AN - I'm back! Sorry for the wait, but here you go. The story will be moving a little slow for now — I don't want to rush into the action and skip all the buildup, plus this way there's more content. Anyways, tell me what you think.
With her parents no longer a problem, and with only minimal work to do around the farm, Judy was able to devote almost all of her time to training. She envisioned long hours of beating up straw dummies, practicing swordplay, and refining her paw-to-paw combat skills with more advanced techniques. What she got, however, was something very different.
"I have to do bookwork?" she protested, looking up from the stack of tomes Ingvar had just dropped in front of her.
"What's the problem?" the old wolf queried, lifting a brow. "Didn't your parents teach you how to read?"
"Of course they did," she responded, "but... I thought we'd be doing something more... exciting."
"Exciting?" he repeated, face darkening. "In my line of work, exciting gets you killed. There's no point disciplining the body unless you discipline the mind as well, my young apprentice, and swords are worse than useless if you don't know when to use them. And when not to. Therefore — bookwork."
Turning away, he paced in front of her where she sat at the small desk. "During our time together, I will be instructing you in the many crafts any traveler requires if they wish to pass safely through the many wilds of this realm. Tracking. Fishing. Ropecraft. How to read the skies and the ground, so you always know where you are and where you're headed."
"You will also learn to navigate the urban jungle. How to strike a bargain, to look in a mammal's face and see how far they can be pushed. How to understand the flow of the mob. How to identify threats and opportunities in any situation."
"So what you told my parents wasn't even a lie," Judy said with a sinking feeling.
"I never lie," the wolf said with a straight face. "At least, only when I need to." He resumed his pacing.
"You have potential; that much I can see, but it's up to you what you do with it. Your training with me will be the hardest thing you've ever experienced. You may decide it's too difficult, and give up."
"Never!" Judy shouted, leaping up from her seat.
He ignored her interjection and continued. "I have taken apprentices before, and many of them — indeed, most — couldn't handle it. Do you think you have what so many others, mammals ten times your size and a hundred times your weight, did not?"
"Ab-so-lute-ly," she said fiercely. "I don't care how hard it is. I've waited my whole life for this, and even if I have to fight off a posse of elephants with my bare hands, I will pass."
"That's the spirit," he said with the ghost of a smile. "Now get to your bookwork. You have two days to read all of those." With that, he pushed her out the door, still holding her books. Judy looked down in dismay at the stack of volumes she clutched in her paws, wondering how she was ever going to finish in time.
By reading practically nonstop, with only occasional breaks to sleep and eat, Judy closed the cover of the last book just a few hours before the deadline. While certainly no easy read, the volumes were far less dull than she had feared. They contained wagonloads of information on dueling, melee fighting, and interesting maneuvers, as well as far more. There were guides for how to take on giant snakes, what to do when faced with a roc, and how to deal with scorpions. There were notes on the behavior of cockatrices, diagrams on different types of sea serpents, and speculations about even more terrible creatures. Some had been crossed out in inks of mysterious colors, or scribled over with strange symbols.
Even the more mundane ones, like the book on medicinal herbs, contained useful information. There were all sorts of poultices and treatments she had never heard of, some of which required extremely exotic ingredients. One book held a list of things that came from mammals themselves! There she saw possible uses for rhino horn, tiger claws, and bits of leopard fur. Though she knew none of those things were vital parts of a mammal, and certainly didn't require any bloodshed to remove, it made her feel uneasy. That book in particular had been a little disturbing, and she had hurried through it as fast as she could.
The final book had been a welcome change. Instead of cramped, wavering pawwriting, she saw intricate maps of the known world. There were only a few blank spots — most of the pages were taken up with detailed drawings of rivers, forests, and mountains. While fascinating, showing as they did so many places to which she'd never been, with exciting names, the maps were also a bit dubious in their accuracy.
Rubbing her tired eyes, she lay down for a nap, before quickly standing up again. What if she was late? He might think she had given up, and never let her come back. Her whole life would be over before it had even begun!
Suddenly too nervous to rest, she walked out and into the sunlight, only to be practically bowled over by a pair of kits hurtling down the path, the one behind chasing frantically after the other. The pursuer broke off to accost Judy, who recognized the kit as one of her much younger sisters. "Phillip took my dragon!" the kit cried, eyes wet and face tight with anger.
