When Red delivered the killing blow to the crocodile something in him stirred. He felt for a moment some kinship with the true fighters of the group. As if a small flame that had been growing within him caught a gust of wind.
Each morning he would rise, eschew his studies and join Rask and Ca’armine for morning training. The work was hard, and Red gained many bruises. Each day seeing small gains in how he held himself, how the weapons felt more like an extension of him.
After the fight training Red would then lead his own lesson in swimming. The cold water felt good, washing away the sweat, calming the wounds. Swimming made Red miss his home and the pools he helped build, and swam in, in Aigier. Aigier seems like such a distant memory now. Home but yet not as familiar as it once was.
As the days wore on Red finally was able to learn some new skills from the fighters. The path of a hero was visible about before him. But that changed…
An off hand comment from Alexis about Ezrin struck Red to the core. The memory of the last time he saw Ezrin laying on the ground, a lump. Could Red have picked up Ezrin and carried him out? Maybe. What would be different now if he had rescued the best magic teacher he has known.
When Red returned to his bed that night he takes up the scrolls, that all seem to echo with Ezrin’s voice in his ears. That night be does not sleep, does not rise to train. He turns his focus from the physical, to the material.