Takes place during the wee little apprentice days with Anders. I suppose it explains how that drawing you found in Witch Hunt happened.
Anders wasn't very fond of listening to old enchanters rambling about mental discipline and such and such. To say he hated lectures would be a stretch- he liked learning. There were some teachers he liked learning from- especially those that would give the apprentices hands on lessons. And then there were those like Enchanter Sweeney. Nice guy, but his lectures made watching paint dry more exciting. It wasn't so much that Sweeney himself was boring but the subject: History of Spirit Healers.
"You'd think they'd want us to be more productive by actually doing some healing spells," Anders muttered to Finn, who was sitting next to him. But the other apprentice merely shushed him. "You're no fun."
"Oh, do you have something to say about the lesson, Anders?" Enchanter Sweeney asked. Anders was just one desk row away from him. He wondered if the old man was growing deaf. Thank the Maker for small blessings, right?
'It's no fun.' He wanted to say but he had nothing personal against Sweeney. Instead, Anders opened up his book (which he should have done in the last hour, really) and pretended to scroll for the passage Sweeney was going off from. "No, Enchanter."
The templar watching over the lecture, Ser Geoffrey (for some reason, he would get irritated whenever someone called him Jiffy. Anders had been addressing him as such ever since), eyed Anders through his oversized helm as if to say "I'm watching you."
Yes, him and every other templar in this tower. Anders retorted by sticking his tongue out. Ser Geoffrey moved to the back of the lecture hall (of course). Finn was trying to not get himself involved by keeping his eyes glued to his book. Sweeney already had his back turned, returning to the lecture and unaware of the exchange. Just another boring day. He couldn't wait to get his Harrowing over with so he could be with Karl.
Fifteen more minutes into the lecture and Anders knew that Geoffrey was still glaring at him. How? He felt his backside starting to smoke. He never liked templars, but he never liked Geoffrey especially. To the little credit of most templars, they treated the much younger apprentices like they would treat other children. Some never had any kind words to say, so they would say nothing. Geoffrey, on the other hand, would slip the occasional "your parents don't love you anymore" to an apprentice who would even dare have a glimmer of hope of returning home. Anders was one of them.
"Try not to get too angry there, apprentice. Or you would get possessed by a rage demon." One of the taunts Anders recalled from the templar after he apprentice kicked him in the shin (that was also after he made that parent comment).
He felt Finn tapping his foot with his as he blinked back to reality. Finn pointed at Anders's nearly-broken quill with a raised brow. He didn't bring a spare one with him- not that he ever needed it. Finn, ever so prepared, handed him another one. For a guy with obsessive compulsions and being almost okay with templars in his life, Finn was all right. Anders mouthed "thanks" and looked at his book. There was some space between the pictures and the text as well as blank pages near the end. Anders looked at his new quill. Might as well. It was a healthy way to get anger out, after all (though he would much rather practice his fireballs in that case).
He began scribbling and doodling all over the blank parts of the notebook, much to Finn's horror. Anders couldn't tell if it was because Finn was worried that it was ihis pen/i that was being used or that Anders had dared to iwrite/i in a book that was solely used for learning. At the moment though, Anders didn't care. He thought of happy things, like cats. A big, strong but still adorable and loving tiger named...Ser Pounce-a-lot!
'Ser Pounce-a-lot, defender of the innocent (especially mages), and slayer of evil (especially templars)!'
'Pounce, pounce, wherever you may be
I am lord of the pounce, said he.
I'll run under feet, wherever you may be.
And I'll leap on you in the pounce, said he.'
Sweeney was still lecturing. Finn was probably trying not to hyperventilate. Geoffrey was probably still staring at him, but that burning feeling on his back was finally off.
Lyrics are from Lord of Pounce by Marc Gunn.