Phillip had stopped once he saw he was no longer being followed, and slunk back to Judy with the stuffed toy clutched in his paw, looking sullenly defiant. "Janie's just being silly over some old toy. Besides, girls shouldn't have dragons. Cool stuff like swords and dragons is for boys."
"You take that back!" Janie shouted, paws balled into fists.
Judy stepped in before things could get violent, trying to settle the indignation she felt herself over Phillip's comments.
"Phillip," she said firmly, "give that back to Janie right now. It's not yours, and you know better than to take things that don't belong to you. And you know better than to say things like that. If Janie wants to play with dragons, you can't tell her not to. What if I said that you could only play with dolls, and had to wear ribbons on your ears all the time?"
"No!" he exclaimed vehemently, a look of horror stamped upon his features, while at the same time Janie squealed excitedly, "Yes!"
"See what I mean?" Judy asked, feeling like she was getting somewhere. "Why should anyone else get to tell you what to do? As long as they're not Mom or Dad, that is," she added hastily, spotting the danger just in time. "You're responsible for your own life. And nobody, not even Mom or Dad, can tell you what you should like or not. You want to not wear ribbons, and nobody else has the right to decide that for you. If Janie wants to like dragons, then, she can, and no one can tell her not to."
Both kits were looking almost dizzy at the prospect of so much independence, or maybe they just didn't understand what she was saying at all. Judy sighed mentally and leaned down so she was at eye level with the two.
"The bottom line is, don't take things that don't belong to you," she said, shooting Phillip a chilly glare, "and never tell anyone else they can't be whatever they want to be. So if I hear you say anything else about dragons being for boys, Phillip, I'll... I'll make you wear ribbons for a whole week."
Stricken mute by the indescribable horror of this prospect, Phillip stared at her in terror before whirling around and pelting down the path as fast as he could go. Judy watched him, feeling both satisfied and guilty, before her attention was grabbed by a sound from beside her.
"Judy?" Janie asked hesitantly. "Dragons aren't just for boys, right? It's only, that's what everyone says. Even the other girls don't want to play dragons. They just want to play with dolls and brush their fur all the time, and they say I'm funny 'cause I don't, they say boys are the only ones who get to do cool things, and I know not to listen to Phillip but everybody, even Mom and Dad say that, so how can they all be wrong? And I get so mad," she continued, blinking away hot tears, "but when I try to say how unfair it is they just say I'm a kit, and a girl, and I should just learn that that's how things are..." She was too choked up to continue.
Aghast, Judy dropped to her knees and embraced the small bunny, sobbing into her chest. "It doesn't matter what anybody says," she told Janie fiercely. "They don't get to say what you can do or not. It's what I told both of you just now. Even Mom and Dad don't know everything. How can they know what you want better than you do? You're the only person who can decide that."
Her tears were trailing off now, interrupted by an occasional hitch in her breathing, but she pulled back and looked up at Judy. "Really?" she said faintly, looking painfully hopeful. "You're not just saying that?"
"Of course I'm not! I wouldn't lie to you," Judy replied earnestly. "Nobody has the right to make you do something with your life that you don't want to, and nobody has the right to tell you — who — you — are," she finished, poking Janie in the ribs on each final word. The smaller rabbit giggled and laughed, her frown vanishing as Judy launched a tickling assault.
"Thanks, Judy," she said after a little while.
"You don't need to thank me at all," Judy replied. "It's what sisters are supposed to do. And if anybody gives you any trouble, just tell me, and I'll beat them up for you."
"Gosh! I bet you could," Janie said, noticing for the first time the effects of Judy's exercise regimen. "Are you going to do something cool when you grow up, then? Are you going to become a knight in armor and fight dragons?" Her eyes grew wide at the thought of this possibility.
"Not in armor, silly," Judy said. "But... yes, I am. And I won't fight dragons, probably. I'll fight bullies. Anyone who tries to hurt somebody else, especially if that mammal is smaller than them. Everyone thinks us rabbits are weak and defenseless, so they don't take us seriously, and I'll watch for rabbits especially, but I'll protect anyone who needs help."
"Even if they're a predator? Like... a weasel, or a fox or something? Dad says you can't trust foxes."
