Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT. Duh. So you can't sue me. I'm just borrowing
them for a bit. But all the original creations in this are mine, so if you
want to use them, please just ask. Thank you. :P
Rivalries
Prologue: A moment's peace
Splinter looked down upon the two before him with grim silence, his face a mask of utter disappointment. Never in his life had he ever felt as he did now, his heart filled with frustration and anger towards someone that he cared for. Or more rather, the two sons that sat before him on the bench.
Neither one was daring to meet his gaze at the moment and instead kept their eyes faced downward to the floor. Every now and then, they would shoot an angry glance at one another but then it was back to staring at the floor. For Splinter, who watched their exchanges, it was hard to decide what was to be done with the pair.
Both of them had been raised to know better and to act within the boundaries set down for them by their father. At least, that was what Splinter had always believed. But now, as he looked upon his two sons and recalled the events that had led to this moment, he wasn't so sure.
It was the yelling that first alerted Splinter to the problem. He had been in his study reading when he heard the voices of his sons, Raphael and Leonardo, shouting at each other from the living room. This in itself was not so unusual since it was common for the two to fight at least one a day. That much Splinter was used to, because he was the one who normally had to break them apart before things got too out of hand.
There were certain times though, like now, when he was tempted to just let them work the argument out for themselves. They were growing up after all and even if he were their father, Splinter knew that he couldn't break up every single fight. That would be like saying he didn't believe they could learn how to work out their differences on their own and he didn't want that to happen. No, sometimes it was just better to let the children handle things on their own and see how things turned out.
When he heard the crash however, Splinter immediately knew that standing back couldn't be an option this time. In a heartbeat, he had forgotten about his book and was on his feet racing for the door. The entire process only took him a few seconds but in that brief span of time, everything else in the Lair had gone eerily quiet.
This made the old rat a bit uneasy as he hurried out the study's door and down the corridor to the living room. It made him wonder just what had happened and if one of his children had been hurt in the process. It was a worry that nagged at his mind until he reached the living room and saw the results for himself.
From a single glance, it was easy to tell that most of the room was intact. For Splinter, that was a great relief, for it meant that there was less of a chance of someone being hurt. The only damage that he could tell that had been done had happened in one corner near the kitchen entrance. The place where most of his sons had gathered, easily hiding whatever had fallen and staring down at it with obvious dismay.
From where he stood, Splinter could easily make out five forms of various sizes. Three were standing in the corner where Splinter's attention was focused, their bodies clearly showing that they were nervous. The other two, their body postures showing the same tenseness and fear as the first three, stood nearby in the kitchen doorway.
The first trio, all boys, were young turtles about ten years of age and were easy to tell apart from the start, at least in their father's eyes. Nearest to the kitchen door was the eldest of Splinter's sons, Leonardo. He was easy to pick out due to his height and the blue belt that he wore around his waist. Normally, he also wore joint pads of the same color, but when not training with his Master and siblings, these were stored away in his room.
When it was time for training, Leonardo wore not only these but the blue bandanna mask that symbolized the art of combat that his Master taught him and the others. All of these were worn with pride during those periods of practice and exercise, always giving the boy a sense of purpose. He always tried to pay attention during his Master's lectures and instruction, taking everything to heart and embedding it there.
Which was perhaps the reason that this youngster was the most promising of Splinter's five pupils. Though they all practiced together and listened to what he taught them, it was usually Leonardo who caught the gist of things first. He was the one that always practiced hardest, always pushing himself harder and harder until he achieved the same effect of his father.
Quite the contrast when compared to the brother that stood next to him. Michaelangelo by name, this was the smallest and youngest of Leonardo's brothers. Like the former, he also wore a belt, a partial symbol of his heritage. Unlike Leonardo's however, Michaelangelo, or Mikey as he was commonly known among his siblings, was not blue. His was a light orange, which was a perfect match to the light mood that normally accompanied this one wherever he went.
