A/N: Evening all, apologies for the wait. I've had some internet troubles, as well as getting sick, hence the delay. Sorry! Hope your all well and you enjoy this chapter (:

Warm thanks and cookies to Druid Archer, brandibuckeye, Scottjunkie and princesspomegranate for their lovely and encouraging reviews

And as always, thank you very much to my wonderful BETA princesspomegranate (:

. : Chapter 4: New Day, New Life, New Me : .

It progressed slowly from that point. All of my clothes turned into tunics and breeches and jerkins. Ones for rain, sunshine, wind, snow and every other type of weather. Mama had gone a little overboard, not that anyone dared say so. The women of our village were, more often than not, scarier than the men.

I started being put with the boys. Encouraged to join in with their games and being given chores normally reserved for the sons. I watched how they acted. How they walked, how they talked, what they talked about.

It seemed that the older they got, the sillier they got. Mama said this was normal.

Copying them didn't turn out to be all that difficult. I found more enjoyment out of their chores and games then I had out of the girls'. There was no knitting or cooking or cleaning (unless you counted cleaning weapons, horses and saddles). There were no whispers of new dresses or handsome young men, who'd be a good match for who.

I came to the conclusion that I should've been born a boy.

The worst thing was that they were, put simply, disgusting. I mean, I wasn't really fond of bathing, but boys were just terrible. And they had the most horrible discussions about girls.

I once mentioned several things I'd heard to Mama, and she'd turned pale and gasped like it was the worst thing ever. I didn't understand it. Thankfully. But I did understand when I heard the horse-breeder's middle son comment on Caelan, and how she'd turn out to be 'quite the woman'.

I enjoyed spending a good ten minutes or so making the little bastard regret that; until Dag found us and saved him that is.

Really it was his own fault. He was stupid enough to say it where I could hear him.

Training went as Dag had said it would. The first week was fairly easy, though I was sore from the running. The next week was a bit harder, more laps and knife throwing- more things to do with aim. We all learnt pretty quickly that my aim was pretty terrible. Dag even got a scar on his arm to prove it.

We moved on to swordsmanship, push-ups, sit-ups, swimming (when we didn't need to chip the ice off the stream), horsemanship, axes, daggers and every other type of weapon in the village. Each week Papa and Uncle Darian added something else, until finally we were getting up an hour before the sun, and finishing after dark.

I worked hard; relentless. I wasn't as strong as Dag was; whether that was because I was younger or a girl, I wasn't sure. But I was fast, agile. My brother, as Papa called us 'brothers', developed quite the skill with the battle axe. He was also good with a broad sword and long bow.

I was good with a light, slightly curved sword. It was easy for me to wield as it complimented my speed, Uncle had said. I eventually got better with knives, too. Arrows were still a little chancy; but at least I was hitting the damn target now.

On rare occasions when I wasn't training, Mama trapped me with her and we worked on my appearance and my manner. My cover.

She planned everything. How I'd act, who I should befriend and who I should avoid.

I thought about pointing out that she hadn't met any of the people that I would come into contact with (except Dag), but she seemed to have a description for every type of person imaginable, and lectured me lengthily on how to tell friend from foe.

"We'll leave your hair long," she said after a week long debate about it. It seemed such a simple thing to me. After all, there were only two options; long or short.

"But not too long," Aunt Ana countered, looking up from the fire place over the pot of stew. It was just us three in her tent. "About shoulder length, maybe a bit longer."

Mama nodded.

"Yes," she ran her fingers through my dark hair and sighed.

"It won't be able to be too neat. You'll need to keep a sort of wild look."

She then reached for the dagger regretfully, pausing a moment before taking to the locks.

"It doesn't bother me," I said, now at seven summers old. "To cut it, I mean."

I was trying to make her feel better.

"I know, dear girl," Mama said as the dark strands rained down to the floor with each slice. "It's such a shame though. You'll be so very beautiful, you are so very beautiful. And it all has to be hidden."

I didn't know what to say, I never did when she got like that. Mama was the most upset at turning me into a boy. I think Papa was secretly happy now that he had someone to teach, but he still got that dark look in his eyes sometimes, when anyone spoke of us leaving. Both of my parents still resented the Elders. They rarely spoke nowadays.

When Mama had finished with my hair, it was sort of straggly. It was cut at different lengths, and a lot of it hung over my face, to help hide it. I found though, amazingly, that I could still see just fine.

"There," Mama pursed her lips as she studied me. "What do you think, Ana?"