"Even if they're a predator," Judy said firmly, although privately she harbored doubts about any predator either needing or wanting assistance from a bite-size rabbit. "And don't assume that foxes are untrustworthy just because Dad says so. Remember, he said you shouldn't play with dragons, so he doesn't know everything. Have you ever even met a fox?"
The little kit shook her head solemnly.
"Well, I met one once, a few years ago. He wasn't very nice, but that was just him - not because of his species. I do know a wolf, and he's not mean or vicious like you might think," Judy informed her sister. "He's just old and cranky."
Janie stifled a giggle, before saying, "Is that the wolf who came over the other day? Mom said he was very polite, but Dad said something real quiet and Mom had to whack him."
"That was him," Judy replied, "and he can be polite when he wants to be. Oh, no!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "I'm supposed to meet him today! I can't be late – surely it wasn't that long — oh, my books! Goodbye, Janie," she said hurriedly as she rose. "I promise we'll talk again sometime, but I really have to go now. I'll see you around!" With that, she turned tail and sprinted to get her books, then towards Ingvar's hut.
Desperately wishing someone would devise an easier way to keep track of time than the sun (maybe you could even carry it around with you! wouldn't that be wonderful) Judy walked up to the rough shack with trepidation. Her encounter with Janie and Phillip hadn't seemed that long, but the passage of shadows suggested differently. She knocked three times. Just like the first time, the door was yanked open immediately after she pulled her paw away, Ingvar standing in the doorway. This time, however, he beckoned her inside curtly. She followed him in, closing the door behind her, readying herself for anything.
"Well," he said, glancing at the stack of tomes she'd dropped onto the desk, "how many of those did you read?"
"All of them," Judy said promptly.
His eyebrows rose. "Really," he said. "Then perhaps you can tell me what Proudfoot the Hearty says about the best way to kill a crocodile."
"Ermm..." Judy stammered, thinking frantically, "to... stake out some chickens and lure it onto dry land, where it should immediately be tied down with ropes and nets, so as to keep it from escaping or attacking your party. Its hide is too tough to pierce with swords or arrows, so you should have some very large mammals with pikes or axes standing by to chop off its head. By no means should you try and confront it in the water, or on marshy terrain without solid ground. Never attempt to kill more than one at once, or at any time when there might be others in the area, because one or more could come out of the water while you were distracted and fall on you from behind."
"Very good," her teacher responded after a moment's pause. A strange expression was on his face. "Tell me, what would I get if I mixed powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?"
"A powerful sleeping potion, usually known as the Draught of Living Death," Judy answered. "But it's very difficult to make, even though there are only two ingredients, and the antidote is far more complicated."
"What are the advantages and disadvantages of using a ball and chain over a mace?"
"It has a lot more reach, and it has more uses. It can strike over an enemy's shield, or wrap around their weapon, or be used to trip them. If wielded properly, it can give much more speed and power in a swing, but it's difficult to master and even more difficult to use comfortably. Only the largest mammals would find it a better alternative than a sword or spear. Compared to a mace, it's more challenging, more deadly, and a lot more weight."
"What did Nedric Bumblewort prescribe as the best remedy for fever?"
"Powdered snake scales mixed with mint, rosemary, and ground borble root," she recited quickly. "But as far as I know, neither snake scales nor rosemary have any effect on illnesses, and mint is just good for cooling down overheated mammals. The borble root would work fine by itself, or with some pince leaves. There doesn't seem to be any need for those extra ingredients."
"Is that so," Ingvar said, looking at her keenly. "How much do you know about medicine, and where did you learn?"
"My mother makes sure we all, especially the does, receive a little instruction in the essential remedies," his protege replied. "She was a big supporter of natural ingredients — using things you could find in an herb garden, or any forest. It's a lot like cooking. That we received a lot more instruction on."
He said nothing for long enough to make Judy wonder whether she had somehow done something wrong, and what it had been. In the midst of anxiously replaying the conversation in her mind, she was interrupted by Ingvar saying, "I didn't expect you to finish all those books." Her head jerked around to him.
