They started by tracing letters in the dirt with sticks. It went well enough, he supposed, until Dagny decided she'd had enough. With a frustrated growl she threw her stick into the fire.
Vilkas wanted to press her, but he recognized the sign that she was done. At least for right then. He sighed, and settled himself on a log near the fire and waited. He was not going to be the one to start the conversation about how ending a lesson by throwing the instructional materials into the fire was entirely inappropriate.
Aside from the crackle of the flames on the unseasoned wood, there was silence.
Instead of acknowledging him or her tantrum, she began to practice with her sword. Her movements followed drills he recognized from the Imperial Legion; a standard set of steps and swings and parries. She moved through them fluidly before moving onto something more advanced.
And that was when the idea hit him.
"Dagny," He said, rising. "I want to try something."
She paused, and when she looked at him her gaze was confused.
He didn't know how to explain it, so instead he drew his sword as well. He used it to carve the letter "A" in the air.
Comprehension dawned on her face.
She mimicked his movements. One letter at a time, they drilled until they were both tired of the exercise.
The next day, they did it again. And again the next evening. For the better part of a week he had her draw the letters in the air with her sword.
When he was certain she remembered, he handed her a cheap blade they'd scavenged off a bandit and had her use the sword to carve the letters into the dirt. One letter at a time, she carved the alphabet. She grinned at him, triumph clear on her features.
Each night for the next several days he had her carve the alphabet in the dirt with the rusty old sword. When he was certain she could write each letter, they began with words.
"Dagny" he said as he carved her name into the earth. She smiled and did the same. Again and again. She scribbled her name in the dirt.
"Vilkas" he said, this time writing his own name. Again she copied and wrote his name.
He had to admire her perseverance; their names covered the campsite, carved into the dirt in crazy patterns, here and there. Whoever next encountered this space would be certain who had been here.
She beamed at him, and his heart swelled.
"Vilkas loves Dagny" he wrote one night after they'd learned many more words the same way. She stared at it for a long time, but couldn't make sense of the writing.
"What does that say, Vilkas?" She asked him.
"I won't tell you. You're going to have to learn to read it."
He wondered how long it would take for her to read it. He hoped it would be soon, because his admiration of her was growing with each passing day, and it was becoming harder and harder to resist simply blurting it out and declaring his love of her.
Gods but he hoped she learned to read it soon.
