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The clash of sword to shield was music to the old bull's ears. For the briefest of moments, he entertained the thought of smiling, but his mood was dashed by the hollow thunk of wood striking bone. "STOP!" he called with his booming voice, striding forward into the practice ring. Every eye turned to focus on him as he entered the dirt ring. With a loud, dramatic sigh, he came to a stop before the pair of training fighters. "You weren't holding your shield like I showed you, were you." His words were not a question but an accusation of guilt.

"N-no, sir." One of the combatants mumbled with a bow of his head, injured hand cradled protectively to his chest. "I'm sorry."

The old warrior gave a snort of disdain and plucked the wooden practice shield from his student's grasp. They were all young, barely entering adulthood, just like he was when he had first begun his training. And just like him when he was their age, they still felt themselves to be invulnerable. "Now I'm going to show you this one more time. Pay close attention." He said, slipping the shield onto his arm and tightening the straps. "Now then, once you have it good and snug, make sure your-"

"Excuse me." The old warrior froze in place as the soft voice drifted to his ear, interrupting his lecture. Never, in all of his years as trainer, had anyone ever interrupted him except to warn of a coming attack. "Excuse me." The soft voice came again. "Are you Rakthon Stoneheart? The warrior trainer?"

Rakthon gave another irritated snort and turned around, fully intending to give a severe tongue-lashing to the interloper that would disrupt the training of the tribe's future protectors, but something made him catch his tongue just before he spoke. "Yes. I am he." He said instead. "What do you want, doe? Are you a messenger? If so your message had better be damned important."

Several feet away stood an adolescent tarin doe, no older than his students. Tattered and worn, her scant leather coverings spoke of hardship. The large claw of some predatory animal hung from a leather thong around her neck. Her amber colored eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, turned vaguely in his direction, although they seemed incapable of holding still as her gaze shifted constantly. Rakthon prided himself on knowing the name of every tarous for miles around, but he had never laid eyes on anyone that resembled the blood-bay doe addressing him.

"No sir, I am not." She replied. Her voice was soft, but demanding, and reached the bull's ears clearly despite the distance between them. The strong and bitter stench of alcohol stung his sensitive nose as she spoke. "I have no message, simply a request."

"A request?" Rakthon repeated, reaching up to scratch thoughtfully at the base of one of his large horns. "Well, speak up then. What do you want from me?"

"I want to join for training." The strange doe said simply.

Several giggles erupted from the watching group behind the old warrior, but they were silenced with an angry glance. "Why do you want to do that?" He asked as he turned back to her.

"I want to become a warrior." She replied softly, the words almost a demand.

Rakthon walked closer to the strange doe, trying to understand the feeling of wrongness that seemed to emanate from her. It made him nervous to even have her so close to his students unchallenged, although she had not made a single threatening gesture. He studied her further as he walked a slow circle around her. Her fur was covered in a fine layer of red dust and her short horns had been sharpened to unnatural points. Her black mane was tied back in a single tight braid. Her head did not move to follow him, yet he sensed that she was aware of his location at all times. There was an almost jumpy tenseness to her limbs that also made him uncomfortable with her presence. She reminded him of a rabid animal; wild, unpredictable, ready to bite unprovoked at a moment's notice.

"No." He finally answered as he came around to face her again, his countenance as cold as his rejection. He then turned and began walking back toward the training ring where his pupils stood, watching the exchange in rapt fascination. While he hated to turn his back on the stranger, he instinctively knew it would mean trouble to show any sign of the nervousness she caused him.

"No?" She repeated in disbelief, a note of challenge entering her voice. "I don't find that to be an acceptable answer."

"Well that's too bad," Rakthon said over his shoulder, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Because I refuse. Go talk to the druids, you might have better luck with them. They seem to like hving their thoughts muddled by other substances."

"I don't care about the druids." The strange doe replied, her voice becoming lower as her anger rose. Rakthon could feel the coiling tenseness in her, like a predator preparing to spring. "I came to you because I want to be a warrior, and you will train me."

The older bull screwed his face into an expression of rage, fighting to hide his growing nervousness. He was unconcerned for himself, he could defend himself well enough, but if the strange doe went wild, she might hurt some of his inexperienced students; young warriors of the tribes, entrusted into his care. It would be better to send her away or lure her to a place where she could be dealt with safely. Coming to a decision, Rakthon threw the wooden shield to the ground and spun to face her, taken aback for a moment when he found her much closer than he had anticipated. He wondered briefly about how she had managed to walk up behind him so quietly before thrusting the thought out of his mind.