"I didn't expect that you would be able to read so much so quickly, or that you would remember anything if you did. I didn't think you would understand the concepts behind the text. I certainly didn't anticipate your having any relevant skills or experience, especially in medicine. Not only are you intelligent, you're also one of the only pupils I've seen who's known how to to cook before showing up here, believe it or not. Too many apprentices — never mine, of course — are musclebound idiots with only half a brain, or pampered dandies who could never make it in the real world. Far too few know anything beyond swinging a sword or downing a tankard."
Taken aback, Judy could only stare as the wolf continued.
"Don't think I'm telling you this because I'm impressed, and don't go getting a big head either. The only reason I'm saying this is to let you know that you're marginally better than the average incompetent. Which isn't to say that you're any good — only that you're not as completely hopeless."
Now she wasn't sure whether to feel offended or grateful. She was edging towards the former.
"It's important that you know this," her teacher went on. "Most of the apprentices I've watched in their training are too stupid to know that they're worthless. Sometimes, they even end up succeeding through sheer stubbornness and dumb luck. You're not like them. I look at you and I can see that... but I also see that you don't know how special you are."
He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead, before resuming.
"Normally I wouldn't say this to any other apprentice. Both because it wouldn't be true, and because they wouldn't need to hear it. In your case, both apply. The truth is that you have potential. Maybe even more than I did, at your age. With training and experience, you could become a champion among champions. And yet I know that if I don't tell you this, you might give up. Yes, yes, you say you won't," he said, raising a paw to forestall her. "But this training will be the hardest thing you've ever experienced. I won't hold back, because I know how great you can be, and I'd never forgive myself if I let a student of your caliber go to waste. That's why I'm bothering to tell you all this. You need to remember that you can be great, far greater than you know. Even when you most want to quit, to go home and abandon your dream, you have to remember that I told you not to."
He leaned forward, eyes boring into her. "Because not only will I never forgive myself if I don't do my utmost to test you, I will never forgive you if you fail to live up to what I know you can be."
Eyes wide, mind a storm of questions and emotions, Judy tried to process everything Ingvar had said. Never had anybody told her that she had the potential to be a champion. She spoke up, suddenly feeling the weight of his expectations settle on her shoulders like a millstone. "Th-thank you, sir. I... I promise I won't let you down."
He snorted and flicked an ear irritably. "You had better not," he growled. "You won't be getting another pep talk like this for quite a while, if ever, so don't forget it. No matter what I say to you after this day — know that I'll only be looking to test you. I'll make it as hard as I can, but I know you can do it, if you push yourself to your limits. Now, let's get back to the reading I assigned you. I'm not at all satisfied with your analyses, and your suggestion on how to improve official remedies is one of the more impudent things I've had the displeasure of witnessing in all my years as a teacher. To start with, your assumption that pikemammals are just as good as axemammals for dispatching an alligator is fatally flawed, if we remember the case of Burron and Hodges..."
Smiling on the inside, Judy listened to her tutor's diatribe on the merits of different weapons against an alligator. Though she was listening intently, part of her mind was still occupied dancing up and down, singing a happy tune.
Someone believes in me.
The following days were, as Ingvar promised, tough. The following weeks, even more so. As weeks bled into months, Judy found herself tested beyond whatever she had imagined, and far more than she could have ever tested herself.
Ingvar carried out his curriculum with religious fervor, never slackening in his efforts. He piled her high with books of all kinds, on every possible subject, and was waiting the moment she finished to quiz her maniacally on everything she'd learned. His questions ranged from examining her fundamental knowledge of the concept, to the intricate aspects of that particular field and its leaders (past and present), to the most trivial details about the author, their notable deeds, family history, and favorite food.
They covered history, geography, politics, philosophy, etymology, foreign languages, elementary psychology and sociology — if it ended with -ology, chances are Judy found herself forced to study it. They went over math and science, paying special attention to trigonometry and calculus, while discussing current scientific advancements and breakthroughs. Every night, she spent hours poring over treatises and dissertations from long-dead scholars, while also analyzing old war diaries and expedition logs from far-off lands. It was grueling work, and after long hours flipping through dusty pages, trying to read the faded script of some departed author, she occasionally found herself going into a trance, mentally exhausted.
It was extremely difficult, made more so by the fact that she had never expected to spend much time reading. Though her parents kept a large library, she rarely went inside, or bothered to open any of the books. She preferred to spend her time roughhousing with other kits, or as she got older, training in secret.
