As threatening as a kitten (Kovac)

[Rista]

55th of Summer, 511 AV

Getting out of bed had been a poor decision, she realized that. The head was spinning, her entire body was aching and she wasn't entirely sure whether it was the corridor or she that wobbled around. Her common sense told her that she was an idiot, but the stubborn parts of her mind refused to listen. She had things to do, vows to keep and people to meet, and nothing was going to stop her from doing it. Not even the fact that she only barely could stand straight, or that her left eye hadn't opened up completely yet... The enforced stillness was slowly driving Rista mad, and she couldn't stand staring at the walls of her room anymore. She had to do something. And that something, was going to be archery. She had promised Kovac to train hard, he had said he would keep an eye on her, and the memory of that understanding glance he had given her made the short girl reluctant to disappoint him.

She might have already though, she realized that. Two days ago she had been supposed to go to another lesson, but had been unable to go. The reason for it showed clearly on the girls face; a black eye decorated the left eye, her lips had been cut in two places from punches to the chin; across the belly she had visible bruises, and over the back and arms there were whip-like marks from a belt... The swelling was gone, as was the worst pain but the girl was still not at her full strength. Her vision was a bit poor and it hurt to move; as she hadn't seen a healer about either of the bruises she had no idea whether any of it was all that serious, but since she was still alive, it had to be okay, right? That a slight fever made her eyes glossy didn't matter; she had to go practice, and that was all there was to it.

The warrens leading to the Plucked Arrow seemed endless, and after conquering a set of stairs Rista had to stop and rest unless she wanted to fall down. She breathed carefully and leaned the back against the cool stone wall, holding her bow in a firm grip since she didn't want to drop it; the wooden frame felt strangely heavy, and things were spinning slowly... Yes, it probably had been a bad idea. But she couldn't turn back now; she was late already, and she didn't want to annoy the Avora so much that he wouldn't teach her anymore. This was her chance, her opportunity to rise to a safer place; things were slowly getting worse in the yasiry, and if she didn't get better at something quickly, she might end up dek even before her fifteenth birthday. Gods forbid...

It was that thought that made her move again, sorely pushing herself away from the wall to continue her slow walk through the warrens. This wasn't the time to be standing there dawdling, she had to go to practice. Rista didn't even notice that she turned the wrong way, so set on just following the corridor was she; the path she picked would only lead her on a long trip, before it finally ended in an unused room. Her mind wasn't clear enough to realize it; fever burned within, pain and shock from the injuries had yet to settle... Getting out of bed had not been a wise decision.

[Kovac]

With some hesitation, Kovac had gathered his quiver and bow and headed from the aeries into the warrens. Shayth's bed had been warm, especially with her still reclining in it. But both endal and avora had duties to attend, Kovac's being giving Rista another archery lesson. He had arrived at the Plucked Arrow, relatively on time. The yasi had stood him up for her lesson two days ago, which had displeased the archer. His time was not to be wasted. Rista had found favor with the half-blood hunter, the two sharing the affinity of mongrels among the ginger-headed full inarta. He had made a vow to himself to help the girl all that he could, but he wondered if she was as committed as she had appeared. Kovac had sent word to Rista through a drudge named Haya, a woman who was about as close to a friend as the snarky mongrel had. Haya reported back to the avora that Rista had received a sound whooping, a black eye, split lip and several bruises and stripes. Word of Rista's beating angered Kovac, whose first instinct was to storm down there and pummel her attackers. But the archer knew how things worked, and his chivalrous vengeance on Rista's behalf would only bring more persecution down on the mixed-blood. So he bit back his ire and let it slide. Kovac had given Rista a new lesson date within two days. Now, he waited again for the black-eyed teen once again. And again, she was late. If he had not known her last appointment was missed due to a beating, Kovac would have given up after her second missed lesson. But the girl showed so much promise, he had afforded her a measure of his scarce patience. Patience that was running thin. slinging his quiver over his shoulder and clutching his bow in his hand, Kovac stormed off to find the tardy yasi. Heading towards the youth section, he passed Haya in the hall, who indicated with a thin pointing finger the direction she had seen Rista take. The hallway lead away from the archery range. With a huff and a scowl, the avora headed down the corridor. Kovac's mood surprised even himself, had it been any other yasi, he would wave off the child and gone about his business. But he felt angry at Rista, that she would let him down, when he had invested in her, told her she could be something in spite of her heritage and her freaky black eyes. He wandered the long corridor, fuming. Finally, the avora found himself in an empty room at the end of a nearly abandoned hallway. There he found Rista. The girl was leaning against the stone wall. She was pale, her lips white, the black bruising around her eye still evident, as were the dark, scabbed cuts on her lips. In other words, the yasi looked like walking death. "Rista!" Kovac barked sharply, now as upset that she was out here alone in her condition as he was that she was missing. "You look like crap." His hand reached out to rest against her forehead. She was burning. "Gods girl you are fevered." Kovac saw the bow and quiver hanging in her weakened grasp. She had intended to meet him. He sighed. "Petch Rista, we need to get you somewhere where you can rest." The avora had no qualms about swearing in front of the youth. He wrapped his arm around her waist, slinging her bow and quiver over his own shoulder and lacing her arm around his neck. He did not want to take her back to the youth section, obviously they were not caring for her. It was a long distance to the aeries, and he was not sure how Shayth would receive a yasi on her quarters. Kovac had not yet given up his room in the Commons, and the Valintar had yet to force him to reassign it. Slowly, he began to lead Rista towards the Commons.