In his family, Mikey was known as many things. He was not only the youngest son, but also the most energetic one, as well as the open heart and the constant practical joker. Basically, he was the one who was constantly seeking the next adventure and trying to get a laugh out of someone when he played one of his tricks. But he was also the one who seemed to be able to sense when someone needed a friend and always tried to help them feel better when they were upset.
These were good traits and ones that Splinter readily encouraged in his young son. He saw the value of them and knew that one day they would serve the boy well in his later life. But when it came to his training and learning the discipline of a warrior, well, there was still a great deal to be desired.
That same energy that made Mikey such a joyful person was also his weakness at times. It made him constantly in need of motion, thus making him impatient and restless when he needed to be still. Thus at times it made it easier for his brothers to overcome him in their sparring matches and so caused him to lose more times than to win.
So Splinter often spent many hours with this one, trying to find ways to center him more and get him to settle down. At times it seemed to work but during others, it appeared as a lost cause. Mikey would be himself, no matter what was tried with him unless he really wanted to go along with something.
Much like his other elder brother, Raphael, who stood near him and opposite of Leo. This one was also quite the contrast when compared with his two brothers. Where one was disciplined and the other carefree, his mood was usually sullen and withdraw. He rarely joined in on his siblings' games and activities of his own initiative. Normally, one of the others or his father had to give him the extra encouragement he needed for that task. When that occurred, Raphael would join however reluctantly and take at least part of what happened in stride. But only to a certain degree.
It was a known fact among the family that Raphael was not the most patient person. He wasn't as rash as Mikey got, but he had had his moments. Such as the times when one of his siblings, frequently Leo or Mikey, pressed him too far and Raphael lashed back out at his 'opponent.' Which was why the color of his belt, an almost crimson red, best suited his erratic daily moods as his brothers' did.
More than once Splinter had been forced to intervene in cases like that and then later administer the necessary punishments on the guilty parties. He never enjoyed having to do that, even when it was needed. The last thing he ever wanted was to harm or embarrass one of his children. In a way, it made him feel as if he were belittling not only them but himself as well.
Which was what always made it hard to look Raphael in the eye when he was about to be punished. It was there, a deep sense of rage and hurt that seemed to run deep into the boy's inner most soul. The reasons for these emotions were not completely known to the old rat, though he had his theories. Perhaps, in some strange way, Raphael could understand better than his brothers and sister the path that their lives were leading them down. Maybe he could understand that they were not like the rest of the world and never would be. A truth that Splinter had long since realized and accepted, though he had never fully expressed it to his children.
So when he saw these emotions in his son's eyes, Splinter sometimes wondered how much he did comprehend. It made him want to ease the pain that boiled inside Raphael, to find a way to free him from his personal torment. Which was why he hoped that one day the training that the boy was receiving would abate the rage and help him to find his way in the world.
For the present however, these things seemed to be farthest from Raphael's mind. Though his back was turned to his Sensei, Splinter could still see the emotions that were written in the boy's tense frame. The same ones that were echoed in the motions and facial expressions of his two brothers and partially in that of the two whom stood nearby.
This last pair, the final members of the family, had been watching the first three from the kitchen doorway as Splinter had been doing from the hallway. As with their other siblings, neither one had spoken a word since their father's arrival and showed no sign that they would any time soon. Not that the rat expected them to, since neither child was exactly known for their verbal outbursts like the others.
Closest to Leonardo, leaning against the bricked section of the opening, was the last of the four sons, Donatello. More commonly known to the others simply either as Don or Donnie, he was a quiet fellow by nature. Of course, this was only part of what made him unique among his siblings. Where his brothers preferred to focus their attentions on fighting skills and strength, he was more likely to put that same energy into his studies.
He would spend hours pouring into whatever books were available to him, seeming to soak up every bit of knowledge that he could from the words of people he would never even meet. These habits easily earned him good marks in his schooling and made him more knowledgeable than the others as well as earned him his belt color, purple for wisdom. But it was what also caused him problems at some points. His brothers, a bit put out that he always got the best grades, sometimes decided to tease Donnie about being such a bookwork and might even go as far as to exclude him from their games.