Yet it was also very rewarding. For all the times she dozed off while reading a particularly dreary paragraph, there were just as many times she stayed up late, reading by candlelight, entranced by some adventurer's account of a battle with pirates or exploration of a lost city. Those books, in contrast to the massive bricks she was stuck with in other subjects, were invitingly slim, and packed with leaves of loose paper on which maps, diagrams, and notations had been carelessly scrawled. Their pages were often stained with blood, oil, or colorful inks, and they occasionally featured scorch marks or exciting gashes.
Where many of her rarer books, and especially the largest ones, were borrowed from her parents' library, these books always came from Ingvar's personal collection, although she never saw anything she was sure was written by him. She was sure he must have been some kind of hero back in his day, despite the fact that he never talked about his past. She respected him to much to pry, but she wondered.
Of course, books were by far the only thing with which Judy occupied herself. The very day after Ingvar's "pep talk," as he called, it he told her to stop her morning exercises. These, he said, would be replaced by a new and far more demanding regimen under his supervision. It entailed not just running, but all kinds of push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and chin-ups, weightlifting, and swimming, as well as intense endurance activities designed to boost her stamina and increase her muscle density.
"You'll see some mammals who have muscles bulging out of their ears, with arms bigger than your whole body and legs as big as me," Ingvar told her, "but all they're doing is loading themselves down with extra meat. It makes them slow and heavy. Besides, you're a rabbit. You couldn't have that kind of a body even if you tried — which you shouldn't. You need to be tough and wiry. Instead of building your body up, you build it down, making your muscles more powerful without getting any bigger. It'll make you heavier than you look, but a whole lot stronger too, and mammals will be likely to underestimate you. At least, they will if you know what you're doing," he said gruffly, his tone reverting back to that of the grouchy instructor. "I want to see all of those again, this time done right."
Ingvar didn't hide his contempt for traditional workouts, saying they were a waste of time. He spent only a week on the basic exercises before moving on to those that were more advanced, like vertical push-ups. He spent a great deal of time helping her with balance, coordination, and reflexes. He taught her gymnastics, diving, rock climbing, and other things. She learned how to climb ropes upside down, going in both directions, and how to run only on her front paws. She spent a lot of time inverted, as a matter of fact. Ingvar explained that most mammals were limited more by themselves than their surroundings, and that she should be able to react smoothly in any situation. At least it stopped her from throwing up after too long suspended in midair.
Unfortunately for her, they wouldn't get to the high-level stuff like lockpicking, paw-to-paw combat, or baking for quite a while (Judy wasn't sure if he was kidding about the baking part) and even after those, there was still the entire world of armed combat to explore. Swords, spears, axes, bolas... She was alternately discouraged and thrilled at the thought of how much she had yet to learn.
Of course, she couldn't spend too much time dreaming about the future. Ingvar worked her hard, mentally and physically. True, she was learning a lot, and she was becoming more fit than she ever had been, but the toll was significant. She went to bed every day feeling half-dead, but when she woke up, it was as almost as if she had never gone to sleep at all. Though Ingvar told her how important it was to be well-rested, she couldn't bear the thought of turning in when there were still books to be read and analyses to be made, or of showing up the next day unprepared. She was still happy to learn, and she would never even consider quitting, but she was pushing herself too far.
Although her performance remained excellent, she became more tired during the day, until at last — despite her best effort to stay awake — she fell asleep in the middle of a discussion about natural mammal weaponry.
"Apprentice!" the wolf barked at her. She came awake with a start, panicked. "I'm sorry, sir! I just —"
"I think we'll end the lesson early today," he said, cutting her off. "And take the day off for yourself tomorrow. Get some rest." When she tried to protest, he stared her down until she backed out the door, anxiety and relief mixed across her features.
As the door closed behind her, Ingvar frowned and sat down, looking inward. He knew what was going on, and he knew he couldn't let it continue.
Something must be done, he thought to himself.
AN - And that's it! I really appreciate the feedback from the first chapter — you guys are great! — so let me know what you think. I don't always have time to write every day, so this may end up coming out in longer chapters that are farther apart, I guess we'll see. Also, there's an easter egg in this chapter. A little obvious, but I wanted to include it. Anyways, leave a review to tell me how you feel about the story so far. :)