Bolden stood dumbfounded at the slight movement with its vast effect. He stared at Matthial as if he had two heads.
"How? What?" He tried to ask but couldn't even form a proper question.
When Matthial asked that question, the young Denusk was unsure of how to answer.
A memory ripped through his mind with startling clarity and his eyes took on a faraway look.
' "Damnit Bold you can't just act like a zibri's arse every time there's a family function! Be a man for once!"
"Yea like you're mister perfect! You lose you petching temper every single time I breathe in your direction! I petching HATE yo--"
The older Denusk and younger one went at each other like angry colts fighting for status in a bachelor herd. With bared teeth and angry shouts, they pummeled each other bloody at the start or finish of every conversation they'd ever had. Rage filled Bold as the golden haired man pinned both of the boy's arm easily with a well placed knee on the chest and a clever hand to twist Bold's ankle. He was well and truly trussed, like a bird ready for plucking.
"If you just grew up and acted your age for once, I wouldn't have to keep beating some sense into your thick stupid head! Stop embarrassing the family with your idiot antics!"
If there was one thing that pushed the boy's buttons, it was being called stupid--and the blond haired man knew this.
Instead of fighting the twisted ankle held tightly, he moved into it, rolling his hips to throw the man face first into the dirt. He shifted to his knees, jerked to his feet and stood abruptly.
"I hate you you petching piece of shyke!" Bold said with venom, spitting the blood from his mouth.
The older man smiled slightly with his head to the side.
'Bold now knows enough about combat to keep himself safe. He may hate me, but by the Goddess, he'll be all the stronger for it.' Vanator thought. '
His eyes darkened and clouded over as he tore himself from such a strong memory. He wasn't so sure he wanted to remember so much...
"I honestly don't remember if I have any formal training, but my patchy memory lets me know I have a modest knowledge of brawling and fist fighting. I'm sure if we work with it, I'll remember more as we go along."
He tried earnestly to sound positive, but his tone fell flat.
The young man tried not to be ashamed, but admitting he had no memory of warrior training was excruciating to admit--even to himself. He sucked it up and stayed honest and true to his upper class raising.
"I had a head injury a while back, and I'm only just now recalling things."
It was yet another of one of the many times he wished he could crawl under something and unsay what he'd just said.
'Just another zibri's arse with no formal education in anything.' Bolden thought with humiliation.
Nightwind's neigh rung out from across the field, reassuring the Denusk that he always had a friend. It was one of the few times where the Strider's presence only worsened the feelings of inadequacy.
Bold brought his gaze back to Matthial's face, desperately hoping he didn't just screw up his only chance of real learning in six years. He was so hungry to learn and it seemed like an eternity since the last time he'd had a lesson in anything. But then again, six years always seems like eternity when you're a prideful, eighteen year old Drykas.