Chapter twenty
“Grabhim!”Branshouted,barreling past Taren as their target bolted up a tall tree.
Taren shook himself, glaring at the wild red-headed boy. “Now look what you’ve done. It’s going to be ten times harder to get him.”
Both boys were a mess, covered in scratches, their loose, cream-colored tunics stained with dirt and torn from the relentless chase.
“What are we going to do now?” Elara exhaled, sinking to the ground with an exaggerated flop. Her headband, embroidered with the Ember Reach phoenix, slipped slightly down her forehead, but she didn’t bother to adjust it, too tired from the struggle. “We’ve been chasing this cursed cat for two hours, and I swear it’s just toying with us at this point.”
Rynna glanced off to her right, where, as usual, their Unit Leader stood quietly, his nose buried in one of the notebooks he always carried. She was burning to know what could possibly hold his attention for so long, day after day, but he always managed to hide the contents whenever she got close enough to sneak a peek.
And it’s not like he talks to you any more than absolutely necessary, anyway, she thought to herself.
A hiss from the tree snapped Rynna’s attention back just in time to see Bran winding up to throw a rock at the smug animal.
“Whoa!” She stepped in front of him, hands outstretched. “Let’s not resort to violence just yet. We’re supposed to bring him back in good condition.”
“Tell that to him!” Bran tried to dart around her, but she moved swiftly, blocking his path with ease.
He huffed in frustration. “Come on, Rynna! Let’s just finish this. I’m tired of these bullcrap missions anyway.”
Elara and Taren, both covered in scratches, mumbled their agreement as they moved to stand beside Bran.
“We’re ready for a real assignment!” he declared, bolstered by their support.
“Not if you have to resort to rock-throwing and damaging your target to finish this one, you’re not.” The hairs on the back of Rynna’s neck stood on end as Fenn’s voice drifted from behind her, suddenly closer.
“I don’t suppose you have any sage advice, Guide?” she asked, sarcasm seeping into her words as she kept her back to him.
Like the others, she was fed up with the months of low-difficulty missions around the nearby villages. Catching lost animals, tracking down missing goods, and harvesting the orchards. And then there was him, constantly there, frustrating her just by existing, not to mention the other kind of frustration she couldn’t quite shake.
As usual, he ignored her.
“Fine.” Rynna pinched the bridge of her nose, glancing at the others who watched her expectantly. The answer was obvious, and the situation practically begged for it.
It was the perfect opportunity to introduce them to more animal-based martial arts.She could show them how to observe and imitate the cat's movements—its grace, its agility, its style. The fat, furry beast was surprisingly formidable and would be a good teacher.
She’d done this a few times now, leveraging her supposed foreign upbringing to introduce new concepts into their training. Nothing flashy, just basic principles that had somehow been forgotten once Source power entered the world and its manipulation became the primary focus of Hollow-born combat. Even their physical forms relied heavily on the Source to enhance speed and strength.
“Fine,” she repeated, straightening up. “Okay, so why can’t we catch the cat?”
The group looked at her blankly. Even Fenn glanced up from his notes, mildly curious.
“He’s faster,” Elara offered after a moment. “And agile.”
“He can also climb trees,” Taren muttered, dabbing at a scratch on his arm with his sleeve.
“And has claws,” Bran added, scuffing the ground with his foot.
“Yes, exactly!” Rynna smiled, pulling out two small throwing knives, their hilts wrapped in rough cloth for better grip. “So why can’t we be faster, more agile, or climb trees? And it’s not like we don’t have our own claws.” She twirled the knives playfully before winking at them. “Plus, there are four of us and one of him. This should be easy.”
“How?” Taren asked, recognizing the change in her tone. He was always sharp like that, quick to pick up on teaching moments, no matter how subtly she tried to slip them in.
“Well, we can’t be a cat, but can we move like one?” she asked.
“Like a cat?” Bran scratched his head, clearly confused.
“Yeah! Watch me.” Rynna dropped into a low crouch, her knees bent, her weight distributed evenly as she moved silently, almost gliding across the ground. “Cats are fast and graceful, relying on balance and precision. Stay low, keep your center stable, and move from your core. Follow me.”
