21st of Spring, 514 AV
Dragoon Training Grounds
If she were sitting, she would have been on the edge of said seat, but she wasn’t. She was standing on aching feet, watching as her master was teaching her how to fight. One of the techniques he was planning on teaching her next included what he said was a horse stance and a side kick.
Those terms weren’t corroborating in her mind at that time, but as she watched Mac show her how to do what he had described, the words clicked together. Like a puzzle, the pieces connected and she finally saw the whole picture.
She followed what she saw, spreading her legs out so that they were farther than shoulder width apart. She straightened her feet so that they were pointing forward. ‘Better for balance,’ he had said.
She breathed in deeply, hoisting her hands up. Her left hand throbbed a little. Her pulse was quick, yet mellow. She was getting what she paid for and that was all that mattered to her.
“That looks good,” Mac mused, more to himself than actually praising the woman he was teaching. She didn’t mind though. This was her time, this was her day, it was her money that got her here in the first place and she was going to take it.
“Now I want you to kick it.”
So Lenz kicked it. She brought up the leg that was closest to the dummy, which so happened to be her left one and struck it, losing her balance and almost falling over. She saved herself in the nick of time, though.
“What was that?” Mac’s voice blurted.
“I thought you told me to kick it,” Lenz stuttered, biting her lip. Instantly, pain radiated through her teeth and up into her nose. She blinked back tears from the attack.
“I did, but not like that,” he retorted.
“You didn’t specify how I was supposed to kick it,” she countered, eyeing him with vast amounts of skepticism. Her statement, standing relatively high was valid, for he hadn’t said how she should have kicked it. He just sort of expected she would kick it how he expected she would.
The man muttered some words that weren’t audbile to her own ears. Paranoia soon settled into her heart. Was he insulting her? Was he dissing how she handled things the first time around?
“Try again,” he told her.
“But I don’t know how to do it correctly. You didn’t seem pleased,” she said, her tone of voice coming out almost like a whine.
“You’re right. I didn’t,” he said, stroking his chin. His eyes wavered over her body, still standing in that daft ‘horse stance’ position.
“Try it again,” he repeated, watching closely as if inspecting her for any particle of dust or debris. She felt violated, but she did as she was told.
She hunkered down into the stance, her knees bent to roughly ninety degrees, her feet facing forward so that they were parallel to her legs. She held up her hands and leant on her back leg, driving her front foot into the dummy. She lost her balance again.
Before her teacher could speak, she took her stance again and tried a different tactic. She pivoted on her front foot so that her back foot could swing around and strike the bag instead.
There was a chuckle from her right and as Lenz turned to see where it came from she was met with aspirated eyes, twinkling in the bright sunlight of the afternoon.
“That’s a way,” he said to her, smiling a little bit to reveal yellowed teeth. Probably from age, she thought. He must have been around fifty years old or so.
“But it isn’t the right way,” she stated.
“Right.”
“Which way is the right way?” the woman asked, brushing her hair behind her ears so that they weren’t in her face. She wished she would have put it up this morning before coming to learn how to fight correctly. Why hadn’t she thought of that then?
“I want you to find that out by yourself.”
“You’re making this very difficult for me when it doesn’t need to be. I paid you to teach me, not let me guess your riddles,” she dared, glaring at him with cold, hard green-brown eyes. They faltered when his own orbs glared back.
“Life is difficult, and from those cuts and bruises on your face I’d say you know that. Now, I want you to figure this out by yourself. There will be no one to teach you these things in the future unless you come back and pay me and pay me again everytime you do.”
He had a point that wasn’t easy to argue against. She understood that creativity in the mind helped ignite the powers of the imagination. She knew she could conjure up new techniques herself in times of desperation.
“What are you saying?” she asked, pleading latently for clarity.
“I’m saying you better keep on practicing until you find the right technique.”
This was not the response she was hoping for, but alas, it was one nonetheless. She took it without pouting. She was learning something. She was learning diligence, discipline and the art of taking care of yourself, all by the strange teachings of this ‘Mac guy’.
“Okay,” she said, proceeding to re-gather herself in the proper stance. At least she had that part done.
She took a large gulp of warm air, spring time flowing through her veins, and started again.