[Rista]

The empty room had surprised her, but only for a little while. It didn't take much process of thought to figure out that she has veered off somewhere, taken the wrong turn and finally ended up only gods knew where. By then her small reserve of energy had been pretty much drained however, and it took all her strength just to remain standing. The girl leaned her back tiredly against the wall, eyes closing to keep the room from spinning. This wasn't going the way she had planned. Rista had wanted to go to the training, she wanted to prove to the Avora that she wasn't a slacker; the fact that she had stood him up before still stung within, it was even harder to swallow than the fact that she had been beaten like this. The injuries and the pain was something she was used to. It wasn't the first time she had been given this kind of treatment, albeit the first time for it to be this serious, but when the girl said she would come to a place or do something, she never strayed from it. Never. Her stubbornness was too big for that, as was her pride in her ability to keep to her word. This... was humiliating.

The sound of footsteps startled her and with some effort she pried the lid of her undamaged eye open. Even the faint source of light in the abandoned room felt blinding, and it took some time before she recognized the person that appeared in the door. A faint splash of color passed over her cheeks, and Rista quickly looked down to the floor; why did it have to be Kovac? She hated the thought of anyone seeing her weak like this, because the marks on her face and body showed so clearly that she had lost, been defeated, was incapable of taking care of herself. She didn't want to be weak, and she didn't want anyone to know how vulnerable she really was. The little yasi flinched at the sharpness of the mans voice, taking the upset tone for the scolding she thought she deserved, and weakly tried to resist the hands that took her temperature and tried to guide her away.

"I'm fine" she tried to protest, grasping the bow and quiver tightly in her hand as not to drop them on the ground. "I don't need to rest, I need to practice. Don't have time to sleep around, there's not enough time left to waste on being ill.." Somehow it was impossible to resist the teacher as he took her bow away and led her through the corridors. The girl tried to keep her teeth from clattering as she walked; the fever made her face pale and the cheeks flushed, and while the grip around her back probably wasn't hard, the touch against her skin ached as if she'd been rolled in nettles. The mind was all over the place, the dark eyes visibly hazy and matte as she tried to make Kovac understand that she wasn't ill.

"This is nothing" she murmured and made a vague attempt to walk on her own. "No need for the Avora to take time from his schedule, not for someone like me. I can take care of myself, won't drag anyone down." Her mouth felt so dry, it hurt to talk. Yet for some reason she couldn't stop; words just flowed out of her, weak attempts to make him leave and go back to the ranges. She really wanted him to leave so she could relax and sink to the floor, let the legs give in on her.

And yet, at the same time... A small part of her wanted him to just ignore her words. Only rarely before had a grown person made time for her long enough to listen to her protests and then ignore them. It had been surprising and annoying, not to mention frustrating.. but also a bit nice. Not so much the ignoring, perhaps but the fact that they stayed and listened for a while. Of course she remembered Kovac's words about coming to him if she needed anything, but it wasn't something she could do just like that. No way she would bother him over just a few bruises, and certainly not if the result became something like this. Rista wasn't even clear over where exactly they were heading; some of the warrens they passed through looked familiar, but she felt so dizzy it was hard to know for sure. She thought she could recognize the shape of a door before her after a while, but aside from stopping and remaining on her feet, she couldn't quite make out what to do with it. You couldn't pass through a closed door, after all.