Hiding his surprise, Rakthon gave a disdainful snort and jabbed a thick finger into the doe's chest as he spoke, not allowing himself to be disturbed by her unfocused gaze. "I don't particularly _care_what you want! You're a mess and a drunk! I could smell you a mile away! You can't even see straight can you?! You're not fit to so much as clean up after the horses and you want to be trained as a warrior? Ha! Get out of my sight before I lose my patience!" With his dismissal given, Rakthon raised his hand and slapped the younger tarin hard across her face. He expected her to collapse to the ground before crawling shamefully away.

But she did not fall. Her head snapped to the side as she was struck, and she stumbled back a step before she was able to regain her balance. She stayed that way for a moment before her head slowly turned back to face the old warrior, her eyes blazing with anger and focused directly on him with deadly intent. "Well... If that's the way you feel..." She spoke softly, although her voice was sharply edged with barely restrained rage. "Then I shall have to Change Your MIND!!"

Faster than Rakthon could have expected, the doe's hands shot up and grabbed his large horns, pulling his head forward until it crashed into her own with a loud thunk, sending a blinding flash of white pain through the older bull's head. With a sharp twist of her arms, she then threw him roughly to the ground while he was disoriented. His breath left him with a hard cough as he landed on his back. He managed to roll away mere moments before her large cloven hooves crashed down in the spot where his head had been.

Rising to his feet to face his much younger opponent, Rakthon drew upon his many long years of training and experience. He had faced many young upstarts that thought they had the advantage on the older warrior by their age and strength alone, and while the doe staring at him obviously had some experience, she was still sloppy, uncoordinated and didn't seem to know the proper stance she should be in to keep her balance.

When she finally charged him, he dodged her and easily deflected her initial blows, waiting before returning any attacks while he gauged her skill. She was powerful, and while her attacks were vicious, they were mostly uncoordinated and wild; her movements inefficient and wasteful. Rakthon reasoned that if he could engage her long enough, dodging and blocking, her youthful energy would quickly expire and he would again have the upper hand.

The doe seemed to have other plans, however. An unexpected kick to his knee while he was already ducking her swinging arm, nearly sent the old warrior tumbling. He swung out, hoping to knock her back a bit and give himself time to recover, but his arm met with only air as she ducked and kicked out again, her hoof striking the center of his chest and sending him stumbling backwards and barely able to get his balance again.

Infuriated that her target had not fallen, Rakthan barely had time to prepare himself as the young fighter suddenly shifted her direction and rammed her head into his abdomen. He felt the jab of her sharpened horns as she twisted her head and was thankful for the thick leather jerkin that protected him from being gored as they tumbled together to the ground. Clasping his hands together in one large mallet-like fist, he slammed down with all his weight on the back of the doe's unprotected neck.

The doe gave a loud bellow and rolled off of him, her hands moving to her injured neck. As she lay rocking back and forth, yelling in agony, Rakthon scrambled to his feet and deliver a sharp kick to her side. This caused her to curl protectively inward, surrounding his leg with her body. He tried to step back, but she clung tightly and refused to let go. Suddenly, her arm jutted upward, her fist slamming hard into the back of his other knee. Another blow struck just below the hock.

Rakthon roared in surprise, rage and pain as he lost his balance and once again crashed to the ground. He tried once more to kick free, but blow after painful blow was delivered to his flailing legs. In desperation, he looked around and spotted the wooden shield close by. Grabbing it firmly, he swung it at the female's head, causing it to connect solidly with her right temple.

The old battered wood of the practice shield shattered upon impact, sending a rain of splinters and fragments in all directions. The doe gave a small cry as she was struck, then collapsed limply across the old warrior's legs. Rakthon shoved her off and rose to his feet, favoring one leg as he watched the doe closely, but she didn't stir. Ready to defend himself against another surprise attack, the old warrior cautiously reached out, jabbing her hard with stiff fingers, but when she again failed to respond, he turned to his gathered audience, which included not only his students but several curious members of the village. "Clean this mess up!" He yelled to no one in particular. "And see to the doe. If she's alive, get her to the healer's tent. If she dead, you know what to do with the corpse. I want to talk to her if she ever wakes up again."

His final orders given, Rakthon turned away and hobbled back toward the village, muttering softly to himself.

*********

Left in the care of the most skillful healer in the village, it was three days before the injured tarin doe opened her eyes again. "Ugh, this is worse than my first hangover." She muttered darkly as she came awake. Blinking several times, she began to look around at her surroundings, finding herself lying on a padded cot inside a darkened tent, the scent of drying herbs hanging heavily in the air. Her clothes had been removed, and there were bandages on various parts of her body.

