The Blind Lead [open]

[Enon // SoMtW]

Enon stood on the lawn, now verdant and green. It was amazing what a little care and rain could do to erase the past. She held a staff in her paws, it was the thickness of two of her fingers and just a touch shorter than she was. Her paws inched apart, her one eye scrutinizing them to be sure her grip was correct. She then swung into a series of exercises.

The scars pulled across her shoulders, and it irritated where the cloth of her tunic rubbed over them, but this was put to the back of her mind. She needed to exercise, to train, to adjust. She was done with pity and was back to work. She smiled slightly as she took a step to the left, performing a set of complicated maneuvers. Blanard had taught her those. She well remembered the grizzled sergeant, how jovial he had been, yet so totally perilous. She took three steps forward and then one to the right, turning with a twirl, slashing the staff down and around. She took a break, standing at rest, panting. She hadn’t worked like that for months, and she felt the muscles warm, starting to become sore.

“Ah’m no blind yet.” She said, seemingly addressing the air. “Ye needn’t hide, anyballyways.”

[Tirael]

The intruder stepped tentatively out from behind the bushes. Tirael seemed incredibly embarrassed to have been caught, and stayed where he'd been, a fair distance from Enon. "I-I didn't mean to bother you, I was just, er...watching." Scratching the back of his head, he hesitated before adding, "You're quite good."

He bit his lip, considering something for a moment. Moving further from his hiding spot, he revealed what he held in his right paw: a staff, much like the one Enon had been practicing with. It was obvious that even holding it embarrassed him, but there it was. "I, uh...could you show me how you do that?" He knew he was no warrior; he had accepted that a long time ago. But he was tired of being so defenseless that he needed protection everywhere he went, and the staff suited him. It was only a weapon if it had to be, lining up perfectly with his own philosophy about fighting. Now holding the staff with both paws, he waited hopefully for the squirrel's answer.

[Maxodis]

Of all of her habits to pick up on, it just had to be climbing. He couldn't have instead learned to create deadly poisons, or develop a sharp wit. No, the weasel had to find some base sense of security from climbing trees. Not that he was bad at it, his muscular structure made the task almost absurdly easy for him to make his way up almost anything. The problem lay within his size. Those same muscles made him appear bulky, and not at all at home within the high confines of a tree.

And still, there he was. He reclined on a thick branch of an old Elm tree, his back pressing against the trunk. One arm rested easily on his knee, his other leg swinging lazily from the branch. He was high enough in the tree for the shadows of the late morning to hide him from view, but at the same time there wasn't much to be seen from within. It was for this reason that his vision was focused on the squirrel, as a convenient clearing of the dense leaves offered an unobstructed view of her activities.

She'd only been there for the past hour, if he was reading the sun correctly. His eyesight wasn't exceptional, nor was the tree he reclined in close to her, but it was enough for him to see what she was hearing and hear the distinctive whumps as her staff pushed around air. No stranger to polearms himself, Redin found her technique to be rather stiff. Watching her practice, which, while curious(The weasel never practiced alone, fighting invisible opponents was something better left to imaginative children), inspired a distant longing to stretch his own muscles. Having only been within the confining walls of the sandstone building for less than forty-eight hours, he was already beginning to find himself restless.

He almost began to make his way down when that otter healer stepped out from a cluster of bushes. Redin watched carefully, unable to hear their voices but finding the exchange to be easily understandable regardless, the staff in the otter's paws spoke for him. Laughing softly to himself, Redin took a quick glance at the sky, making note of the sun's position and realizing that he could only stay to witness the two creatures for less than an hour before his conscience would drive him back inside to sit and wait for his friend to wake. He eased back against the trunk, the tip of his hanging tail curling with his sparked interest. It would certainly be something to see if the healer lasted even that long.

[Treble Tiderunner]

The intruder stepped tentatively out from behind the bushes. Tirael seemed incredibly embarrassed to have been caught, and stayed where he'd been, a fair distance from Enon. "I-I didn't mean to bother you, I was just, er...watching." Scratching the back of his head, he hesitated before adding, "You're quite good."

Enon nodded to Tirael in greeting and dropped her staff. She started stretching the stiffness and ache out of her muscles, a slow but sure process. She scrutinized the younger otter, trying to decipher why he was lurking about in bushes. The answer became clear soon enough, though, as he cam fully out of the shrubbery.

"I, uh...could you show me how you do that?"

She tilted her head, watching the emotions play across his face. “O’ course, lad.” She said, reaching out and gently pulling the staff away. “But we willna start wi’ this, wot!” She nodded at the grass. “Gimme as many as y’got.” She saw his blank look and elaborated with a sigh. “Push-ups, Tirael lad.”