[Kovac]

Rista's attempts to resist his aid were futile, the girl weakened by fever. Kovac held to her firmly, bearing as much of her weight as she would allow. Slowly he lead her through the warrens. Though her voice was small and strained, the yasi continued her pathetic monologue. "For gods' sake Rista shut your pie hole." He admonished. "I decide what I want to do, and what you need." His hand clasped around the girls hand draped around his neck. Kovac could feel the heat of the fever on her skin. He lifted her slightly, taking more of her own weight off of her unsteady legs. They arrived at his old room, and the avora flung open the door. The space was bare, having moved most of his belongings to Shayth's aerie. The bed remained, with a mattress. Carefully Kovac lowered Rista onto the bed. He tugged off her boots. Footwear in bed was a pet peeve of his. She was chilled, as he noted on the way there, her body was periodically wracked with shivers. Looking around, there was nothing left but a low stool, a side table and the pitcher and basin. The teen would need a blanket and water. Taking the pitcher, Kovac stepped back out into the hallway. Making a left and turning a corner, the avora ran into two dek, a short man and a girl, carrying a small barrel. He seized the girl by the shoulder and snapped at the man. "You can carry that yourself." As the male drudge clambered off with the barrel, Kovac instructed the red-headed girl. "Take this pitcher and fill it with water, and stop by the Dreaming Lady and tell Chemar Tisserand that Kovac needs a blanket, its an emergency. Bring them back to the first door on the right around this corner. Now go and hurry up." Smacking the Dek on the backside, Kovac returned to the vacant room. He stood over the bed, looking down at the one completely black opened eye of the half Chaktawe girl. "Seriously...you were going to come to practice in this condition?" He gave her a lopsided grin. "Maybe I was right about you after all, you are tenacious, if not a bit daft." He lowered himself to the bed, sitting on the edge. He examined the youth's eye, still puffy and swollen. Her lip still bore healing cracks, and her midriff showed signs of a beating. He sighed, brushing a thick, dark dreadlock from her face. If Kovac had a heart, it would have been broken for the girl. "Kid, shyke like this is going to happen, I am sure you know that by now. They can knock you down, beat you black and blue, but they can never take who you are. Don't let them break you." After a short while, a soft knock was heard at the door, and Kovac rose to answer it. The dek had returned with the pitcher and a green blanket. He owed Chemar for the favor. He grinned, wondering what he would have to do to repay her. "Return here tonight," he commented to the Dek, "the room will be open and you can sleep here. Now beat it." Setting the pitcher down on the table with the basin, Kovac returned to the bed with the blanket, spreading it out over Rista. Returning to the side table, Kovac cursed. No cup. He leaned down and tore a strip from the hem of one of the legs of his bryda. Pouring some of the water into the basin, he dipped the cloth strip in the water and wrung it out. Then, taking it and the pitcher, he appeared again at the bed. The mongrel laid the cool, damp cloth over Rista's forehead, then worked his hand under her back, coaxing her to sit up. "Come on, you need to drink." Once she was sitting up, the archer lifted the lip of the pitcher to the girl's lips and gently tipped it until the water reached the edge for her to drink. "Why didn't you go to the Infirmary, or ask for help. You could have ended up dead."

[Rista]

She felt a little offended by how easily he dismissed her attempts to state her independence, but none the less the girl pressed her lips tightly together during the rest of the walk. It was an order, right? Orders she would obey, it was after all the only thing she really excelled at. She'd make an amazing dek, no doubt, and with the way things were going she would become one. If she couldn't practice she couldn't get better, and if she couldn't get better then there would be no use for her anywhere. What was it the old gatekeeper had said before, about wasting the gifts she had been given... No, she couldn't remember. It had been a really impressive scolding, and Rista was a little sad that she couldn't recall it. Val had been trying to talk her into something, and then he had tried to convince her of something else..

Her thoughts really made no sense at all, even the stubborn little yasi realized that. It was a bit frightening how whimsical she was becoming. The head went round and round, she couldn't really recall how they had passed through the door. The feeling of the bed under her back was sudden and pleasant beyond belief, and it was with a sigh of gratitude she closed her eyes, lifting her arm to cover the sore eyes. She listened to steps leaving and felt the emptiness of the room as Kovac left; was that it? He just took her to some random room and then left her to fend for herself, like always. It was good, splendid even; if he turned out like all the rest, she wouldn't have to start trusting in him. She wouldn't have to get disappointed when her illusions failed, there would be no need to feel lonely because someone had been there and then left again.