It was wrong of them to do so and Splinter often reprimanded them when that happened, but strangely, Donatello wasn't really bothered by these actions. To him, it was just his brothers' way of doing things, just like he had his own way. Besides, it gave him more time to study and to work on the projects that he made.
These projects, sometimes turning out to be useful for the family and others just to see if the idea was possible, were the real joy in his life. Using bits and pieces of junk from about the sewers, Donatello had learned to create things, to make inventions. These were, in their own way, Donatello's way of expressing himself. Whatever he made, it was always done with care and showed a reflection of the maker in the finished product.
Splinter was proud that his third son was confident in what he did and usually encouraged him to continue his explorations. Of course, it hadn't always been that way. Until a few years before, because of his somewhat unusual behavior of those days, Splinter had begun to wonder if something had been wrong with the boy.
As a toddler, Donatello had been very similar to what he was now. He had been quiet, more taken to playing by himself while the others ran around making noise and causing trouble. That was seemingly one warning that Splinter caught onto back then. The other was the lack of speech that came from Don.
While his brothers had learned to speak when they were little over a year old and had been practicing as they matured, Donatello had remained silent. He would communicate using body language, his facial expression and other gestures to convey what he wanted, but never spoke words. For some time, this frightened Splinter, who became worried that something was wrong with this son and for awhile, he worked at trying to figure out what was happening.
It wasn't until Donatello was nearly three and finally started talking that Splinter realized what was going on in the child's mind. It wasn't that his son was mentally slower than the rest or had some other problem. The only thing that was happening was that Don was simply taking his own time at reaching the same destination as the others. He just hadn't been in the same great hurry to get there as they had been.
Much the same as the one who stood behind him, clutching his arm with a grip that Splinter was certain could hurt Donatello if her claws hadn't been sheathed. This one, known as Magnolia to her father and Maggie to her brothers, was the youngest and smallest of his five students. At seven years, she was her brothers' junior by nearly three years and this difference often showed in their daily contacts.
Then again, it was only one of many contrasts that separated this child from her brothers. Not only was she younger than they, but she was also the only girl among them as well as the sole member in the family beyond Splinter himself who was not a reptile. And though she was mammalian in origin, like her Sensei, she was not a rat as he was.
Maggie was a cat, or more rather, a kitten who was on her way to becoming one. Instead of scaled skin like the boys' or a coat of brown like Splinter, Maggie's hide was an unblemished grey-white that covered every inch of her small form. Instead of fingernails, she had claws that were mostly kept sheathed but could be dangerous if she used them correctly.
While her elder brothers wore belts, joint pads, and bandana masks, she had on a simple green garment that resembled a sleeveless dress that reached just at her knees. It was one of only two that she had at any given time, either one usually in need of repair or cleaning. Both were patched from constant wear and tear and more than once had been replaced when a growth spurt hit.
That didn't happen very often and when it did, Maggie never seemed to grow very much, as her present height showed. Though seven, her tallest height to date only reached below Mikey's shoulder, who was the smallest after her. It was something that had kept her from doing the same things everyone else at times, since there was always talk of her being hurt. But it didn't keep her from at least trying when she could.
If there was any way to accurately describe the pint-sized feline, it was that she was stubborn. She rarely if ever backed down from a challenge and when she did, it was only under the most extreme circumstances. Otherwise, she would follow whatever she did out to its end, regardless of consequence.
Something that like the qualities of her brothers, could be considered both a blessing and a curse. For a blessing, Splinter knew that as long as she tried her hardest and didn't give up even when discouraged, then Magnolia would be satisfied even when she failed. Such as when they were having lessons in the dojo or out in the sewers, sometimes she would have to repeat a single move over and over again before it was perfected.
As with Leo, long after she should have quit, she would continue. Pushing herself until the movement was either complete or at least half- decent. Just as long as one happened, then she was pleased. Which meant that though she would dedicate herself to something, it was never at the same intensity as her brother seemed to take.
