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Too Defensive

Samuel's arm buckled as the steel blade slammed down. He raised his own sword up to block, pivoting to the side to avoid the attack. His opponent backed up slightly and charged forward. The light of the early morning sun caught the metal, sending a glint across the dirt pavilion.

He raised his blade again, barely blocking the blow. The momentum of the sword carried through into his arm and chest, fur rippling in the late summer breeze. Another strike, and he was thrown back slightly.

The bear across from him smiled, and lunged forward again. A flurry of blows followed, forcing the young otter backwards till he met the wall.

"And-" The wolf brought his blade up to Samuel's exposed neck. "You're dead."

Samuel tossed the sword to the side, sliding down the wall slowly. His paws were sore, and his muscles burned almost as much as his face did at the embarrassment of being disarmed yet again.

The bear -an old knight by the name of Orson Carnell- offered a similarly callused paw. Samuel took it, pulling himself up to his feet. He continued to stare at the ground, frustrated. What should have been a familiar mood at this point, for all his 'success'.

"Aye, don't give me that look." Orson groaned. "Yah did fine. Held yer own for the most part. Yah just need to be a bit more aggressive, that's all. Fighting you, it's like fighting a twice-damned turtle! All shell and no claw!"

Samuel coughed. "A bit hard when you're acting like you're about to cut my head off. Are you sure that was an act? Could have sworn you were-"

A darkness grew over Orson's face as he spoke, cutting Samuel off. "Of course it was an act. Yah don't spend as long as I do in battle without knowing how to restrain yourself."

The otter shook his head, sensing a change in topic was rapidly needed. Orson was one of the keep's oldest and most decorated knights. It wasn't the best idea to irritate him. Tales of the old bear's ferocity in battle had been recounted to him many a time over a mug of ale late in the night.

"I still don't get what's the point of all this. Swords are fun and all, but the only time I'm going to need to use one would be if my runes weren't working, and seeing as that has yet to happen..." Samuel trailed off.

"What happens if you're caught unaware? If you don't have time to summon-"

"Manifest." Samuel corrected.

Orson sighed "-Manifest a rune? What then?"

The otter scoffed, flexing his worn-out paws. It felt good to stretch them after a few hours spent gripping a handle. "It takes seconds, sometimes less. See?"

Samuel raised his paw, turning the soft underside to the sky. He focused on the spot just above his central pad. Empty air, at the moment. With a slow exhale out, he focused on a certain shape in his mind -a shape like a "C" that had been crudely carved into stone.

The rune snapped into place with a sound like a soft hum. The sound faded rapidly, and the rune pulsed a vibrant green as the air ripple around it with heat.

"See? Less than a second. I doubt I can draw a sword at that speed." The otter said with a small smirk. It took some people seconds, or even a full minute to manifest a rune -even a simple pure one. He'd always been rather talented at it, something that was usually ascribed to his bloodline.

Even that which you're proudest of can't be fully attributed to your own skill.

He shook his head, pushing away those thoughts.

Orson shook his head slightly. "Kid, you asked me to help you get better. Why in the Horned One's nails are you complaining now? Seems like a pretty quick change of attitude."

Samuel sighed. He might as well come clean now. "I- I don't feel like I'm progressing fast enough. We've been at this for nearly two months, and I can't seem to find an opening."

"So what, yer quitting? What kind of attitude is that? The bear asked, folding his arms over his immense chest. "Yer from the Northern Lands, right? Up past Inishfall?"

Samuel nodded.

"Yer big on ancestors, right? What would yer progenitors think if they saw you quitting like this? What if they-"

Progenitors? Samuel thought. That was a rather big word, so to speak. The otter often forgot that -despite his heavy accent, unkempt fur, and general smell- the bear was a highly trained knight in a small but prosperous kingdom. It was the kind of assumption he generally tried to avoid.

"-can't just give up. If you do, you'll never get any-" Orson stopped. "Are yer even listening to me? What did I just say?"

The otter shook his head. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just tired."

"Good. Now no more excuses. Pick up that blade, we're gonna try a new tactic."

Samuel walked over the few feet to where he'd thrown the sword. It's steel blade caught the sun again as it rose higher in the sky. They'd been at it since sunrise, and showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

He hefted the blade up by the hilt, once more getting used to the weight. He'd never admit it to the knight, but he was getting somewhat used to the feel. It felt natural in his paw, and his fingers automatically curled into the same grip that Orson had spent hours drilling into him long before he was even allowed to swing it. The webbing between his fingers hadn't been as much of a problem as he'd initially thought, though they were sore sometimes at the end of a long session.