Was it disappointment she felt when the sound of footsteps neared once more and her teacher came back? Or was it relief. She couldn't really tell, because when she opened her functional eye and tried to look at him, the world spun so much that for a second, she could have sworn that the mongrel man was hanging in his feet from the room. It took serious effort to gather herself enough to listen to what he said; the words made her grimace and snort. Tenacity alone had never gotten a person anywhere. There was a need of people to impress as well, and at least some amount of hidden talent to be coaxed out. Rista didn't think she had that kind of talent, the only thing that kept her from giving up was a stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

The bed shifted as he sat down beside her. She endured the examination of the face quietly, trying to ignore the discomfort the touch to the sore areas brought her; while they were healing, two days weren't really enough to do more than ease the pain a bit. She still couldn't see much on the left eye, and moving around was something she only did reluctantly... When it wasn't going to get in the way of practice.

"Do I look like I'm about to give up and let them win?" she asked quietly and looked up at Kovac, the face serious beneath all the bruises. "If I planned to give them right about anything, I would have admit defeat a long time ago. Take away who I am? That's.." She interrupted herself as the dek came in, and used the distraction of the third person to stop herself from talking. How could they take away who she was when she wasn't even sure of that herself? It was hard to feel one person inside and see another when she looked in the mirror. She was half, divided and incomplete; it was the feeling she got, and it made it hard to remain true to herself. Who was she, really? But Kovac didn't need to know that, if he couldn't see it for himself. It wasn't something that anyone needed to know about; a weak spot like that was to be kept to herself, hidden and guarded. She wasn't doing a very good job.

The blanket and the water were welcome distractions from the revealing thoughts, and Rista received them gratefully. She didn't like looking too deep into herself, she really didn't like the imperfections she saw. Doubt, helplessness, weakness... Those weren't things she wanted to have, and every chance she got to forget about them were taken. The water was cool as it ran down her sore throat, felt almost cold and as she leaned back onto the bed again she shuddered a bit, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulder.

"I've been running in and out of the infirmary since I was a kid" she mumbled and closed her eyes again, thankful for the peaceful darkness. "I've collected more of a debt in that place than I can ever repay, and they should have been more than tired of seeing my face by now. I don't have any broken bones and no inner pains.. it's just bruises, why would I have to go to the healers? They have more important things to do than patching up pit-fight yasi." It was straining to talk, but not answering to the questions didn't even occur to her. It couldn't be helped that every word revealed her lack of belief in her own worth, she didn't have the energy to rephrase her thoughts before letting them fall off the tongue.

His concern was puzzling to her. Wasn't he mad, like he had sounded back in that dead-end room? She had seriously thought that he would scold her once they got to the destination, wherever it was, and she was still waiting for it to come. Some accusation about not coming to practice, about loosing the fight, about letting herself get fooled into a situation where she couldn't win... That he couldn't know about the circumstances of her beating didn't occur to her, Rista thought that everyone surely knew about her disgrace. It was laughable really. First she claimed herself to be rejected and left out, outcast almost, and then she fully believed that all the other persons in the Reach would keep track of her victories and her shame. Such arrogance of youth...

[Kovac]

