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CIRCE The things her sons presented to the shadowmere in regards to their experience were trifle things, the idle trappings of newly minted childhood. The mother inside implored that they leave off with this dangerous endeavor at once; they were so young, so obviously innocent to the atrocities of the world. They would learn about the world’s failings in due course, but there was no need to teach them so early, to destroy their childhood before it even began! Circe allowed this piece of her mind to rant and rave at its leisure—she also ignored it entirely. She knew herself; she knew Archibald. It was a foolish notion indeed to presume their offspring were innocent in their entirety. The shadowmere was no fool. Her sons hid things from her as they answered, in the contour of their speech, under their breath. For the time being, she allowed them to hide it. Circe snorted, gaining a whiff of the plant’s stink that continued to cling to her coat. It was fading, surely—though it remained a slap in the face every time she inhaled it. Never again, she promised with an inward shudder. “At least you are aware of yourselves,” she mused, her eyes locked on her son’s forms, the points of the savage horns they possessed, “It is very easy for children to go several months without fully grasping the presence of their own horn, at least until it is jammed into a tree trunk. You are not so air-headed, I think. Yes.” Her gaze flicked to her left, quickly observing the space between her and the nearest oak—her eyes then shifted to the right, inspecting the shore of the blood-stoned lake and how far it lay from her. There was space enough, she deduced. “Your horns are shields,” Circe said to her sons, attention shifting back to them, “just as they are weapons to wield. This lesson is not for teaching you how to inflict pain—you are much too young to consider that sort of battle. We are here today to teach you how to move your bodies as a warrior should, how your horn should be wielded, how it can be used for defense, and how to flee from an impossible situation.” Circe paused; she called an image of Archibald to mind, the memory of their spar, the memory of spars passed. “When a warrior moves, it is with effortless grace. A warrior rooted to the ground is quickly defeated; a soldier who is always flowing with the tide of battle remains alive and victorious. You will grow up to be large, like your father, I’m guessing. You have seen the power with which he moves—yet he dances in battle, ever adapting with his enemy, anticipating the attack without exerting so much of his precious energy.” Circe demonstrated; her head dropped, her horn pointed, cold and deadly, towards her sons, and she glided first to her left, her hooves stepping lightly over each other with practiced ease as she laterally advanced toward the nearest oak. Her tail lashed in the air as the shadowmere switched directions; her neck and barrel curving slightly, Circe then side-stepped to the right, stopping just her hooves clipped the edges of the lapping waves of the lakeshore. The whole of her exhibition lasted seconds. “See how I move as though I float? All warriors must move like this, regardless of size and strength. The key is to keep your muscles relaxed instead of clenched and tensed as a nervous yearling courting his childhood love. You anticipate the attack in your mind; your body must be kept loose so that it is ready to strike at a moment’s notice, otherwise you lose precious stamina if you keep yourself strained. “Observe how I hold my head; how my neck is relaxed and my horn sits parallel with my chest and the ground. Not too low; not too high. This is the neutral stance of a unicorn warrior. You are ready to defend yourself and ready to attack in this stance—you waste no energy holding it, but your body is poised to act upon whatever the situation calls for in a second’s notice. Assume this position now; practice it.” She waited with calm eyes for her sons to do as she commanded; several moments passed before she recommenced with her instruction. “Now move as I have shown you—“ she demonstrated the movement as she spoke; a couple of side-steps to the left, another few to the right, “—and keep your body as loose as you are able while holding your horn thus. Move from the tree to the shore of the lake—do not stop until I tell you to. Begin.” @[Abraham] |