Dragoon Training Grounds
If she were sitting, she would have been on the edge of said seat, but she wasn’t. She was standing on aching feet, watching as her master was teaching her how to fight. One of the techniques he was planning on teaching her next included what he said was a horse stance and a side kick.
Those terms weren’t corroborating in her mind at that time, but as she watched Mac show her how to do what he had described, the words clicked together. Like a puzzle, the pieces connected and she finally saw the whole picture.
She followed what she saw, spreading her legs out so that they were farther than shoulder width apart. She straightened her feet so that they were pointing forward. ‘Better for balance,’ he had said.
She breathed in deeply, hoisting her hands up. Her left hand throbbed a little. Her pulse was quick, yet mellow. She was getting what she paid for and that was all that mattered to her.
“That looks good,” Mac mused, more to himself than actually praising the woman he was teaching. She didn’t mind though. This was her time, this was her day, it was her money that got her here in the first place and she was going to take it.
“Now I want you to kick it.”
So Lenz kicked it. She brought up the leg that was closest to the dummy, which so happened to be her left one and struck it, losing her balance and almost falling over. She saved herself in the nick of time, though.
“What was that?” Mac’s voice blurted.
“I thought you told me to kick it,” Lenz stuttered, biting her lip. Instantly, pain radiated through her teeth and up into her nose. She blinked back tears from the attack.
“I did, but not like that,” he retorted.
“You didn’t specify how I was supposed to kick it,” she countered, eyeing him with vast amounts of skepticism. Her statement, standing relatively high was valid, for he hadn’t said how she should have kicked it. He just sort of expected she would kick it how he expected she would.
The man muttered some words that weren’t audbile to her own ears. Paranoia soon settled into her heart. Was he insulting her? Was he dissing how she handled things the first time around?
“Try again,” he told her.
“But I don’t know how to do it correctly. You didn’t seem pleased,” she said, her tone of voice coming out almost like a whine.
“You’re right. I didn’t,” he said, stroking his chin. His eyes wavered over her body, still standing in that daft ‘horse stance’ position.
“Try it again,” he repeated, watching closely as if inspecting her for any particle of dust or debris. She felt violated, but she did as she was told.
She hunkered down into the stance, her knees bent to roughly ninety degrees, her feet facing forward so that they were parallel to her legs. She held up her hands and leant on her back leg, driving her front foot into the dummy. She lost her balance again.
Before her teacher could speak, she took her stance again and tried a different tactic. She pivoted on her front foot so that her back foot could swing around and strike the bag instead.
There was a chuckle from her right and as Lenz turned to see where it came from she was met with aspirated eyes, twinkling in the bright sunlight of the afternoon.
“That’s a way,” he said to her, smiling a little bit to reveal yellowed teeth. Probably from age, she thought. He must have been around fifty years old or so.
“But it isn’t the right way,” she stated.
“Right.”
“Which way is the right way?” the woman asked, brushing her hair behind her ears so that they weren’t in her face. She wished she would have put it up this morning before coming to learn how to fight correctly. Why hadn’t she thought of that then?
“I want you to find that out by yourself.”
“You’re making this very difficult for me when it doesn’t need to be. I paid you to teach me, not let me guess your riddles,” she dared, glaring at him with cold, hard green-brown eyes. They faltered when his own orbs glared back.
“Life is difficult, and from those cuts and bruises on your face I’d say you know that. Now, I want you to figure this out by yourself. There will be no one to teach you these things in the future unless you come back and pay me and pay me again everytime you do.”
He had a point that wasn’t easy to argue against. She understood that creativity in the mind helped ignite the powers of the imagination. She knew she could conjure up new techniques herself in times of desperation.
“What are you saying?” she asked, pleading latently for clarity.
“I’m saying you better keep on practicing until you find the right technique.”
This was not the response she was hoping for, but alas, it was one nonetheless. She took it without pouting. She was learning something. She was learning diligence, discipline and the art of taking care of yourself, all by the strange teachings of this ‘Mac guy’.
“Okay,” she said, proceeding to re-gather herself in the proper stance. At least she had that part done.
She took a large gulp of warm air, spring time flowing through her veins, and started again.