Rista was resilient. Kovac had gathered that she was physically sound at their first meeting at the range. Hers was a broad shouldered, sturdy, muscled body that was not scrawny and developed curves early. He knew next to nothing about Chaktawe, other than they survived in the harsh desert. It seemed the yasi had inherited a sturdy constitution and strong form from both sides of her family. But as Rista lay in the bed, beaten black and blue, there was defiance in her voice. Defiance of those that beat her, and of Kovac himself. It pleased the avora. She would need that backbone to make a place for herself in the rigid castes of Inarta society. "Scrapping is alright. Its part of growing up in Wind Reach. As long as you get your strikes in too. Make them remember who you are." Others may not have advised a youth to fight. But Kovac knew it was a way of life there, and even if she did not look for them, fights would come to her. Kovac idly fiddled with one of the long thing braids in Rista's hair. "But we can't have you missing lessons because you have been pummeled. Choose your fights wisely." Kovac looked down at his bare chest, examining the knife scars that he could have avoided if he had learned to tame his tongue as a yasi. He smiled slightly, knowing that speaking his mind was unavoidable, for he liked little less than having to watch his mouth. His green gaze returned to the weary, one-eyed glance of the half-bred girl. She was tired, weak, and he could see her strain to remain engaged in the conversation. "You need rest if you are going to recover. You will stay here for the night, until your fever breaks, I will let them know you are here. Then you can return home. The drudge should be back later to sleep here, if you need anything, make her get it for you. Otherwise, day after tomorrow, I want you to meet me at the Bent Arrow after morning meal." His tone was mostly void of emotion, but the hand that slipped to her crown in an awkard pat betrayed Kovac's concern for the girl. Begrudgingly, Kovac admitted to himself a fondness for the girl. She was unique, though he knew the yasi did not yet see any positive in that status. She had potential, and deserved a fair chance to succeed. The avora was intent on making sure she had that chance. Giving her another drink from the pitcher, Kovac rose from the bed and headed for the door. Turning back he added. "Get some sleep Rista Black-eyes." He would stick his head in the door several times that day, making sure she had water, sending a dek in with some food. The next morning, he returned to find the bed empty. Now...to see if she kept their appointment.

[Rista]

Was she surprised that he didn't condemn her tendency to get into fights? Perhaps a little. Most of all she was astonished by the fact that he didn't blame her for losing, but rather giving the advice that he did. The girl nodded thoughtfully, eying the man with her sense of respect for him once again growing. Many adults would have tried to step in and sort things up for her, or on the other hand tried to turn a blind eye, pretending that they didn't see what was going on. This man... Rista got the impression that he knew exactly what she was going through, and she appreciated how he simply advised her without trying to judge. His reasons for doing what he did, helping her like this, could wait until some other time. She could decide later whether she wanted to place her trust in the man or not; right now, the hand on her head and the order to get some rest gave her all she needed in form of comfort and reassurance. She wasn't entirely alone, at least.

"Thank you" the girl mumbled awkwardly, her eyes closing almost on their own once Kovac stood up from the bed. They cracked open briefly again though, to look at him when he called her name.. Why did that surname sound so familiar? A memory tried to pull free from her feverish mind, wanted to flow up to the surface; the image of a face flickered before her inner vision for a moment before it vanished again; a womans face, smiling as she held out a hand full of strawberries. Who was she? And why.. why was that word ringing in her ears even after the Avora was gone and her mind slowly drifting off to sleep? Her restless dreams didn't giver her any answers.

The fever broke sometime during the night, and it was with careful movements that the girl gathered up her things and stepped over the sleeping dek on her way out of the room. Kovac had told her to stay for the night, but how was she supposed to be able to sleep any more when her brain was clear and the body longing for movement? Rista hated to stay still, and she disliked even more to be left without something to do. She moved much easier now, the left eye was even able to open a little - the vision was tinted in red and rather blurry, but so what? She could see! And she only had one day before the next lesson with the Avora, she had to get some practice done before that. Stopping by her room only to collect a few more arrows for the quiver, the girl then padded silently through the nightly warrens, sneaking down to the ranges that lay quiet and unused this late at night. This wasn't the time to adhere to rules about opening hours; it wasn't even the first time the girl made use of the quiet of night to practice. While the darkness made her uneasy, the solitude gave her the peace of mind she needed to relax and take her time.

Safe to say, her attempts at practicing stealthily didn't go very well. No more than an hour later she had to give up, succumbing to the ache in her sore stomach muscles and the poor aim her decreased field of vision gave her. There was lack of depth perception, and then there was this. She was honestly glad that she had one more day to recover, because this was plain silly. Discontent the girl made her way back to the room and spent the following day and night in impatience. She even went so far as to start cleaning her room; or at least her own equivalent, which meant gathering everything up from the floor and tossing it down into the chest by the foot of the bed. In her attempts to clear the floor she came across the papers she had received from the gatekeeper with the phonetic sounds for various words for food and every day items in Tawna, and halted her frustrated rampage. At the very least, studying was better than to turn her belongings upside down, even if it left her sitting still more than she would want to. Mumbling to herself, the girl sunk down on the bed with the eyes following the lines on the piece of parchment, trying to get her tongue around the unfamiliar sounds of the Chaktawe language...