Sword in paw, he walked over to the other side of the field as Orson indicated. The bear raised his own blade -small in his paws, but the exact same as the one in Samuel's.

"Ok, new tactic. I'm going to run at you swinging. You're going to look for an opening in my stance, my swing. Wherever you can find one. Once you do, I want you to swing at me. This is a practice in both spotting, and maintaining self-control. Stop just before hitting me but don't hold back." The bear instructed. He fell into an easy stance, poised to run.

"And if I don't find one? What then?"

Orson let out a loud laugh. "They'll be one kid, don't yah worry your pretty little head over it. If I can learn how to keep my guard up, I'm sure I can let it down. Ready?"

Samuel nodded, raising his own blade. The sun was behind him, and he had a direct line of sight to the bear on the other side of the field. This shouldn't be too hard, even if he was less than skilled at swordplay.

Orson let out a deep yell, shaking Samuel to his core. It was so sudden and unexpected it completely threw him off guard. The bear took off at a dead sprint, raising his blade high above his head as he charged.

The otter let out a panicked squeak, throwing himself to the side as the bear closed in. "What in the hell! Are you trying to kill me?"

Orson spun on one paw, swinging his blade around in a two-handed sweep. "I told yah I wasn't going easy on yah. Find an opening!"

Samuel jumped back, barely avoiding a graze to his chest. He severely doubted that Orson would actually hit him, but his brain didn't seem to want to register that fact. That small prickle of fear started at the base of his spine and started working it's way up to his skull. It took all of Samuel's concentration not to drop his sword and run.

The bear completed his swing, teetering on one foot like he was about to fall. No way that was fake. There's my chance.

The thrust forward, both hands on the hilt. Orson recovered at the last moment, pulling out of the fall and knocking the blade to the side with ease.

"A little slow kid, but good form." Orson lunged forward with an overhand blow once more. "Again!" He cried.

Samuel threw up his sword, taking the blow directly. His hands went numb from the direct impact. He wasn't kidding. Orson wasn't going easy on him at all. A blow like that would have cleaved him in too!

"You're-" Another slam down. "-too-" Metal clashed against metal. "-defensive!" The bear shouted, switching paws at the last moment for a swipe to his side.

The otter caught on in time though, throwing up his sword at the last moment. The force of the blow knocked the blade from his paw, sending it spinning across the training yard like a scythe.

Samuel jumped back; right paw cradled against his chest. He started to back up, before tripping on a small stone stuck in the dirt. Why hadn't that been removed? Surely the groundskeepers would have removed such an obvious obstacle.

Stars flashed in front of Sam's eyes as the back of his head struck the hardened ground. Through blurred vision, he could see Orson approaching, sword in paw. The look in his eyes was nothing short of fear-inducing.

Panic finally won out, and Samuel began to scoot backwards across the ground, scraping and scratching his paw pads. Orson just continued his pursuit, either unaware of the horror he was inflicting, or uncaring.

"Get up!" The bear shouted. "Defend yourself, you cur!" He raised his sword up high, preparing to deliver the killing blow. This wasn't a game anymore. This was life or death.

Samuel's fight or flight instinct kicked in. Without even thinking he raised his paw in front of him and pointed. A flash of flame -tinted the same hue of green as the rune- shot forward, striking Orson in the chest. The bear was thrown back a few feet, but stayed on his feet. A large scorch mark had been burnt into the front of his leather jerkin.

Orson stared down at his chest, then at the panicked face of the otter. He dropped his sword to the side with a shocked look on his face. "I- I might have gone too far."

The otter raised his paw to his face to wipe his nose, startled to discover he'd started to cry. His body shook from adrenaline and fear. Logically, he knew that he'd never been in any danger. But logic sometimes failed when you were facing down a 200 pound bear with blood lust in his eyes.

"Yah ok kid?" Orson asked, taking a few steps forward. Samuel rapidly wiped his tears, getting to his feet. He couldn't be seen crying, though he was certain the bear could smell the fear on him.

"I'm so sorry! Are you ok?"

Orson took a small pause, a stunned look on his face. "I'm fine. I've shrugged off bigger hits than that. Are you-?"

"I'm fine!" Samuel spurt out. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "I'm fine."

The bear took a deep breath, wincing just a bit. He started to undo his gear, letting it drop to the side. "I think that's enough for the day. You- You go get cleaned up."

Samuel nodded quickly, then collected his sword and left.

(Author's note: Thanks for reading! This is one of maybe a few little medieval fantasy stories set in an AU universe with Sam and some other characters from Oakwood

College. Basically, I wanted to write furry fantasy without making new characters.)