Death's Vengeance

Chapter 34~Training

*Elizabeth's POV*

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6..." the tiles never seemed to end.

As I lay bedridden with nothing else to do my only entertainment was counting the tiles on the ceiling. It was my second day at home and everyone was treating me as if I was fragile and delicate. It was very frustrating. I had already considered and attempted to escape, don't think otherwise. Trust me it didn't work out, I barely gotten ten feet from the door without being stopped by someone. It was agonizing just doing nothing. Really this should be some kind of torture. One good thing, in fact, the ONLY good thing that came out of this was that Dylan and Clarity had gotten closer and we could all talk freely with each other. We would sit and talk for hours about random things like school. Due to my kidnapping and coma, I missed just over two weeks of school leaving me behind in classes. My sister had spoken to the school board and principal and it was arranged that Clarity and Dylan would tutor me to help catch up in classes. Thankfully I didn't have to do any missed classes or exams. So our days were filled with talking and studying. Not only had I missed school I'd also missed James's coronation. It was held off because of my absence but law interfered, stating that he had to be crowned. I honestly didn't mind and I was more concerned about when I would have time to train. You really though being injured and weak would stop me if anything it would help. If I learnt to fight injured I would naturally become better and would not be defenceless if I was ever injured again. I mean I'd been fighting ever since I was a young child. It was in my nature after all. The memory of my first fighting lesson was so vivid I could even recall the smells....

~Memory~

It was hot outside. Sweating weather actually yet I was still excited for my lesson. I'd been bugging dad for months now and finally, he grew tired of my constant begging and he'd given in, resulting in today's event. Jogging to the training grounds, adrenaline running through me was enough to get my energized eleven-year-old self hyped up. My father stood waiting for me patiently in the centre of the turfed outfield. My father can be quite an imitating man, but to me he was the nicest man alive. Today he had his stern, concentrated face on which meant hard work was to be had. His gaze lightened when he saw me but he still had that firm look in his eyes. "Let's get to work shall we?" he asked. I nodded, tense and ready. "Okay, we're going to see what you can do first. Punch me!" he insisted. Slightly taken aback I nervously fisted my hand and turned on an angle to throw my punch. Midway to his stomach, my father caught my fist. "Your fist is not correct. You need to have your thumb on the outside so that you don't break it." He told me, demonstrating the fist with his callused hand. I nodded and corrected my hand before ramming my hand hard into his stomach. My father didn't even budge with my tiny punch only remained frozen "Little one, first rule of fighting is that you don't attack a person at their strongest point. I have a much bigger frame and I'm much taller so my stomach is stronger. If anything attack me on my side." He advised. I followed his instructions to the point, slightly disappointed that it wasn't as easy as I imagined. Fighting wasn't easy like everyone said it was but it could be, however that was only if you were prepared to put in the time to really learn. You had to be dedicated and persistent. I strived to be that person. The lesson progressed mostly with my father correcting me on stuff like my stance and my kicks. The sun's shadow dropped in the sky and that's when my father called it a day. "Alright you definitely improved today good job!" he exclaimed. Although I was thrilled that I was learning to fight I wanted to actually fight "Yeah dad it was great but when can I actually be taught things I need to know to fight with!" I complained. He chuckled a throaty laugh "Little one there's no need to rush! We have years to practice!" He called out, messing with my hair. Smiling up at him I walked off towards the house.

~End of memory~

That day remained in my memory and it one of the first that actually helps me today. His last lingering words were so true yet so wrong at the same time. Hastiness is one of my weak traits and using its opposite, patience, had saved my life many times but his words were also so tragic. Yes he had some years with me but then he was stolen from me. His memory may be bitter but it's helped me overcome many obstacles. Since that first initial lesson I've grown to be who I am today; a warrior woman. I was proud of myself and I hoped my father was proud of me too.