It was with a great sense of relief the short yasi girl returned to her normal routines. Ignoring the stares and whispers of the other youngsters at breakfast, she focused on the food and the prospect of getting to return to practice again. Her attempts at studying had resulted in outbursts of frustration, objects had been sent flying until one almost had knocked over the bottle of ointment she had received from Eoin several days ago; she had felt a bit stupid when she sat with the glass flask in her hand, realizing that she could have treated herself a long time ago and probably felt much better. Almost guiltily she had applied some of the yellow liquid to the swelling of her eye and the bruising of the stomach, the parts that bothered her the most; she had been chary with the precious fluid and made sure not to take too much, afraid that it would run out on her. It was a precious gift, she couldn't waste it by taking too much.

Much thanks to it though, Rista was now able to open the eye much better and she felt almost like new again. A little stiffness could be worked away, and so it was with anticipation the girl returned to the archery range, bow and quiver in hand; an expectant smile lingered over her lips, she was looking forward to this lesson. It had been postponed for way too long, and she wondered how Kovac could have so much patience. Was it something that came as people grew up, or was it a virtue you got from birth? Rista sure didn't have any, she was wearing herself out with how slowly she had been recovering. Today's lessons would probably show to which extent she was okay; the failure of the night before was still fresh in memory, and she prayed silently to Syna to grant her some more clarity of sight, just a little, tiny bit...

[Kovac]

The day had dawned, or one could only assume by the minimal amount of light that penetrated the thick blanket of low-lying clouds hovering over Mount Skyinarta. A drizzle, more of a mist, permeated the air, clinging to one's skin rather than falling upon it. It was the kind of day that begged you to sleep in. Which is what Kovac had intended to do. Curled up on the cushions that comprised Shayth's bed, the avora pretended not to hear the rider as she dressed and prepared for her tasks. A swift kick to his arse with a booted foot brought him to sudden wakefulness. "Petch Shayth!" He exclaimed, hearing the woman giggle behind him. "Get up you lazy ass." She retorted, "Don't you have to teach that black-eyed brat today?" The hunter rolled off of the bedding onto the rugged floor and struggled to his feet. "Yes, I do. And don't call her a brat, she is my student." "Well, just watch what you teach her...she is still a child." She chided, her tone indicating that she would not put something so inappropriate past her the roguish avora. He grinned at her. "Jealousy looks so hot on you." He retorted with a twisted grin. Shayth broke into a laugh and kicked him in the rear again. "Get out of here you cur. Remember whose collar you wear!" Half a bell later, Kovac was heading out to the Sanikas range with a full belly and his archery gear. Climbing the narrow trail to the plateau housing the Bent Arrow range, Kovac took a position at the left side. The weather certainly discouraged archers from using the outdoor range, and the avora was able to secure a section at a comfortable distance from other archers. He saw no sign of Rista. When he had returned to his room to check on her, she had left, the drudge still asleep on the floor. He assumed she had recovered enough to meet him for another lesson. The practice arrows rattled in his quiver as he set it aside, drawing one out. Setting the shaft to the string of his short bow, Kovac raised it as he drew the arrow back. He shook the moisture from his head, then lined the practice point up with the target at the end of the lane. His fingers flexed, releasing the string and sending the arrow streaking towards the target. It landing with a thunk as it pierced the canvas target in the ring outside the bullseye. Slowly lowering the bow, Kovac turned to scan the rock outcropping for signs of Rista.

[Rista]

It would have been wiser to pray for a bit of better hearing. Or at least a clear memory of the day before the previous one, when she had been almost delirious from fever. Rista had thought herself to be quite on time and had strolled into the Fletcher's Corner with a smile on her face, eager to catch sight of her teacher and begin the lesson. But not only did she not see him at all, when chimes slowly passed and none but yasi and other adults entered the range she began to feel uneasy. Had Kovac decided that he wouldn't teach her after all? Had he noticed that she disobeyed him by sneaking out of bed earlier than he had said and walked down to the ranges in the middle of the night, to practice unsupervised? It did seem a little petty even to her, but one never knew. When it came down to it, she didn't know first thing about the mongrel man and his temper, aside from that his smile was reassuring and his hand calming when he placed it on her head. It wasn't much to base knowledge on, and even less to encourage trust.

