A northbound wind rushed through the trees, rustling the multicolored leaves and pushing the branches.
The warm morning sun filtered through the broken canopy in rays of red and gold.
The ground was covered in a blanket of fallen leaves; brown, yellow, green, and more than a few pure white.
This new dawn heralded the season of death.
A time of harvest, strife, and celebration.
Vrakhu sat beside the fire with his legs crossed in front of him.
His hair was shorter, hanging to his waist instead of his ankles. Though his beard and eyebrows were as long as ever.
A stone bowl balanced atop his left palm, steam and a refreshing scent rose from the black liquid within.
He closed his eyes and brought the bowl to his lips.
It was hard to go wrong with tea.
His eyes opened before he could swallow; two energy sources tickled his senses, alerting him to the incoming missiles sprinting his way.
To say nothing of the inner voices chattering in his ears.
Vrakhu slowly swallowed his mouthful of tea and stood to wait for them.
Corin burst into the clearing like arrows fired from a bow.
Her exuberant laugh filled the clearing.
“Told you I’d make it back first!”
Her voice was slightly deeper and steady despite running for nearly a mile.
She leapt at the tall barrier root, placed a single hand atop it, and flipped over it with effortless ease.
She landed in a crouch a few paces to Vrakhu’s right; the impact sent a spray of dirt and mud flying at him.
He smoothly slid out of the way, and the mud splashed over a crudely crafted backpack leaning against the Tree of purple leaves.
Corin continued to laugh while she brushed the dirt from her pants… then the laughter slowly faded.
She turned to face Vrakhu with an apologetic grin. “Sorry, Master. Got a little carried away.” She dropped her eyes to the ground between them and bowed in her usual awkward way.
Then Vrakhu blinked.
Corin had changed.
The movement caused her hair to fall forward and cover her eyes.
Her hair was as black as the night sky, which only served to make her skin look even paler.
Vrakhu observed her for a moment.
Her limbs were longer, her body taller.
She was growing like a bamboo shoot.
He’d weaved most of her outfit from materials he’d found in this very forest.
The brown shirt that left her shoulders and arms exposed.
The dark pants with fabric bunched around the ankles.
The thick leather belt around her waist.
Even the sandals that protected her feet.
He’d made it all piece by piece.
And he’d adjusted them to compensate for her growing height.
Vrakhu noticed the dead snake’s head peeking from a small bag on her belt and the basket of vegetables in her hand.
“You have ten minutes left.”
He brought the bowl back to his lips and took another sip.
Corin’s eyes widened, and she glanced around the clearing. “No time for snake stew then.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
She hastily removed the bag from her belt and tossed it into the hollow.
She never understood why their food stayed fresh longer inside the hollow than outside it.
But until it stopped working, she’d continue to use it.
Vrakhu watched her make breakfast for herself with practiced hands.
She’d eaten this same meal hundreds of times. And now she could probably do it with her eyes closed.
He glanced towards the Tree of purple leaves canopy before lifting the bowl to his lips for one last sip.
“Eight minutes.” He wiped his mouth with the corner of his sleeve and carefully sat the bowl on the ground by his feet.
“Got you NOW!” Corvin leapt from the highest branch and dove straight at Vrakhu’s unguarded back.
One arm held his basket of breakfast, the other a fist-sized rock — which he threw while falling.
Vrakhu stepped aside, twisted his body, and snatched the rock out of the air.
Corvin was undeterred.
He extended both feet as if he were intending to stomp on the old man’s face.
Vrakhu took a single step back.
Corvin’s feet passed close enough to brush his beard.
He landed with a heavy thud, his sandals digging deep into the soil.
But the side of his foot hit something else.
He hit the edge of the stone bowl Vrakhu had just sat down.
It flipped and clashed with the side of Corvin’s ankle, unleashing a chilling — Clack! — that made even Corin flinch.
The impact cracked the bowl, and it clattered to the ground in three pieces.
Corvin’s eyes widened and he bit his lip to keep the shout in.
“Ow…” His voice was barely above a whisper as he and Vrakhu both looked at the broken bowl.
Vrakhu stared at it for a while, then: “You have four minutes left.”
“What!? No, wait, I’m supposed to have at least seven minutes. I’ve been counting.”
Corvin dug a few things out of his basket before tossing the rest into the hollow.
He might question the old man, but he’d eat while doing so.
Vrakhu glanced at the fruit he’d chosen to eat.
Corvin moved to bite into the glossy red sphere of juiciness-
Vrakhu’s hand moved.
He smoothly lifted the fruit from Corvin’s hand, “Poisonous,” and blindly tossed it over his shoulder.
The fruit rolled into the flames beneath the stove.
"You broke my bowl. You get four minutes.”
Corvin looked at the two identical red fruits in his hand… His shoulders slumped and he marched over to Corin without a word.
Vrakhu blinked.
Corvin had also changed.
His hair was nearly identical to Corin’s, only wilder with strands sticking every which way.
Vrakhu no longer needed to look down to meet Corvin’s eyes.
Actually, he might even be taller than Vrakhu.
The little boy was growing into a rather large young man.
But Vrakhu had neither the skill nor the materials to make a different outfit for him.
He was forced to wear larger versions of Corin’s clothes for the time being.
Corvin put his hand on Corin’s shoulder and shoved her out of the way.
She stumbled a bit and almost lost her carefully roasted root.
“Hey! Watch it.” She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved him with her elbow.
He barely moved, aside from a small twitch of his face.
He shrugged and held his hands out to the side. “You’re the one hogging the fire.”
“Not my fault you’re slow.” She stuck her tongue out at him — then dodged a blind grab and danced out of reach.
He repeated her words with his mouth full of poisoned fruit.
It annoyed Corin how similar they sounded.
Weren’t boys supposed to have deeper voices than girls?
So why did she hear her voice coming out of that huge blockhead?
“Sorry for being a human and not some kind of flying squirrel.”
“Two minutes left.”
Corvin flinched and Corin smirked.
They’d gone back and forth over who was the better student.
Corin with her brains and speed or Corvin with his strength and tenacity.
Every day was a private competition between the two of them.
And to the victor went a prize neither were willing to pass up.
They kept this little contest from their master.
No doubt he’d think it was a waste of their time and energy.
Truth be told; without their contests, they may not have managed to keep going.
Corin and Corvin both knew it… But neither realized the other was thinking the same thing.
Corin looked at the amount of food in Corvin’s basket and the lackluster pile in her own.
He’d won this one.
Corvin looked at the meat in her bag. Genuine meat was hard to come by.
She’d stolen this one out from under him.
“But I’ll win the next one.” Their simultaneous thoughts flowed through Vrakhu.
And were subsequently ignored.