[Django]

Django stepped gingerly out of Great Hall onto the abbey grounds. His footpaw was still sore, and his shoulder still ached, but he was managing. He gripped the yew branch he'd grabbed the other day as he strolled casually on the soft, green grass. He'd carved it to look more like a staff, and engraved his name into it. He'd hardly let go of the thing the entire time he'd been at Redwall, which wasn't long.

Looking up, he noticed a tall black squirrel across the lawns. At first he thought it might be the pretty one he'd met the other day, but as he got closer, he noticed this one was older, and more battle-worn. She was speaking to the otter healer, whom Django had already met. The mouse could never quite remember the otter's name. Tirel? Tyral?

Noticing that both creatures had a staff similar to his, he cocked his head, having a thought. Could the squirrel teach him to fight? He stopped, looking down at the home-made weapon in his paws. Never again in his life did he ever want to be as helpless as he was on the day he came to Redwall, and if this was an opportunity to train, he did not want to miss it. Bolting over to where the two older creatures stood, he stopped a respectable distance away and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"'Scuse me," he began. "Um, are yew givin' lessons, miss?" He looked up at the squirrel's scarred face, quite intimidated, but undeterred nevertheless. She had a scar over the same eye that Django had two brown spots, and it looked like she wasn't able to use that eye too well. The mouse's brown eyes darted over to the otter, who looked rather uncomfortable holding a staff; then he returned his gaze to the squirrel, wondering for a minute if she was related to the other younger black squirrel he'd met before.

[Tirael]

“O’ course, lad. But we willna start wi’ this, wot!”

Releasing the staff as Enon grabbed it, Tirael felt a mixture of relief and uncertainty. At least she hadn't shot him down. The worst of it was the asking, and that was over. And despite the fact that he had come to her to learn how to use a staff, it was nice not to have to hold it. Somehow, he knew he wouldn't be comfortable with the idea for a while.

“Gimme as many as y’got.”

Glancing at the grass, the otter hesitated as he considered what that could possibly mean. As many...what? Staffs? No, that didn't make any sense. Ears perking as Enon sighed, Tirael wilted slightly with embarrassment. Again, he was being a nuisance with his inability to catch on. If there had been any way to learn to fight without wasting somebeast's time, he would have chosen that method in a heartbeat.

“Push-ups, Tirael lad.”

"...oh. Right." Suppressing his usual urge to question everything (he was already a burden to Enon as it was), he got on his knees and was about to begin giving as many as he 'got' when a voice behind him cut in. Turning to see who it was, he was visibly surprised to find out it was Django. The mouse was still recovering, and Tirael realized that creatures always seemed to be up and about far earlier than he expected, or demanded. Maybe he was just a pessimist.

"Um, are yew givin' lessons, miss?"

Looking from mouse to squirrel, Tirael realized the odd position he was in: on paws and knees, staring up at a conversation. And I haven't even been training for a minute...good start. He didn't really mind what Enon's answer was, but he wished she would answer quickly.

[Treble Tiderunner]

"'Scuse me," he began. "Um, are yew givin' lessons, miss?"

She looked the young mouse over, still holding the two staffs in one paw. She was still adjusting and learning how to judge distance all over again, and she was silent a moment. She looked back towards Tirael, who looked rather comical on his paws and knees. What would it hurt?

“It would appear t’be so.” She said in her heaviest northern brogue. “Ah’m Enon McKie, lad, an’ ye prolly know Tirael there.” She gave a short nod in the direction of the healer. She waited until the mouselad introduced himself, then spoke again.

“D’ye know how t’do push-ups?”

[Django]

“Ah’m Enon McKie, lad, an’ ye prolly know Tirael there.”

Django gave a short wave to both creatures, commiting to memory the names he'd been given. He wasn't too good with names. "Nice t'meet you, miss Enon. An', uh, good to see ye agin, Mr. Tirael" he said, giving a small rueful smile and rolling his bad shoulder forward to loosen it up.

"D'ye know how t'do push-ups?"

The mouse was slightly taken aback by the question, but then he understood why Tirael was on his paws and knees. Django rubbed the back of his head with his free paw and gave a nod.

"Um, yeah, I c'n do push-ups," he answered finally. Placing his staff on the ground, he assumed the position and began hammering out as many as he could. Unfortunately, that wasn't many, for he had to stop right in the middle of one as his bad shoulder gave out. With a gasp of pain, he dropped flat on his stomach, gripping his aching shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he got to his knees, rubbing and rolling his shoulder.

"M'sorry," he muttered up at the squirrel. "Jus' a bit sore t'day."

[Tirael]

Tirael watched the conversation, faintly considering whether he should be standing, pushing up, or just sitting like he was. Enon seemed to have forgotten him, as she was now mired in conversation with Django. His thoughts strayed to why exactly he had ended up kneeling here in front of Enon when something Django was saying caught his attention.

"Um, yeah, I c'n do push-ups."

