Oriah turned in surprise at Rachel's words and felt a stab of sympathy. Sunberth was the last place she would have guessed the combat instructor to have hailed from; it was no small wonder she possessed so much interest in Yahal.
"I feel that soon Yahal will have no choice but to notice one such as yourself," the squire encouraged truthfully, staring at the makeshift target while her mind wandered elsewhere. "From what I understand, he favors us most when we give ourselves for someone else, or prove our faith in the darkest of times."
She returned her gaze to Rachel with a shrug and smile. "Not very exact, I know, but I think that is a good thing. Because it means we must learn for ourselves what our gods and goddesses live for."
The barest of pauses. "And what we live for, too."
Oriah rubbed her lips against one another, unused to speaking so much in one conversation after all her time spent training in the woods with Sera Mora. She was painfully aware of her still somewhat heavy accent and limited diction. Perhaps it was time to try and convince her reclusive patron that it wouldn't hurt to allow her squire to be trained in something other than combat or stealth.
Another chime or so of friendly exchange passed before a third barged into their clearing. Oriah nearly dropped her bow in fright, but managed to keep a hold of it at the last possible tick. Straightening her posture and expression, she turned to find, much to her relief, that it was one of her brethren on patrol.
"H-Hail, Ser!" she blurted, having forgotten most protocol in being caught off guard. The girl winced; if Mora happened to be watching, her squire was sure to face yet another exasperating test.
Her utter surprise at the knight's admittance to being marked by her god almost left her speechless with intense curiosity and kinship, but Oriah recovered quickly enough to respond, "I am humbled, Ser, to know I share Yahal's favor with one such as yourself. And my patron is doing well. She spends today alone, as she prefers, but I shall let her know you asked of her. I am sure she would be happy to know I found you in good health as well."
The squire was babbling, she knew. But it was always difficult not to within the presence of her superiors. Sneaking a glance at her friend, Oriah felt some of her own nervousness subside in seeing Rachel was in the same state. She patted the instructor on the shoulder as if to say, don't worry I was a nervous wreck too.
Then, with a friendly chuckle, Ser Wade returned to his patrolling and left the two women to their practicing. A rush of relief exited Oriah in the form of a sigh. She was always concerned with what impression she made upon the Knights, especially the one in charge of training her. "That makes two of us, then," she confessed in response to Rachel's words, which followed a wild bolt to the ground.
The squire was in the middle of readying her bow when a loud snap! filled the air. She swiveled in the direction it came from. It sounded as though someone--or something--and stepped on a twig. Was it Ser Wade again? No, it couldn't be...the knight had walked off in the opposite direction. Sera Mora? Heh, never in a thousand years would the Chaktawe make so much noise in her approach. And they were too loud and many to entice any predators, who usually came out only at night anyway. A sliver of worry crawled up Oriah's spine.
Who was out there then?
"D-Drop your weapons!"
The Benshira squinted at the treeline in confusion. Her eyes slowly widened in understanding, however, when a lone figure in dirty clothing and sporting the most disheveled hair she'd ever seen walked out in to the clearing. "I said, drop your weapons!"
You've got to be kidding me, she lamented to the air. The aspiring bandit was only a boy, with gaunt cheeks and a desperate look in his hesitant gaze. In his bony hands was a hunting bow that had obviously seen some use. He must have survived a harsh Winter from the looks of his thin frame and worn but sturdy coat. Did he just arrive from somewhere afar to have not gone to the city for help?
"Here, look," Oriah responded gently, setting her shortbow slowly to the ground. "we wish you no harm. You seem hungry, and tired...we can help, you need only ask. I am a squire of the Syliran Order; my honor is my life, you can trust my word."
For a moment, the boy's resolution seemed to waver. But then he tightened his grip and aimed his bow at Oriah when she reached into a pocket. "D-Don't move! I swear! I don't w-want to shoot you but I will!
The squire only smiled in return and revealed what she had retrieved. It was a small, honey colored breadroll she had saved from breakfast this morning. Bread was hard to come by when one lived within the woods, but Sera Mora had rewarded her with one from a recent trip to the city. Oriah had saved it all this time, wanting to savor it once her bow practice was over, but the boy seemed to need it far more than she.
It undid him, the mere sight of food. He seemed to forget entirely that one of the two women could very well still be armed. "It's yours," Oriah encouraged. "Take it. And there is more in the city, too, if you like."
At this point the boy was inching closer, hunting bow hanging by his side like a forgotten nightmare. "Rachel, my friend here, lives in the city. She is one of the kindest people I know and she can tell you how nice it is in Syliras. Isn't that so, Rachel?"
These were big words, considering the two women had only met that day. But Oriah was at a loss for what else to do, and she felt so sorry for the lad. She hoped sincerely that Rachel would not mind. If anything, it might stall things long enough for a better solution to come their way. Perhaps in the form of another knight. A silent and crafty one...
The boy was wolfing down his breadroll now, looking up at the blonde haired instructor with the intense curiosity of a child awaiting a bedtime story.
oochehe, oh I think she may turn up yet. and never when we expect her to! I hope it's okay I threw in the boy, let me know if anything needs tweaking.