[Flashback] The Song of the Blade (Fenilen)

[Tyrie]

82nd Day of Spring, 510 AV

Tyrie drew in a breath. Her dextrous fingers curled around the bowstring. She aimed towards the crest of the hill and drew the string back. The flight arrow sat straight, waiting to fly. The Wind Eagle and its Rider crested the hill and Tyrie aimed upwards following it briefly before letting the string go. With a resounding thwang, the arrow curved in to the air. Now it came down to trust. Trust that her Mother knew what she was doing. It was a technique they had practiced several times on the vague flats of the Unforgiving. Sure enough, the arrow flew straight, piercing the Stag in the shoulder as it appeared over the crest. As it toppled from the hit, the massive eagle swooped back down on the helpless animal, ending his life quickly.

The two stags they had killed that day would fulfil both their duties and then some. There was plenty of meat on these beasts to go around. Both Parent and Child were pleased with their morning’s work. As they arrived back at Wind Reach, Tyrie and her Mother parted ways. It was the third day of the eight that she worked. That was the day she trained during the afternoons. The Twin lakes always proved a peaceful place. She was usually left undisturbed to work on the lessons that her mentor taught her. She did not need to go back to him, but she always visited him at least three times a season to train and learn more advanced techniques.

Tyrie pulled her long locks of hair up and twisted them in to a ponytail. It was a technique she had down to a fine art. The only thing she used to keep the ponytail in place. She did it now without any though. Collecting her fire red hair and wrapping it around itself was an important part of her rituals now. She did it before every hunt and anything requiring physical activity. It was a way to give her the confidence she needed to pursue what she did. It made her forget the events of the past and focus on the now. She took a calming breath as she began to stretch for the long workout she had planned.

Finally satisfied, the hunter drew her Talon Sword. Every Talon Sword was a work of art by the blacksmiths and glassblowers of Wind Reach. The curved Blade was sharp and powerful. The handle was inlaid with glass. Compared to the weapons she had seen a few outsiders use, it seemed very different. The Talon Sword was equal parts Blade and Pommel where as many other swords used a far longer blade and shorter grip. She began to move her body to a silent rhythm. The blade sang as it cut through the air. The half Bell of the workout was always this ritualistic dance. There were few words for it. Smooth clean slashes of the blade from many different angles, designed to loosen the muscles and focus the mind.