My Aunt came over and fingered a lock that hung over the corner of my left eye. "Very effective. At a glance, she would be taken as a boy."

"You'll have to learn how to not let people look, Mali," Mama said, brushing her soft fingers along my cheek. "No one can see inside. No one can know. Now, I've come up with a plan-"

This would be the part where Papa would say, with a loud exaggerated groan, 'Gods help us'.

"-To keep your secret."

I nodded, "What?"

This, so far, had been a year long debate.

"I believe that the secret will be your reputation. If people do not look, they will not see the truth; they will not see the girl that lies beneath." She said slowly. "You'll have to build yourself a reputation, Mali. You'll have to make them not want to look. And the best way to do that is to have them scared of you. People don't look at things that they're scared of."

"How will I do that?" I asked curiously. It seemed like a pretty good idea, actually.

She gave me a sorrowful look, and replied in a slow, pained voice, "What a man fears the most, is what can kill him, Mali."

I knew what she was saying then. I had to be known for one thing; killing. If they thought me blood-thirsty, like how Papa and Uncle described the native rebels, Woads, then they'd leave me well alone. For fear of their lives. It would work.

"I understand," I said quietly.

Mama nodded, and tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace, "Now, despite what we've all told you up until now, I've decided you will need a female friend."

At my confused look, she elaborated, "A girl who knows you're a girl. Dagonet will be your healer and helper; but he is male, and no matter how good he is, he won't be able to help you all the time. You will need a female friend, someone you can talk to when you start becoming a woman. But you have to be careful, Mali, you must choose this girl carefully. You must think long and hard, and it probably wouldn't hurt to get Dagonet's opinion on her either. But she must not be one of them."

I nodded again. One of them meant a Roman. They didn't say Roman now. Not when there were much better words for them. Not that I was ever planning on making friends with any of those backstabbing, slobbering, greedy, cruel, lazy, deceitful, utter arseholes. Uncle would be so proud of my descriptive progress. Mama would probably thump me. Needless to say, I kept my thoughts to myself.

Mama's suggestion made sense enough. But I was tempted to ask how I'd manage to form a friendship with anyone other than Dag, what with everyone fearing me and all; but I didn't. I'd figure it out.

At my Mother's dubious look, I added a smile to my nod and kissed her cheek.

"I will, Mama. I promise. Thank you for helping, but I'm late for training."

She sighed, defeated, and patted my cheek, "Of course, just tell them it was my fault. But, Mali?"

I turned from where I was leaving the tent, "Yeah?"

"Don't, for the love of the gods, tell your father that I said to tell someone your secret."

I grinned at her, "Wouldn't dream of it, Mama."

As I departed with a wave, she smiled and murmured softly, "That's my girl."

oOo

"What, in the name of the Gods, happened to you?"

I blinked at Dag as he stared at me, "What?"

"Your hair…it's…"

"You look bloody terrible, girl," Uncle filled in for his speechless son.

A hand subconsciously reached up to twist itself into the newly cut, messy-looking locks. I shrugged. "Mama did it. It's harder to see my face now."

"You can't go around like that," Papa said sternly. "It's in your eyes! You'll miss incoming attacks!"

"No, I won't," I protested, crossing my arms stubbornly across my chest. "I can see just fine."

"Faolan," Uncle started thoughtfully. "You remember Herris? He always had hair in his eyes."

"He died in our third year," Papa replied dryly, before turning his gaze back on me. "Malise, you go back to your Mother right now and…"

"Yes, but he died of some illness, remember? Not on the battle field," Uncle interrupted. "He was a fine fighter, never seemed to bother him."

Papa glared at him, "I'm not taking any chances with Mali and that's final."

"But Papa!" I whined. "It hides my face! No one can tell I'm a girl. And I'll get used to it, we've got lots of time to practise with it like this."

"It's too risky."

"It's more risky if we tie it back and they find out she's a girl," Uncle reasoned, clapping Papa on the shoulder in a comforting gesture. "She'll be fine, Faolan. She's your daughter, after all."

"And her being my daughter has done her a lot of good so far, hasn't it?" he retorted sarcastically, levelling me with bleak eyes. "I don't think it's a good idea, girl."

"I can manage," I insisted sternly. I reached down and picked up my sword from where it lay in the neat pile of weapons.

Picking up Dagonet's as well, I threw it to him and he caught it, by the hilt, without missing a beat, "Watch."

