had to resort to throwing jets of water at him, which was tiring her out. And it wasn't even working, not after the first few minutes– Cain had figured out how to move the leopard such that the attack would glance off, and being as resistant to damage as Lancelot was, Nathalia was getting tired.

I was not trained for this. As she thought it, it sounded like an excuse, but she knew it was true. The Espinozas did not spar lightly– their techniques were honed to kill. There was only so much superficial damage you could do with water.

But as she dodged yet more attacks, the thought came to her that perhaps the problem was not in her technique, but in her target. Nathalia sidestepped an attack from Lancelot, who had jumped over her jet of water, and stretched out her hand to call up more water from the clearing's lake.

This time, it was Cain who was thrown backwards.

Nathalia let out the shaky breath she had been holding as Lancelot stopped for a moment, looking around. She had begun to walk around the panther towards Cain when she registered movement towards her.

Claws raked down her arm, flooding it with pain, and then she was running in the direction she had come, towards the lake. The rest was a blur: she remembered jumping into the water, but as the cold wetness started to sink in, she realised Lancelot had backed off, and perhaps she had come up or been lifted up, she didn't know, but then she was sitting on the grass beside the lake, Cain holding Lancelot back by his scruff.

Nathalia looked down at her arm; there were four deep gashes running from bicep to wrist, and one shorter, shallower one beside. Blood dripped from her hand to the grass, a little pool forming on the ground. Cain let go of Lancelot, who stalked away and lay down a distance off, and walked over to her.

"There's iodine in the hut, and bandages," Nathalia managed to say through the pain. "They're in a box beside my bed." Cain nodded, and started to walk off.

"Take the panther with you, please," she said, when he was already a distance away and she registered that Lancelot's growl was getting louder; she exhaled when he bounded away after Cain.

-

Nathalia sat across the firepit from Cain, cross-legged, bowl in hand. Lancelot rose and stretched, and for a moment she saw the off-white claws, sharpened to needle-points, before he lay back down. Involuntarily, she glanced down at her arm, where blood was starting to leak around the edges of the bandage.

"I'm sorry," Cain said, and she looked back up. "He has a very... strong will. Even I find it difficult to control him, especially in the heat of battle."

The coals were dying down, and in their dim light Nathalia could only catch a vague outline of Cain's face. She gave him a close-lipped smile. "It doesn't hurt too much." He nodded but said nothing; they were silent for a while.

Nathalia had almost finished eating when Cain spoke again. "You never told me why you were hiding here."

She shifted, set down her spoon in the bowl. "I suppose I ought to tell you." I suppose it makes you innocent if you really don't know.