The doe tried to sit up, but was immediately overcome with an overpowering wave of dizziness. "Oh! Oh good! You're awake!" A strange voice spoke up before the painted face of a tarin druid came into the doe's vision. "I'm so glad! We thought we'd lost you for a while there! That was a rather nasty bump you had!"

"I've had worse." The doe replied earnestly, waiting patiently as the druid checked her over. "Do you suppose you could give me my flask? I could really use a drink."

"Oh! Oh, of course, you poor thing!" The druid replied before hurrying out of the tent. The doe watched her go then looked down to see a pile of her clothing, which had been folded neatly and rested on the ground beside the cot where she lay, the requested flask resting on top of the pile. She was just beginning to reach for it when the healer returned, carrying a small water pitcher and a bone cup. She filled the cup and offered it to her patient as she stammered an apology. "I'm terribly sorry. I don't know why I didn't think to have one ready today. I swear I've had one every other day since you came here but it must have just-"

The doe carefully lifted her head to take a sip, assisted by the druid, then grimaced and gently set the cup aside before laying her head back down and closing her eyes. "I would prefer my own flask, if you would." She requested, interrupting the healer's rambling.

"Leave us." Came a sudden gruff command before the healer could respond. She left without a word, leaving the injured doe alone with Rakthon and the pair of guards flanking him. The doe's eyes remained closed, but she seemed to be aware of her visitors. With a soft groan, Rakthon lowered himself to the stool that rested beside her cot, his legs stiff in their soreness. "Well, stranger, I see that you lived." He said finally. "And not so much worse for wear. So, what have you to say for yourself?"

Slowly and with deliberate movements, the doe's arm stretched out, her hand turning to expose her open palm. "My flask." She demanded.

Rakthon ignored the extended hand. "There's plenty of time for you to kill yourself with your vile poison later. First, you will speak to me. Who are you and why did you come here? Why did you want me to train you so badly that you would attack me?" Rakthon waited, but his questions were met with an expectant silence. "Well?!" He finally demanded, but still she said nothing. Finally, growing impatient, he turned to one of the guards. "Go get this flask of hers that she wants. Maybe it'll loosen her lips enough for us to get some information."

"It's right over there, with the rest of my possessions." The doe offered helpfully. A few moments later, the old skin flask was slapped against her upturned palm. She did not bother sitting up, she simply pulled out the cork, filling the small tent with the bitter scent of strong alcohol, and tipped it upside down over her mouth. She took several long, deep swallows of the burning liquid before lowering it and resealing the skin before setting it aside again. Finally she opened her eyes, turning her unfocused and bloodshot gaze in the old bull's direction.

"Well?" The old trainer demanded tiredly. "Are you willing to speak to us now?"

"A little." The doe replied, but offered no more.

Rapidly growing frustrated with the stranger, Rakthon gave an angry snort and rose to his feet, kicking away the stool. His tufted tail snapped back and forth to further show his growing impatience. "Then speak your little to answer my questions!" He bellowed, tossing his head to show the threat of his large, curved horns. "Who are you and what are your reasons for coming here?!"

"My reasons are my business, and my business is my own." The doe replied calmly, pausing to take another drink from her flask before setting it aside and laying back down. "But I will tell you my name. It is Nadirah. Nadirah Wolfcaller."

"That's an odd name for a tarin." Rakthon replied suspiciously, glaring at the young doe who seemed to take no notice of his ire. "Where are you from, Nadirah?" He growled, speaking her name with a disbelieving lilt.

"A place that no longer exists." She replied simply, the tone of her voice saying that she would offer no further information.

The old bull studied the younger tarin closely. Previously hidden by her clothes and dirty fur, he noticed that her skin was riddled with scar fur and patches of raw-looking pink flesh where no fur would grow again. It hinted at injuries far worse than any a tarin of her age should endure. Yet somehow she had survived, and had made her way to him, seeking his help to defeat the monsters who had left her so broken.

Rakthon felt his anger ebb away as these thoughts ran through his mind. Retrieving the kicked stool, he gave a weary sigh and settled again at the side of her cot. Although he still sensed something immensely wrong about the doe, and felt uneasy in her presence, he was also impressed by her quiet tenacity and determination. "All right." He finally said. "You may join those already in training. They're ahead of you so you'd better catch up fast. I will not jeopardize their training for yours."

"Understood." Nadirah replied quietly.