When it came to her stubbornness being a curse, well, Splinter had only to look back at the last few years and he would have all the answers that he needed. From the time that she could walk on her own, Maggie had loved to explore everything around her. She was curious about everything and so had taken to wandering from time to time. Mostly it was in the Lair, often into hard to reach places that not even Splinter could squeeze into. If that happened, then the most the rat would have to worry about was trying to find some method of retrieving the youngster. A process, depending on how 'stuck' she was, that normally took him no more than half an hour.
But that didn't include the times that Magnolia had managed to slip out of the Lair and into the sewers. If and when that happened, then Splinter was in for a world of worry. For someone as young and inexperienced as his daughter, the world beyond their home was a dangerous place. There was no telling what could happen to her. She could be hurt, become lost or even be taken away by humans if she were discovered. So while he thought well of the child's curiosity and spirit, Splinter felt that there were certain times to reign that in and so kept her on a short leash when he had to.
Not that he ever got many complaints out of Maggie, any verbal ones at least. She always protested some when he said that she was to stay in the Lair. Any child who was forced to do something they didn't like always did that. Only when she did it, Maggie used her expressions and hand gestures to convey her feelings, just as she had done from early childhood.
In her seven years of life, she had never once spoken a single, oral word. Why, no one was certain. Someone could have assumed that perhaps she was a mute, though her hisses of displeasure and yowls of pain and fright would quickly dismiss that theory. Or maybe she was a little slow, as Splinter had once feared that Donatello had been.
Yet when watching her draw or work her schoolwork, anyone could see that this was not the case. Though she was never reach the same skill of dexterity and creativity as Don, Magnolia still had a flare for certain things. She could comprehend and understand anything that was given or said to her. It was only a matter of making her own wishes clear afterward.
Like now. Even when most of her was hidden behind her brother, Splinter could see the fear in her. The way she clutched at Don's arm, the way her ears and tail were laid back in uncertainty. Those were all signs to him, just as the ones from his sons were. Which left only one last question in his mind: What had these young ones done now?
A/N: Well, this is it. Not much so far, but I hope to add more soon. Hope everyone enjoyed the read. Any comments ya have, just post as a review or e- mail. I'm willing to take any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism that I can get.
Rivalries
Prologue: A moment's peace
Splinter looked down upon the two before him with grim silence, his face a mask of utter disappointment. Never in his life had he ever felt as he did now, his heart filled with frustration and anger towards someone that he cared for. Or more rather, the two sons that sat before him on the bench.
Neither one was daring to meet his gaze at the moment and instead kept their eyes faced downward to the floor. Every now and then, they would shoot an angry glance at one another but then it was back to staring at the floor. For Splinter, who watched their exchanges, it was hard to decide what was to be done with the pair.
Both of them had been raised to know better and to act within the boundaries set down for them by their father. At least, that was what Splinter had always believed. But now, as he looked upon his two sons and recalled the events that had led to this moment, he wasn't so sure.
It was the yelling that first alerted Splinter to the problem. He had been in his study reading when he heard the voices of his sons, Raphael and Leonardo, shouting at each other from the living room. This in itself was not so unusual since it was common for the two to fight at least one a day. That much Splinter was used to, because he was the one who normally had to break them apart before things got too out of hand.
There were certain times though, like now, when he was tempted to just let them work the argument out for themselves. They were growing up after all and even if he were their father, Splinter knew that he couldn't break up every single fight. That would be like saying he didn't believe they could learn how to work out their differences on their own and he didn't want that to happen. No, sometimes it was just better to let the children handle things on their own and see how things turned out.
When he heard the crash however, Splinter immediately knew that standing back couldn't be an option this time. In a heartbeat, he had forgotten about his book and was on his feet racing for the door. The entire process only took him a few seconds but in that brief span of time, everything else in the Lair had gone eerily quiet.
This made the old rat a bit uneasy as he hurried out the study's door and down the corridor to the living room. It made him wonder just what had happened and if one of his children had been hurt in the process. It was a worry that nagged at his mind until he reached the living room and saw the results for himself.
