Training with Anne and Reynard over the past few weeks had been the best part of William’s service so far. He had improved by leaps and bounds, and had fun doing it. Certainly, the time would have been better spent under Brother Albert’s direct tutelage, but this was a close second for him. He found that Brother Albert’s teachings had cemented themselves in his mind as he relayed them to his friends, and he gained a new understanding for them as he took an opposing role in their application. He also quite enjoyed giving Reynard a good whack, every now and again. He was only human, after all.

  It wasn’t just him that had seen a marked improvement: both of his friends were barely recognisable in a fight. Sloppy fundamentals had been tightened up, and they had worked tirelessly alongside him to shore up their weaknesses as best they could. They had been competent fighters to start, but now he was sure they could give anyone in the squad a run for their money - him included.

  The divergence from Officer Axton’s useless drills with no feedback had allowed the two of them to blossom, just as William had. Reynard had stuck with the core of Axton’s fighting style, but refined it to something much more fitting for himself. Every swing still had William on the verge of trembling, but the boy was far more agile than before. Anne had experimented with different weaponry altogether, before settling on an unusual two-sword style. She was tight-lipped about the specifics, but William often found his strikes redirected to awkward locations that left him open.

  They had alternating days of sparring, to give each other sufficient rest, and today he was matched up with Anne. The two of them stood stretching in preparation in the training area, as Reynard observed. It had taken the other boy a while to see any benefit to simply watching the other two, but once he was on the receiving end of the feedback he saw its merit and took the role seriously. He could be somewhat stubborn at times, but not to a fault.

  The heat was nearing on oppressive today, the summer sun beaming down onto them unobstructed. He and Anne were already soaked in sweat, buried under their thick gambesons, and the spar hadn’t even started yet. Weather such as this was a rare delight, even at this time of year - most of the time, summers in this region were spent in a series of cloudy days and light drizzles. It didn’t seem it would last for long, though - they had spotted dark clouds on the horizon this morning.

  “Ready, Will?” asked Anne, stretching an arm above her head and getting into her usual ready position.

  He took a low stance and squeezed the daggers in his hands, aggravating a slew of cuts on his fingers, but he didn’t let any pain show. They were the latest injuries from training his Blessing, but nothing that was worth wasting the time of Sister Isabella. “Yes, I think so. Good luck!”

  Cautious offence was the key against Anne, he had found. It required deliberate strikes, and a degree of forethought that he did not have to apply for Reynard. In that vain, he dashed toward her and began his assault. He did his best to approach from odd angles that favoured his daggers, staying close to Anne to nullify her range advantage. Unfortunately, she was well aware of his tricks by now, and effectively countered them.

  Their weapons met in a flurry of metal, ringing out a song to which they danced; every one of their strikes was blocked or otherwise deflected. The two of them were in a trance, devoting every fragment of their concentration into pre-planned layers of attack and defence. It was a strain on both of them to keep this up, and the looming threat of two weapons certainly didn’t make it any easier.

  William was the first to score a hit - Anne had fallen for his gambit. She could not react quickly enough to avert a slash across her abdomen, and she hissed in pain. The gambeson she wore managed to prevent the worst of it, but it had taken a beating these past weeks and was no longer offering as much defence. Blood began to peek through, but did not spread far.

  William stepped back, concerned that the she may be seriously injured. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d hurt one another during spars, but it was the first occurrence in a while. They’d received quite the telling off from Sister Isabella for their repeated visits, before they put measures in place to prevent them. It was rather stupid, in hindsight, given the bladed weaponry they were swinging around at each other.

  Reynard shot to his feet, having noticed the injury too, but Anne shrugged it off. “I’m alright - I can carry on,” she said through gritted teeth, in an attempt to re-assure them both. They took her at her word, and Reynard returned to his seat, but he didn’t look fully convinced.

