September 12, 2004
Echo and Slingstone have a learning experience.
"So when are you going to tell your parents, cub?"
"I don't know," Echo answered slowly around her own tongue, which stuck out of her mouth as she concentrated. Her small fingers were secure around the strap in her hand as she swung the sling, feeling the reach of motion and the weight of the pebble in her wrist. One flick in the right time, and… "When I'm good enough so they won't tell me to stop, I think."
Slingstone's furrowed eyebrows rose a tad studying his unexpected student. He came down from the tree stump he was perching on to look more closely at the girl's pose and balance, nodding as, with a move becoming sleeker, she sent the stone soaring through the air.
The tonk of pebble hitting tree rang strangely loud in the small, isolated glade. Echo studied her handiwork - the crack in the bark, just a hint above the mark they set - with bright satisfaction in her cerulean eyes.
"Why do you say that?" Slingstone asked. He put another pebble into her hand instead of her leaning down to pick another from the pile, and she fixed it in the borrowed sling quickly, already sending the strap swishing again.
Echo wrinkled her small nose. The woosh of spinning strap as the pebble gained speed became more audible; blue orbs narrowed in a frown.
"Father almost skinned my ears when I tried a sword," she answered. Woosh - woosh - woosh. Her shoulders tensed and other hand closed tight, every muscle in her body speaking outmost focus. "Mother told him he was worrying too much but he didn't listen. He couldn't understand what was wrong with just my knife. He'd have fretted till he died so it's no use. I'll never have a sword."
Tonk!
Echo was being unusually talkative. The pebble went a bit too high this time, scaring some squirrels down from the tree.
Slingstone nodded. He understood.
"Try to release sooner next time," he remarked, putting another pebble into her hand. Echo opened and closed her fingers a few times, feeling the pull of ligaments in the exerted wrist that wasn't used to this sort of effort. "Why not a bow, then?"
The girl huffed. "Lionheart."
She didn't have to say more. Slingstone took her aching hand in his and rubbed the fingers gently, returning some of the blood to its proper flow. His other hand ruffled her hair a bit, before quickly changing it to tucking loose strands, slightly sweaty now after a hard night's practice, behind her ears. So she could see clearly and aim well. He knew about the teasing Lionheart piled on her whenever she lost another arrow.
He'd never taken this cub to be particularly vulnerable to barbed words, and it was a curious thing that she came to him and asked to be taught his unique skill. He watched the way her face changed as she swung the strap over her head and all her world narrowed down to her target. Was there perhaps a huntress, then, within quiet Echo?
"Slowly." He caught her arm. The pebble fell.
She looked up at him uneasily, uncertain if she should have stopped or not. Slingstone picked up the pebble and put it in the strap again. He swung it in two slow, sure circles, then released. The mark on the tree caved under the impact. Echo's eyes shone.
They were fixed on him as he turned, pleased, from his hit and to the cub who soaked up eagerly every gesture.
"Don't try too hard," he told her. "Slowly. Know the weapon. Release when it feels right."
Echo took the sling again. She nodded.
"And a spear?"
Her shoulders rose and fell. She started spinning the strap. One, two, three times. He could see minute changes in her muscles, in her stance, her face, as she measured every spin and moment for just the right one.
Crack. Almost. Getting there.
"I'll never be as good as Beechnut or Clover - why bother?"
Quickly she picked up another pebble.
Woosh. Slowly, surely, spinning.
"Echo."
Tonk! To the mark. She let her arm drop, breathing out, then in, a sunshine smile, yet one of feral triumph, drawing on her face.
"You know," Slingstone said quietly behind her, "that your father doesn't want you to take up any weapon. And Lionheart would only be harder on you if you choose this one."
Echo turned around to look at him. Brown eyes met blue for an instant in which he wondered what she would say. Then she simply gave a brief nod, the bangs falling back into her eyes. Slingstone took his weapon back; stroked her hair.
"And you know that it would be many, many seasons before you're as good as I am," he very softly added.
It felt strange to speak so much, and so openly. It wasn't his habit - as neither was it Echo's. Suddenly he was aware of a closeness that was not there before, born when she came to him, and asked to be taught.
She nodded again, still not speaking.
Slingstone was at a loss.
"Then why insist on this?" he finally asked.
Surprising him, Echo smiled.
"Because this I like," she answered cheerfully, and picked up another pebble.