From a single glance, it was easy to tell that most of the room was intact. For Splinter, that was a great relief, for it meant that there was less of a chance of someone being hurt. The only damage that he could tell that had been done had happened in one corner near the kitchen entrance. The place where most of his sons had gathered, easily hiding whatever had fallen and staring down at it with obvious dismay.
From where he stood, Splinter could easily make out five forms of various sizes. Three were standing in the corner where Splinter's attention was focused, their bodies clearly showing that they were nervous. The other two, their body postures showing the same tenseness and fear as the first three, stood nearby in the kitchen doorway.
The first trio, all boys, were young turtles about ten years of age and were easy to tell apart from the start, at least in their father's eyes. Nearest to the kitchen door was the eldest of Splinter's sons, Leonardo. He was easy to pick out due to his height and the blue belt that he wore around his waist. Normally, he also wore joint pads of the same color, but when not training with his Master and siblings, these were stored away in his room.
When it was time for training, Leonardo wore not only these but the blue bandanna mask that symbolized the art of combat that his Master taught him and the others. All of these were worn with pride during those periods of practice and exercise, always giving the boy a sense of purpose. He always tried to pay attention during his Master's lectures and instruction, taking everything to heart and embedding it there.
Which was perhaps the reason that this youngster was the most promising of Splinter's five pupils. Though they all practiced together and listened to what he taught them, it was usually Leonardo who caught the gist of things first. He was the one that always practiced hardest, always pushing himself harder and harder until he achieved the same effect of his father.
Quite the contrast when compared to the brother that stood next to him. Michaelangelo by name, this was the smallest and youngest of Leonardo's brothers. Like the former, he also wore a belt, a partial symbol of his heritage. Unlike Leonardo's however, Michaelangelo, or Mikey as he was commonly known among his siblings, was not blue. His was a light orange, which was a perfect match to the light mood that normally accompanied this one wherever he went.
In his family, Mikey was known as many things. He was not only the youngest son, but also the most energetic one, as well as the open heart and the constant practical joker. Basically, he was the one who was constantly seeking the next adventure and trying to get a laugh out of someone when he played one of his tricks. But he was also the one who seemed to be able to sense when someone needed a friend and always tried to help them feel better when they were upset.
These were good traits and ones that Splinter readily encouraged in his young son. He saw the value of them and knew that one day they would serve the boy well in his later life. But when it came to his training and learning the discipline of a warrior, well, there was still a great deal to be desired.
That same energy that made Mikey such a joyful person was also his weakness at times. It made him constantly in need of motion, thus making him impatient and restless when he needed to be still. Thus at times it made it easier for his brothers to overcome him in their sparring matches and so caused him to lose more times than to win.
So Splinter often spent many hours with this one, trying to find ways to center him more and get him to settle down. At times it seemed to work but during others, it appeared as a lost cause. Mikey would be himself, no matter what was tried with him unless he really wanted to go along with something.
Much like his other elder brother, Raphael, who stood near him and opposite of Leo. This one was also quite the contrast when compared with his two brothers. Where one was disciplined and the other carefree, his mood was usually sullen and withdraw. He rarely joined in on his siblings' games and activities of his own initiative. Normally, one of the others or his father had to give him the extra encouragement he needed for that task. When that occurred, Raphael would join however reluctantly and take at least part of what happened in stride. But only to a certain degree.
It was a known fact among the family that Raphael was not the most patient person. He wasn't as rash as Mikey got, but he had had his moments. Such as the times when one of his siblings, frequently Leo or Mikey, pressed him too far and Raphael lashed back out at his 'opponent.' Which was why the color of his belt, an almost crimson red, best suited his erratic daily moods as his brothers' did.
More than once Splinter had been forced to intervene in cases like that and then later administer the necessary punishments on the guilty parties. He never enjoyed having to do that, even when it was needed. The last thing he ever wanted was to harm or embarrass one of his children. In a way, it made him feel as if he were belittling not only them but himself as well.