  Anne took the initiative this time, rushing at William, and it put him on the back foot. She seemed emboldened, somehow, and struck with a ferocity he hadn’t seen in her before. Her movements were no less fluid in spite of her injury, all finesse and grace; elegant, in a way that most fighters were not. He was impressed with how far she had progressed in such a short time, though he had a feeling that she had been holding back somewhat during the training under Axton.

  Dark clouds finally reached them, casting a dull shadow over the training area. The clouds brought with them heavy rain, shockingly abrupt.

  Reynard called out, “Weather’s fucked. You want to call it?” He received no reply - neither fighter had the mental capacity to spare on outside interference, and they simply ignored him as they did the raindrops that assaulted them.

  William ducked under an errant swing from Anne, and took one of his own with his off hand, but it found no purchase. He had continued to focus on progressing with his non-dominant hand, and it was paying dividends: every action felt much more comfortable, and the mental barriers that slowed his movements had been well and truly smashed.

  William did his best to evaluate Anne’s performance so far as they fought, trying hard to replicate the feeling of his Blessing in hopes that it would aid him. His movements began to slow, but he did come to a realisation: She’s focusing too heavily on her own attacks. He decided to deploy another lesson he’d been taught by Brother Albert. He kicked out at her feet, and she wobbled. Perfect. “Don’t disregard any part of my body! A strike can come-“

  He had no chance to finish his words, as one of Anne’s swords cut into the side of his shoulder. He let out a horrible, guttural scream, and dropped the dagger he held with that arm. The wound was deep, and blood flowed freely down his arm. It was a particularly nasty gash. It didn’t hurt as much as he expected, perhaps due to adrenaline. William was too scared to try moving the arm at first, afraid that it wouldn’t respond, but quickly got over the worry - it still worked fine.

  Anne’s face paled, and she threw her weapons to the floor, eyes wide. She ran over to William, and inspected the injury before doing her best to apply some pressure to it and stem the bleeding. “Oh fuck, Will, I’m so sorry!” The rain couldn’t wash the blood away fast enough.

  “Shit! Get him to Isabella, quick!” Reynard shouted as he ran over. He and Anne helped William stay steady, and they began a rushed walk over to Sister Isabella’s tent. Anne was struggling, having pushed herself too far with an injury, and so it fell to Reynard to do most of the heavy lifting.

  “I think it-“, William started, still in shock, “I think it may just look worse than it is.”

  “Well it looks fucking horrible mate,” Reynard assured him, which didn’t particularly help.

  “What have I told you about this? Have you all no sense?” Sister Isabella said harshly, to none of them in particular; there was none of the usual kindness in her voice. It reminded William of a mother scolding a child, and he sank down in his seat. “You - stop fidgeting!” She re-adjusted her hand back over William’s injury, and the familiar, uncomfortable feeling of healing returned to him.

  “It's my fault, Isabella, I-“

  “It’s Sister Isabella,” she scolded Anne, giving the younger woman a sharp look. “I don’t care whose fault it is - there’s a reason everybody else trains with wasters.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Honestly...”

  She was right, William knew, and they’d even switched over for a day or two some weeks ago. Unfortunately, the training had been far less effective: the inherent danger of a sharp piece of metal hurtling toward one’s face just couldn’t be replicated, and it did wonders for progress. As far as they were concerned, it was a worthy trade - so long as there was a healer on hand.

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  William shivered slightly as he felt the last of the wound knit itself back together, and the pressure on his wound ease. It seemed that Sister Isabella was done with her healing.

  “You are no longer in danger of blood loss or infection, but I will go no further,” Isabella began, veiled fury in her voice as she stared into William’s eyes. “Let this be a lesson to you, and a mandatory break - for all of you,” she said, sweeping her gaze over to Reynard and Anne. Reynard held up his hands in mock surrender, not daring to protest and incur her wrath.

  William rose from his seat, and Anne moved to replace him, lowering herself gently with a grimace. Sister Isabella let out a heavy sigh, and began tending to Anne’s wound. There was uncomfortable silence as the three of them stewed on their misdeeds, until Anne too was patched up.