For a moment, the otter wasn't sure why that bothered him. As Django dropped, though, it hit him, and he held up a cautionary paw. "Wait, that's not--" But it was too late, and he could only watch as the mouse began doing push-ups, or at least attempting them, on an injured shoulder. It didn't take long for the display to end, though, and Tirael sighed at the rather abrupt finale.

"M'sorry," he muttered up at the squirrel. "Jus' a bit sore t'day."

"Of course you are, you had an arrow sticking out of you not too long ago," Tirael chided. Offering a paw to help the mouse up, he glanced at Enon and said, "He'll have to hold off on the push-ups, he's still recovering from a shoulder wound."

[Treble Tiderunner]

"Um, yeah, I c'n do push-ups,"

Enon opened her mouth to say something along the lines of ‘Great, you can do ‘em soon’s yore shoulder’s healed,’ and left it open as the eager young mouse dropped and started in on his push-ups. She glanced at Tirael, who looked dismayed, then back at the mouse, who looked in pain. The scarred black squirrel rolled her eye and went to thump the lad soundly in the head with the butt of her staff. Not enough to cause permanent damage, but a reminder.

"M'sorry," he muttered up at the squirrel. "Jus' a bit sore t'day."

She glared at him. “Aye, ye great idjit! Did Ah tell ye to flippin’ do them, or did Ah hear sommat different than ye?” The staff snaked under his shoulder to lever on the center of the mouse’s chest, to get him sitting upright. “Did ye want teachin’ or not, disobedient child?”

She spared a glance for the healer, as to say 'Duh, I'm not as dull as I look.'

[Django]

Django bit his tongue, glowering. Does everyone know about my injuries now? he thought angrily. He flinched as the squirrel hit him with her staff. Taking Tirael's paw, he stood quickly, dusting himself off.

Glancing to the staff pointed at his chest, he raised an eyebrow. Looking back up to the squirrel, he held his silence.

“Did ye want teachin’ or not, disobedient child?”

Exhaling loudly, the mouse nodded, turning his gaze aside. "Yes'm," he murmured. "I do wanna be taught." He unclenched his paws, which he hadn't realized were balled into fists.

[Tirael]

Tirael remained silent as Enon berated her newer, more damaged student. He thought she was being a little harsh; sure, Django hadn't exactly pulled the smartest move, but he couldn't recall the mouse actually being 'disobedient.' Of course, the black squirrel was teaching freely, so he supposed that her methods were entirely her discretion. He just made a mental note to try even harder to keep her pleased. Since nobeast had addressed him, he remained silent, waiting either for lessons to continue or reach an abrupt, untimely end.

Hopefully it would be the former.

[Treble Tiderunner]

"Yes'm," he murmured. "I do wanna be taught."

Enon nodded sharply, retracting the staff. The thought that she may be too harsh didn’t occur to her, when she was that age she was training with the hares, and a drill sergeant didn’t care for his recruit’s feelings, only that he did the job and did it right and was in reasonable health.

“Good.” She said shortly, turning to Tirael. “Pushups.” As he got down to it, she turned to Django and demonstrated something he could do without unduly injuring himself further, working past her own injuries.

Finally she stood and watched the pair of them. “Wot ye blighters need is some upper body strength.” She said, in that incongruous hare accent. “Now, I may be harsh, and I won’t always seem to be fair, but follow my orders and at the end you’ll get wot ye wish.”

[Tirael]

“Pushups.”

Relieved to finally know what he was supposed to be doing, Tirael got back down and began. After the first 8 or so, they began to grow tiring, but he pressed on, determined not to look like a weakling in front of Enon (or Django). Of course, he could only hold out for so long.

“Wot ye blighters need is some upper body strength.” She said, in that incongruous hare accent. “Now, I may be harsh, and I won’t always seem to be fair, but follow my orders and at the end you’ll get wot ye wish.”

Tirael could barely focus on what Enon was saying; he was too busy forcing himself to continue pushing up. A short time after she finished speaking, though, his arms gave out, and he was forced to stop. Panting, he nodded in a delayed response to the squirrel's earlier terms. "Whatever you have to do," he breathed. He just hoped that there would be more to these lessons than calisthenics and reprimands.

[[Sorry, muse is not with me tonight, it seems.]]

[Django]

Django continued doing pushups for a few moments longer than Tirael before he too had to stop. Standing, he rolled his bad shoulder and tried to slow his hard breathing. He'd drunk in every word Enon had spoken. In all honesty, he was excited at the chance to learn from someone who knew what they were doing. He'd "trained" with his dad years ago when they still lived in Mossflower, but his father couldn't necessarily be called an expert.

Finishing soothing his bad limb, the mouse looked up at Enon expectantly. "Wot next, marm?" he asked, his head surprisingly almost level with the squirrel's. He hadn't known he was that tall.