Which was what always made it hard to look Raphael in the eye when he was about to be punished. It was there, a deep sense of rage and hurt that seemed to run deep into the boy's inner most soul. The reasons for these emotions were not completely known to the old rat, though he had his theories. Perhaps, in some strange way, Raphael could understand better than his brothers and sister the path that their lives were leading them down. Maybe he could understand that they were not like the rest of the world and never would be. A truth that Splinter had long since realized and accepted, though he had never fully expressed it to his children.
So when he saw these emotions in his son's eyes, Splinter sometimes wondered how much he did comprehend. It made him want to ease the pain that boiled inside Raphael, to find a way to free him from his personal torment. Which was why he hoped that one day the training that the boy was receiving would abate the rage and help him to find his way in the world.
For the present however, these things seemed to be farthest from Raphael's mind. Though his back was turned to his Sensei, Splinter could still see the emotions that were written in the boy's tense frame. The same ones that were echoed in the motions and facial expressions of his two brothers and partially in that of the two whom stood nearby.
This last pair, the final members of the family, had been watching the first three from the kitchen doorway as Splinter had been doing from the hallway. As with their other siblings, neither one had spoken a word since their father's arrival and showed no sign that they would any time soon. Not that the rat expected them to, since neither child was exactly known for their verbal outbursts like the others.
Closest to Leonardo, leaning against the bricked section of the opening, was the last of the four sons, Donatello. More commonly known to the others simply either as Don or Donnie, he was a quiet fellow by nature. Of course, this was only part of what made him unique among his siblings. Where his brothers preferred to focus their attentions on fighting skills and strength, he was more likely to put that same energy into his studies.
He would spend hours pouring into whatever books were available to him, seeming to soak up every bit of knowledge that he could from the words of people he would never even meet. These habits easily earned him good marks in his schooling and made him more knowledgeable than the others as well as earned him his belt color, purple for wisdom. But it was what also caused him problems at some points. His brothers, a bit put out that he always got the best grades, sometimes decided to tease Donnie about being such a bookwork and might even go as far as to exclude him from their games.
It was wrong of them to do so and Splinter often reprimanded them when that happened, but strangely, Donatello wasn't really bothered by these actions. To him, it was just his brothers' way of doing things, just like he had his own way. Besides, it gave him more time to study and to work on the projects that he made.
These projects, sometimes turning out to be useful for the family and others just to see if the idea was possible, were the real joy in his life. Using bits and pieces of junk from about the sewers, Donatello had learned to create things, to make inventions. These were, in their own way, Donatello's way of expressing himself. Whatever he made, it was always done with care and showed a reflection of the maker in the finished product.
Splinter was proud that his third son was confident in what he did and usually encouraged him to continue his explorations. Of course, it hadn't always been that way. Until a few years before, because of his somewhat unusual behavior of those days, Splinter had begun to wonder if something had been wrong with the boy.
As a toddler, Donatello had been very similar to what he was now. He had been quiet, more taken to playing by himself while the others ran around making noise and causing trouble. That was seemingly one warning that Splinter caught onto back then. The other was the lack of speech that came from Don.
While his brothers had learned to speak when they were little over a year old and had been practicing as they matured, Donatello had remained silent. He would communicate using body language, his facial expression and other gestures to convey what he wanted, but never spoke words. For some time, this frightened Splinter, who became worried that something was wrong with this son and for awhile, he worked at trying to figure out what was happening.
It wasn't until Donatello was nearly three and finally started talking that Splinter realized what was going on in the child's mind. It wasn't that his son was mentally slower than the rest or had some other problem. The only thing that was happening was that Don was simply taking his own time at reaching the same destination as the others. He just hadn't been in the same great hurry to get there as they had been.
Much the same as the one who stood behind him, clutching his arm with a grip that Splinter was certain could hurt Donatello if her claws hadn't been sheathed. This one, known as Magnolia to her father and Maggie to her brothers, was the youngest and smallest of his five students. At seven years, she was her brothers' junior by nearly three years and this difference often showed in their daily contacts.
Then again, it was only one of many contrasts that separated this child from her brothers. Not only was she younger than they, but she was also the only girl among them as well as the sole member in the family beyond Splinter himself who was not a reptile. And though she was mammalian in origin, like her Sensei, she was not a rat as he was.