  Finally finished, Sister Isabella turned to William. “Please, take it easy for a while William,” she said sincerely, her face pleading. His heart melted. How could he ever say no to her? “How about you focus on more of those?” she added with a smile, and gestured her head to the wooden Tibert that was displayed proudly to all who entered the tent. She had been overjoyed to receive her gift some time ago, and had given William a rare hug in return for it. It had become the focal point of many jokes between them, ones that anybody else would simply roll their eyes at.

  “I will,” he said softly, and he meant it.

  “Now, I’ve got plenty to do and I don’t need you three in my way,” Isabella said as she stood. She waved her arms, then added jokingly, “Shoo!”

  The three of them smiled, but they weren’t in high spirits. They made their exit with a friendly wave goodbye to Isabella, and began a hurried walk back to their tents, trying hard to shield themselves from the downpour.

  “She’s right, y’know,” Anne said to the others, a look of concern on her face. She reached up, moving deviant blonde hairs behind her ear. “We need a break, and it’s not safe, what we’ve been doing.”

  Reynard rolled his eyes and tutted. “He’s alright, aren’t you Will? It's what she’s there for, ain't it?”

  “I’m not joking, Reynard!” she all but screamed. “What if I’d hit him a bit higher, on the neck? What then?”

  He had no response, and simply lowered his head. Her words were heavy and carried an uneasy truth: she had come frighteningly close to a lethal blow. William took it hard, hearing this, and his mind began to churn over the events that lead up to him taking the hit. I took my mind off of the fight when I tried to think through too much at once, he thought. Attempting to replicate the focus offered by his Blessing had pushed him over the edge, unable to fully account for his opponent. It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.

  “We’re not doing it anymore, at least not for a while. And we’ll make sure we’ve got more than just these on,” she said angrily, tapping her chest in reference to the shoddy gambesons that she and William wore.

  William would have to take part in the break regardless of his own opinions, given that Sister Isabella would actively withhold fully healing his arm; even with it hanging limply by his side, he could tell that there was an awkward stiffness accompanied by a deep, painful ache. He didn’t think it would affect his carving ability, at least.

  “Right, well,” Reynard began with defeat evident in his voice, “I suppose we’ll be off for the rest of the day then. Don’t think we can get much done now.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” William replied. “I’ll see you later, Reynard - shall we meet near the training area?” William asked.

  “Sounds good Will, see you in a bit.”

  The three of them split up, and William set off toward his tent. He wanted to get some enhancement training in before the sunlight faded entirely. It was a shame that he couldn’t go back to the forest due to the rain, but he wouldn’t let that stop him entirely. He’d been as diligent in his enhancement training as he had with his martial training - at least once a day, for as long as he had time for. Unfortunately, that didn’t amount to much; there was precious little daylight remaining after the physical training was done, and it wasn’t an activity that lent itself well to candlelight or, even worse, moonlight. He had learned this lesson the hard way, and had the cuts to prove it.

  Despite this, William had still been making progress in his craft, creating a variety of small sculptures depicting animals. These were not gifted - instead, he left them within the forest as a form of decoration for the area in which he trained. He had attempted to vary his methods on each of them, similar to to his martial training, though it seemed not to be as effective here as it was there. William had realised only recently that he didn’t know if this enhancement training was having any effect at all - he hadn’t used his Blessing since his initial spar with Brother Albert some time ago.

  He was still nervous about using it, for fear of accruing some hidden injury or problem. There was a strange mental association he had when he thought of using it - he couldn’t help but visualise some mysterious toxin building up inside him, undetectable but deadly. It was something he was praying on recently in hopes of guidance, as it tended to put him in somewhat of a melancholic mood. Brother Albert’s advice on the subject would be invaluable at the moment, were he there to give it.