After enduring another ten chimes, the face of the girl was pale and her eyes wild as she stared around her, jumping at the slightest sound of footsteps by the entrance. Several of the yasi smirked as they saw her, convinced that she had been stood up on by the half-breed man. Served her right, she heard someone whisper as they passed. For showing up like that, all bruised and smiling.. She should just accept it. Someone snickered out loud and the girl spun around, her knuckles whitening as the grasp around the bow tightened and her temper flared up, the dark eyes glowing dangerously as she moved towards the closest group of yasi. She would.. She wouldn't let them..! They had no right and she would make them pay fo...

'Choose your fights.'

The memory of the words pierced through her growing anger, and just in time the veil of red that had begun to close around her disappeared. She had barely healed. Even now she was still sore and moved slowly, just barely fit enough to practice and expect some kind of result. She'd loose again if she fought, and this time she might not be lucky enough to survive. Rista took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second and tried to recall what else Kovac had said. Rest, stay in the bed, talk about the drudge. It was all a little foggy, she had been so tired and out of it from the fever, some parts were blurry or completely blank. She were to meet him, eat breakfast and then meet him at.. at..

A sheepish expression slowly spread over the face of the girl, and her stomach felt like it would drop down into her feet as she remembered. The Bent Arrow. It wasn't Kovac that was late, it was she that was in the wrong place; and growing late now, to make things worse. Blood rushed back into her head and face all too rapidly, and with a curse that made a passing dek raise an eyebrow in shocked amusement the dark-haired yasi spun around, grasped the quiver tightly as not to drop the arrows... And then she ran. As fast as she could, using every shortcut and narrow passage she could recall that would make the distance shorter. She almost ran people down, having to spin around and make beelines around groups of busy Chiet and Dek; one time she almost ended up in the arms of a very surprised Endal before she managed to slip out of the way. Rista didn't stick around to hear her curses to end. She was in a hurry.

Please don't let him give up, don't let him leave, please make it so that I get there in time, don't screw this up for me more than I've already done myself! With the heart ponding in her ears and the breath tearing at the throat, Rista hurried along the corridors, jumped impatiently as the lift up to the Gate took way too long for her. She rushed by the old gatekeeper with little more than a quick 'Good Morning'! as greeting, and hoped he wouldn't take offense. It felt like her life depended on whether she made it to the Range in time... And perhaps it did. In a way, her studying under Kovac could very well be the light at the end of the tunnel for her, the guiding light towards she would have to walk if she wanted any kind of life in Wind Reach at all. Being cast down as drudge couldn't be called living...

She took the slippery, narrow trail towards the Bent Arrow at double pace, sometimes slipping dangerously on the rocks that had been moistened by the rain. She was so close now, and she hadn't met the man on the way; hopefully he would still be there. She'd face his anger if necessary, she would do anything at all to apologize for being late once again. His patience must be running out by now. Anyone would have tired, being stood up on, not getting a heads up, no news at all before it came by way of rumor what had happened. The dark-haired hunter had been generous as it was, and with this... None the less, she'd do whatever she had to do to make him teach her. It was the only thought that had room in her mind as she emerged on the Range, breathing hard and eyes filled with a desperate hope that he would still be there. No matter what it took, no matter what he demanded from her...

[Kovac]

With a hiss and a thud, the arrow cut through the heavy, moist air to sink into the target, just a hair off dead center. It quivered rapidly for a moment before coming to rest, the twelfth shaft to protrude from the target. She was late. Kovac sighed. There were a myriad of legitimate reasons Rista could be late. Of them all, he believed the least likely was that she did not want to be there. He still had faith in her and her potential, having seen the tenacity of her just a couple days ago. He ran his thumb and forefinger down the bowstring, shedding the moisture that accumulated along its length. He wondered if she had taken a turn for the worse, and was unable to make it up the long trail to the range. Maybe she had been beaten again, or accosted by another adult for some task or lesson. He drew an arrow from his quiver, idly setting the notch at its end to the string. If he were to train her, he would need more of her attention. His eyes darted up, but focused on nothing as a thought came to him. Bendi. He needed to have her assigned to him for some bendi. Maybe he would look into it. But, first, she needed to show up. A familiar, small, dark-headed figure appeared over the end of the range. Kovac recognized Rista, but did not acknowledge her. Instead, he raised the bow, drawing the string back. He remained in his position until, from the corner of his eye, he saw the yasi approach. Still holding the arrow poised to release, the avora spoke in an even tone. "You are late. again." His fingers twitched, the string snapped forward and arrow thirteen was launched at the target. "Go fetch my arrows."