A/N: I own nothing. Wish I did, but, I don't. REVIEW! Thanx to those of you who do! I love ya'll. oh, and bear with me, people, bear with me.

Chapter 10

Salt and water ran down the girl's face as she aimed her arrow, ever so carefully at the far away target. Zooom! Went the arrow, speeding forward farther, farther, and…. missed. Now the salty moisture on her face was not merely sweat, but bitter tears of frustration and disappointment. She plopped down on the hard stone floor beneath her.

"Ohhh! I just can't aim the stupid thing!" She cried out to nobody in particular.

"You were a little closer that time." A high pitched voice squeaked from behind her.

"Oh yes, if that had been an enemy, I may have caused him SOME pain, by nicking his cheeks!" Rachel said, her sarcasm obvious as she pounded the ground with her bow. "I don't understand! I should be improving, I mean, I've been training for almost a month!"

"It takes time, m'lady, you will improve." Chestnut soothed her friend. Rachel shook her head in despair.

"It's hopeless, Chestnut, I was better with a sword!" This was not saying much, for the daughter of Eve had attempted to use a sword, and had been barely able to lift, much less swing one.

"I must agree, child." A kind, rumbling voice came from above. Rachel leaned back to find herself looking up into the silver face of Moonstorm. He was holding a stick. She scrambled up, turning to face him, though unable to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry, sir." She mumbled.

"I believe you would do better on a sword, but since you cannot lift one, you will have to suffice with a good strong stick." His voice was slightly teasing, and Rachel's cheeks flamed with shame as she took the long, smooth staff.

"Yes, sir." She mumbled, her voice choked with tears and shame.

"Look at me!" She turned to face him, though she was still unable to look him in the eye. "Now, hold your stick like you would a sword." She did so, grasping the end of the staff like a baseball bat. He nodded is approval. "Good, now, hold it in front of you. Good, that's an excellent defensive stance now…." Without warning he swung his own stick down towards her face. Instinct took over and her stick raised to block his blow. The hollow sound of staffs colliding filled the cave. Rachel felt The painful vibrations up and down her arms and back. "Fine." Moonstorm nodded. "You have fast reflexes." Then he frowned. "But no strength! Were this a real battle you would already be dead. You must strengthen your arms, your legs and your torso. Again!". And again and again. Whomp! Thwack! He nicked her knuckles, he jammed her finger, never stopping. And so it went for the rest of the day, he taught her twists, turns, parries, blocks, footwork. She even added some touches of her own, weaving and dodging, tripping and falling. By the time the sun set and the cave cooled, her every muscle cried out, her hands were numb, and covered in dead skin and dry blood, and her legs could hardly move. She was gasping for every precious breath, and unable to keep it for long.

"Excellent!" MoonStorm said, obviously not panting or aching or tired. "That's enough for today. Tomorrow, you will fight Chestnut." He started to trot off, then turned. "Oh, and I suggest you bathe in the pool, it will help you not to stiffen too much, so you will be in less pain tomorrow." Rachel nodded, and limped off towards the opening in the cave which led to the pool.

"You did well!" A high voice said from below and behind her. Rachel didn't even turn to look at the mouse maid.

"We shall how well see tomorrow when you and I fight!"

"Oh Daughter of Eve, just because I said you did well, do not think you can defeat me on your first bout!" Chestnut scoffed. "I don't expect you shall ever defeat me!"

"Oh, we shall see, little one, we shall see." The girl smiled as she shed almost all of her clothes, and let herself slip into the shallow part of the opening to Cauldron pool, wincing at the ice cold daggers, and eventually relaxing into the soothing massage of the water on her hot, tired limbs.

That night Rachel slept without dreaming, and awoke in the morning, barely able to move her arms, and with her legs as unsteady as a new born foal. She stretched slowly, feeling and hearing all her joints pop and crack.

"Hurry, today, you fight Chestnut!" Moon Storm's voice boomed from above, she could not tell from where. How on earth(or in Narnia) did a Centaur get so high! "Your breakfast is on the stones." Rachel smiled and nodded, she already knew exactly what breakfast was; fish, bread, and water. As she turned to view the rock on which the food normally rested, she was not disappointed.

"I wish we would eat something else!" She exclaimed, for Rachel had eaten nothing since her arrival but fish, bread, and water. She scarfed it down anyway, being both very hungry, and very nervous. She felt like her stomach was filled with slithering snakes. The Daughter of Eve did not wish to loose to the mouse maid, but knew that the chances of her winning were almost non-existent against the much more experienced warrior.

"Are you ready, my lady?" The familiar voice piped. Rachel looked down to see the tiny red-brown mouse standing before her, an even tinier stick in her hand. Rachel simply nodded, and winced as she rose. Chestnut handed her a much larger stick, and bowed. Rachel raised the stick in front of her, and the slaughter began. It was rather pathetic to watch, really, for the Daughter of Eve was obviously trying her hardest, and Chestnut was just as obviously playing with her; dancing forward, then back, bringing her stick down on Rachel's shin, drawing anger rather than blood. Soon Rachel's blows became less calculated and more desperate, harder, and angrier. Blow after blow was either dodged or easily blocked by Chestnut, over and over. Until Moonstorm finally called it off.

"Cease!" He cried. "That is enough!" Chestnut immediately ceased, but Rachel, in the heat and fog of anger, frustration, and the moment, took one last swing at the mouse maid, and made contact with a horse's flank. With the sickening thunk, Rachel remembered herself, the fog lifted and she was horrified. She dropped her stick and backed away from the two.

"Chestnut! Oh Chestnut! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh Moonstorm! Please….please." She didn't know what she was asking, she wanted to leave, to run, but couldn't. The ground seemed to be sucking at her feet, her arms, her head, she could not raise it to meet her friends' eyes.

"You got angry." A small, gentle voice said. Rachel nodded. "You must never do that in battle. Never."

"I'm so sorry." Rachel whispered. She turned her head away, looking back only when she felt the pressure of small paws on her knees. The small, gentle voice continued.

"I forgive you, my friend. Master Moonstorm has taken the blow." The mouse maid's voice shook slightly, as if she was crying with her much larger friend. A deeper voice came from above them both.

"You….made a mistake. Part of fighting is learning to make up for mistakes, are you willing?" For the first time, Rachel raised her eyes to meet his.

"Yes." She said. And she did. Moonstorm drove her harder and harder, making her swim for hours, climb the cave walls right after her swimming, she sprained her back doing that once, she had slipped. Rachel would fight him, then Chestnut, never winning either bout. She ate fish, drank water. She slept, she swam, she climbed; she changed. Eventually, fat and flab transformed into muscle, her reflexes became catlike, her sword fighting exquisite. She herself grew, in height and knowledge, she changed from the little chubby girl who almost drowned in a pool, to a warrior, trained by one of the best. She learned to love Cauldron Pool, and her mentors, who would tell her stories of Narnia, of the White Witch, and the four sovereigns who defeated her, of Swanwhite, and King Frank, of Gale, and, of course, of Aslan. Rachel was happy, but restless.

Me done! Pretty pointless huh? Sorry! Bare with me! NO! Don't go! Please?