  However, the training still had a very real and positive effect on William’s well-being; the release of creativity was truly wonderful, and his mind was constantly drifting over to ideas for what to make throughout his days, or perhaps how he might improve upon his older creations. What had taken his fancy recently was something simple, having been inspired once again by the chapel - a small pendant, in the shape of a dove, to pay tribute to his faith. He had already picked out a suitable material some time ago, and deposited some in his tent for occasions such as this - the weather could be quite unpredictable.

  The forested area in which he usually trained was littered with past failed attempts at creating this pendant. Its smaller scale required a more delicate touch, and more forethought; it was a departure from the usual broad cuts and bigger shapes of previous works.

  William continued to work, and the rain continued to pour, until the sky had darkened and the moon was out. Eventually, the snap of wood drew William out of his trance: another failure. He sighed, but had no chance to linger in his frustration. If it was this dark out, he probably shouldn’t risk being late for his shift on watch.

  "It's not so bad, but it gets a bit boring after a while. Just keep your eyes on the treeline, stay far enough out, and try not to fall asleep,” Reynard said flippantly. “You get a right talking to if they catch you doing that!”

  William knew that his friend was joking, despite the delivery - Reynard was many things, but he wasn’t incompetent, and he wouldn’t risk something so serious. There hadn’t been any talk of those on watch seeing anything of note for the entire duration of the encampment, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen in the future. They needed to be ready to alert the camp, or lives could be lost.

  “Sounds easy enough,” William replied happily, one hand held over his eyes to block some of the rain, “shall we start walking the perimeter?”

  “Can do, but we’ll have to go opposite ways, I think - that’s how it’s usually done.”

  An angry shout came from inside a nearby tent, “Shut the fuck up, we’re trying to sleep!” The two of them stifled a laugh, and gave each other a silent farewell before starting their patrol and going their separate ways.

  It was the dead of night, and the dark clouds now filled the entire night sky; there was little moonlight that managed to reach the ground. William turned his head to look back at Reynard, but saw only a vague blob in the distance that was difficult to distinguish from the backdrop and through the rain. Now that Reynard was gone, it was also eerily silent: almost all were asleep, fauna and person alike. What would have been peaceful in the day was sinister in the dark. He wondered why that might be, as he paused to scan the treeline for a time.

  No movement, apart from the swaying of the trees and the falling rain. That in itself had almost been cause for alarm, before William’s rational thoughts took over.

  He continued walking, looking out to the distance idly, and almost jumped out of his skin when his foot became completely submerged - for a second he thought he’d gone too far out and stepped into the ford, about to be carried away. Thankfully, or rather somewhat less unfortunately, it appeared that water had just made it much closer to the encampment. Great, he thought, just what I need tonight - flooding. The water was a sickly opaque brown, nothing like the clear water he was used to, and even this far out had a clear current that was flowing downstream.

  With a grimace, he continued, and eventually reached the ford itself - or at least as close as he was willing to get: the water was rushing by incredibly loudly, and he dared not think about how deep it was compared to usual. Even as far back as he was stood, the water level was past his foot. He looked out into the forest across the ford.

  Nothing. He squinted, trying to see more. Just the trees.

  He followed the river upstream, and by the time he had reached the top of the encampment the water had risen to just below his knee; he was wading through it, fighting against the current with every step. Thankfully the ground rose ever so slightly up ahead, and he sighed in relief as his boots squelched onto relatively dry land. Disgusting. He wasn’t looking forward to a few more hours of this.

  He considered moving closer toward the camp for his patrol, but visibility was already low that far out - any closer and he’d never see anything out in the trees.

  Around and around the encampment he went, sometimes passing Reynard with a silent wave and a shared look of discomfort. Unlike William, it looked like he’d taken his boots off rather than let them get too wet. It was a good idea, and it frustrated William that he hadn’t thought of it too, but by now it was much too late to bother.

  Eventually, back near the top of the ford, just as he was about to exit the flood water, something caught his attention. The trees off in the distance were moving far too much; if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the trunks themselves were up and about, and seemed to be getting closer.

  Shit.