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BIC| Faster, OakHeart snapped, and the small filly flattened her ears as the tendrils of plants ripped at her hooves.
If I go any faster you would not be able to keep up, AuraSidra snarled, and kicked her trot into a gallop.
She was almost right; he couldn't keep up, not at first, couldn't make the plants grow fast enough to grip her as she ran by. It was hard to get the timing right, hard to know exactly where her hooves would land.
But there was a rhythm to her gait; there always was. It didn't take him too many strides to find the right formula. No sooner had she begun to smirk than she found herself ripping at vines almost as thick as her legs.
Your timing is off, she grunted, switching the pace of her gallop into something with a longer stride that almost hopped. Leave room for adjustments!
He couldn't, though; every time he found her rhythm, she would settle into a new one. Each time she shifted her gait he floundered, had to start again to capture her legs.
They were both sweating, both shaking with effort, and neither of them wanted to call for break. Eventually, OakHeart huffed out a breath and flopped into the soft grass, bowing to her greater willpower; she would collapse where she stood before she asked for a rest. Enough, he grunted, and let the plants ease back into their natural state, motioning for her to come closer as he summoned a small pool of clear water. I would prefer not to have either of us faint in efforts to outlast one another.
Her legs may have been slightly wobbly, but it was no worse than the training she had endured with Eternal or Caustic. I could keep going, she insisted, but even so she drank deep of the water he had summoned. Can you bring something that you won't have to maintain?
Showoff, he thought sourly, but only said I could make a maze of obstacles, but you need to cool yourself first.
Stubborn, she thought, and narrowed her eyes. Because when I use this later everyone will be certain to give me time to cool off, she said coldly, and watched the temper flare in his eyes before the ground hurled her through the air.
She flapped, her not-quite-grown wings still efficient enough to right her balance before landing in the middle of a twisted layout.
Have fun, he said dismissively, and the sound of splashing came to her through the tangled bark that crawled with thorns.
That wouldn't matter to her. She had trained with Thorn, too. He'd shown her how to handle painful terrain.
You'll have to do better than that, she challenged, and started climbing over a vine-coated log to get a better look around. The Lady taught me how to think, Death taught me about pain, and my Knight has shown me how to maneuver.
What about the Ghost? OakHeart asked, lifting his head with surprise as he saw her already making a direct line for him. What does he teach?
Nothing, yet, she huffed, and he smiled at the miffed tone she used. He said his lessons would be for when I was older and left.
Silence stretched. OakHeart was older, fully grown where she was still fun-sized, and yet she got to boss him around. He was an elemental, controlled nature itself, and yet the sheer magnitude of her personality gave her the ability to tell him when to run. He'd taken issue with it; old enough to be insulted by the status quo now, although he had been given the same treatment based on his heart when he'd been but her size. It was somehow fine that his smaller size be disregarded while insulting that he had to do the same for her.
That was why they were here, why he gripped at her, forced her to strengthen her legs, her back. If they insisted on fighting then their bonded would insist that they work together, train together, and return with peace. Which of course meant that they had better stay gone until they worked things out.
But they weren't the only ones that had been sent out.
Where is the Hermit, anyway? he asked, finally breaking into their sulking thoughts. He's the only one that hasn't been sent away.
He's also the least irritating, out of the top Guardians, AuraSidra countered as she landed in front of his nose. He jumped, not having realized she was so close, and glared as she laughed. He won't kill anyone unless they're trying to hurt me, she added with such innocent confidence that he was forcibly reminded once again that he was following a filly's lead.
What would you know, he grumped, and shot a webwork of grass over her back, slamming her to the ground.
She pulled at first - instinctive response - and then he was tilting his head, watching her with interest as she shifted almost instantly from a general effort to raise up to a more intentional effect on those braided strands of grass around her shoulders. She bit as she pushed with her front legs, even as she dug her back half in the ground. OakHeart was having trouble keeping up with the speed they were snapping apart - either from her teeth or from the bulk of her strength being pushed through the delicate roots.
It wasn't until he managed to get hold of her face, as well, and pull her nose down to the soft earth that he could claim victory. Not bad, he said, instantly releasing her once she stopped yanking against his plants, localized effort was almost effective.
I have to watch for anyone trying to control my head, though, she admitted, and shook off hard, sending fragments of greenery flying everywhere. And I know that something is happening, the same as you do, and that the main ones at home right now aren't anyone that I would worry about causing trouble.
You admit that you cause trouble? he asked, only half teasing as he rest the landscape from the maze he'd set for her.
Every chance I get, she crowed, and her grin gloated of her enjoyment.
OakHeart laughed; and just like that, they were friends again.
((Teenagers.
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