Training was difficult at first, and only seemed to get harder for the new recruit.  Dilandau seemed to hold an unconcealed dislike for Riane, which she returned with a silent, suppressed vehemence that only grew.

It was not long before Riane's heart began to cry out constantly for retribution.  Reprisal against Dilandau for killing her parents, for burning her homeland, for brainwashing her brother, for forcing her to fight for a cause she did not, could not support.  Each and every blow, both mental and physical, added to her anger.

Still, some distant corner of her mind recognized the need for planning, and moreover, patience.  She could not afford to insult or harm her new commander openly for fear of her brother being injured.  Thus, every time Dilandau sentenced her to extra work, she held her tongue, biting back some barb or witticism.  Every time he struck her, she kept her face an unflinching stone mask, forbidding herself to retaliate.

But the fury and deadly loathing did not simply vanish.

Riane got rid of that extra energy the best way she knew how: by working it off. 

The Dragon Slayers' schedule was already exhausting, from sunrise to 3 hours after sunset, with two hours in-between for meals and breaks.  Riane, being the late sleeper that she was, did not train in the morning, but instead stayed up practicing her swordsmanship with a fervor well after midnight.  When she wasn't slicing viciously at shadows, wishing every one was Dilandau, the teenager lay in bed, wide awake, plotting ways to murder the object of her hatred.

As a result, most nights she only received a couple of hours or less of sleep, and when she did slumber, her mind was as still and quiet as a dead man's.

Two sleepless, and quite dreamless, weeks passed in this manner, and still she worked feverishly, fueled by hatred.

Then, one night, Riane found herself again in the meadow.  Miguel was staring intently at her with something of a rebuke in his gray-green eyes. 

"You can't keep this up forever, kiddo.  Your body is burning itself out."  He reached over to touch her arm.

Irritably, she tried to swat his hand away.  "Bullshit.  I'm fine.  My head is feeling the clearest it has in months."

"Naturally…  Which is why your nightshirt is on backwards."

Riane glanced down briefly.  "No it isn't…!"

"That's only your mental projection of your clothes.  In reality, it's backwards."

"Oh shut up."

"Really!  It's true!"

"What…so now you're spying on me?  I was wondering what you guys do for kicks around here…  Is there some sort of weird mystical orb-thingie that dead people look into?  You don't spy on me when I'm in the shower, do you?!"

He raised an eyebrow.  "Stop trying to change the subject."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

He slapped her.

"HEYY!!"

Miguel sighed.

"You DO watch, don't you?!  Good God, what the hell happened to privacy? "

He slapped her again.

"FIRST off", Miguel replied, his face flushed, "I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to evade the matter at hand.  Secondly," he paused to take a breath, "no offense or anything, but you aren't much to look at, kiddo," adding hastily, " not that I've ever peeped or anything like that…"

Riane's mouth opened to protest in outrage, but was quickly silenced by the dead boy clouting her… again.

"WOULD YOU STOP DOING THAT ALREADY?!"

To her surprise, Miguel humbly replied, "Sorry about that.  I think Lord Dilandau kind of rubbed off on me."

Riane touched her aching cheeks gingerly.  "I'm rather inclined to agree," she muttered, a small smirk creeping across her face.

"Seriously, though.  You're only hurting yourself with this preposterous work routine.  Not enough sleep, not enough nourishment…  I am telling you now that if you keep this up, you will not live to see your 16th birthday, and certainly not your idea of 'revenge' carried out."

Riane's impish face sobered rapidly at his words.  "Then what do you suggest I do?" she asked, absently tugging at blades of grass.

"Either find a less self-destructive habit, or find a way to stop hating him."

"…"

A/N:  Okay, this chapter was perhaps not the most skillfully written, but oh well.  I had to do SOMETHING to set things I want to get going in motion!  I know this stuff isn't very interesting, but it'll get better after another 2 or 3 chapters…  (I think)  And also, I'm kinda taking a stab on that part about dying in a year when you're sleep-deprived, but not being any sort of authority on health, I can't really help that.  If you are more well-informed than I am about that kind of stuff (which you probably are), please let me know.