Setting myself in a fighting stance, feet shoulder width apart, relaxed but alert, sword grasped firmly in my hand and raised to waist level, I gestured for him to come at me.
He didn't look convinced that this was in any way a good idea, but after a stern look, Dag sighed and raised his sword obligingly.

Our forms were still far from perfect, not at all smooth or graceful or efficient like Papa and Uncle's seemed to be. But we still managed.

I let Dag have the offence, mainly to prove my point. I could still see all his launches and parried them in time. My hair was a bit of a distraction, mainly because it was new, no doubt. But I figured I'd get used to that. As Dag brought his sword down upon me, like it was an axe and I was suddenly a block of wood, I quickly brought mine up to meet it. The ring of steel clashing echoed in my ears and my arms pained with the amount of force he'd used behind the blow.

My breath came out in a 'whoosh' and as we held that position, I glared at him through the dark strands that hung down. I hoped suddenly that they didn't shield my face enough so that my glare was hidden.

"Are you trying to ram me into the ground?" I demanded hotly. "I am not a post, brother."

He grinned a little sheepishly and removed his blade, allowing me to lower mine. That position was starting to make my arms ache.

"Sorry. Didn't realise I'd used that much force."

I huffed, but did little else. I'd get him back.

We looked over at our fathers expectantly.

"Well?" I asked.

Papa sighed and Uncle tilted his head at him, whistling through his teeth.

"Faolan, one day you will have to admit it to yourself that she can probably handle this."

"Probably?" I reset my glare to him.

Was the ability to be obnoxious inheritable? I cast a glance between father and son and decided that yes, it probably was.

"Can. Can handle this," Uncle corrected himself and winked at me in amusement. "Better?"

"Yes."

"Atta girl."

Papa shook his head, "It is a wonder either of them will be prepared for this. You're the most childish teacher there is. And Malise…"

I raised my dark eyes to the ones I'd inherited them from silently.

He hesitated, "I want to tune your ears to the sounds of different weapons, that is my condition for you keeping this hair."

My brow creased. Tune my ears? I was fairly certain I knew the 'sounds of weapons' but I wasn't willing to argue with Papa about his training. I nodded my head in acceptance.

He smiled a little and said, "Very well, then."

oOo

Apparently, I was wrong when I thought I knew the sounds of weapons. Or I was wrong in the sense of how I was going to be taught to identify them.

I let out a little squeal as something whistled through the air past my right ear and landed with a thunk behind me. I was more than a little jumpy.

Strangely enough, being blindfolded while things that I knew could kill me were hurled at me made me nervous.

As I attempted to calm my heart, I scowled in the direction of the laughter.

"Squealing like a girl won't help hide that you are one," Dag cackled.

I growled, "You'll squeal like a girl when I'm done with you!"

"Now, now, children, be civil; save your anger for your enemies," Papa said, though even he sounded amused. "What was it, Mali?"

I breathed out to calm myself. Having a temper wouldn't get me anywhere, Papa had said countless times. Hotheadedness was coupled with irrationality and more often than not got one into trouble. And trouble had the ability to get one into a grave.

"An arrow."

We'd been doing this exercise for the last two weeks, and I still had reservations about it, but I was learning, oddly enough. Different weapons did make different noises as they cut through the air, making it possible to tell what was coming my way before it actually got to me. I doubted this talent would be really useful in a noisy battle, but it was a skill nonetheless. Good for ambushes, to hear the first swing, or fire. I could even hear the bowstring being pulled. It didn't work over long distances obviously- Uncle said I'd have to have ears the size of a horse's for that.

"Good," Papa said, sounding pleased now. "But Dagonet is right; you can't be squealing or carrying on like this on a battle field. That's an excellent way to get yourself killed."

I shook my head quickly, "It's the dark. I feel…I don't like not being able to see."

"We won't hit you," Uncle said, and I could just tell he was grinning again. "Our aim's better than yours."

That was it. I reached up and ripped the cloth covering my eyes away and blinked a few times to get my eyes to adjust to the light again. When they had, I gave no warning to my charge and tackled my very surprised looking tutor to the ground.

A/N: (: The chapters should, if they go the way I'm planning it, skip along now. The story will be events and such through the Knight's servitude. Otherwise it would be a very, very, very long story. Lol.

I hope you enjoyed reading this one (: I can't say when the next one will be up at this time, but I hope it won't be much longer then a week. See how everything goes I suppose.

I'd love to hear what you thought, so please review!

~Meg xx