Maggie was a cat, or more rather, a kitten who was on her way to becoming one. Instead of scaled skin like the boys' or a coat of brown like Splinter, Maggie's hide was an unblemished grey-white that covered every inch of her small form. Instead of fingernails, she had claws that were mostly kept sheathed but could be dangerous if she used them correctly.
While her elder brothers wore belts, joint pads, and bandana masks, she had on a simple green garment that resembled a sleeveless dress that reached just at her knees. It was one of only two that she had at any given time, either one usually in need of repair or cleaning. Both were patched from constant wear and tear and more than once had been replaced when a growth spurt hit.
That didn't happen very often and when it did, Maggie never seemed to grow very much, as her present height showed. Though seven, her tallest height to date only reached below Mikey's shoulder, who was the smallest after her. It was something that had kept her from doing the same things everyone else at times, since there was always talk of her being hurt. But it didn't keep her from at least trying when she could.
If there was any way to accurately describe the pint-sized feline, it was that she was stubborn. She rarely if ever backed down from a challenge and when she did, it was only under the most extreme circumstances. Otherwise, she would follow whatever she did out to its end, regardless of consequence.
Something that like the qualities of her brothers, could be considered both a blessing and a curse. For a blessing, Splinter knew that as long as she tried her hardest and didn't give up even when discouraged, then Magnolia would be satisfied even when she failed. Such as when they were having lessons in the dojo or out in the sewers, sometimes she would have to repeat a single move over and over again before it was perfected.
As with Leo, long after she should have quit, she would continue. Pushing herself until the movement was either complete or at least half- decent. Just as long as one happened, then she was pleased. Which meant that though she would dedicate herself to something, it was never at the same intensity as her brother seemed to take.
When it came to her stubbornness being a curse, well, Splinter had only to look back at the last few years and he would have all the answers that he needed. From the time that she could walk on her own, Maggie had loved to explore everything around her. She was curious about everything and so had taken to wandering from time to time. Mostly it was in the Lair, often into hard to reach places that not even Splinter could squeeze into. If that happened, then the most the rat would have to worry about was trying to find some method of retrieving the youngster. A process, depending on how 'stuck' she was, that normally took him no more than half an hour.
But that didn't include the times that Magnolia had managed to slip out of the Lair and into the sewers. If and when that happened, then Splinter was in for a world of worry. For someone as young and inexperienced as his daughter, the world beyond their home was a dangerous place. There was no telling what could happen to her. She could be hurt, become lost or even be taken away by humans if she were discovered. So while he thought well of the child's curiosity and spirit, Splinter felt that there were certain times to reign that in and so kept her on a short leash when he had to.
Not that he ever got many complaints out of Maggie, any verbal ones at least. She always protested some when he said that she was to stay in the Lair. Any child who was forced to do something they didn't like always did that. Only when she did it, Maggie used her expressions and hand gestures to convey her feelings, just as she had done from early childhood.
In her seven years of life, she had never once spoken a single, oral word. Why, no one was certain. Someone could have assumed that perhaps she was a mute, though her hisses of displeasure and yowls of pain and fright would quickly dismiss that theory. Or maybe she was a little slow, as Splinter had once feared that Donatello had been.
Yet when watching her draw or work her schoolwork, anyone could see that this was not the case. Though she was never reach the same skill of dexterity and creativity as Don, Magnolia still had a flare for certain things. She could comprehend and understand anything that was given or said to her. It was only a matter of making her own wishes clear afterward.
Like now. Even when most of her was hidden behind her brother, Splinter could see the fear in her. The way she clutched at Don's arm, the way her ears and tail were laid back in uncertainty. Those were all signs to him, just as the ones from his sons were. Which left only one last question in his mind: What had these young ones done now?
A/N: Well, this is it. Not much so far, but I hope to add more soon. Hope everyone enjoyed the read. Any comments ya have, just post as a review or e- mail. I'm willing to take any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism that I can get.