AN: This chapter grew legs and ran away from me completely. By the time I was done I couldn't help but think "Mother of God" in awe while at the same time thinking "Oh God What have I done?" in terror. I also want to thank my reviewers and all those that have favorited and followed this story. But a special thank you and shout-out is required, I do so believe. I want to thank Maverick14th who, since I brought this wee plot bunny up in "Leopard Spots", has been an excellent sounding board and idea contributor. So I want to thank them for that, and hope they continue being supportive. Give them a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!

"Oh 'Nio. Wake up 'Nio." Tony groaned in his sleep, batting uselessly at the air. "Come on 'Nio. You promised to take the cart down to the airstrip and pick up Alistair's shipment of steel." Tony groaned again, though he pulled himself out of his bed and rubbed his eyes. He froze when giggling reached his ears and he pulled his hands away in order to see where the noise was coming from.

Standing across the room from him, standing in front of the screen that covered her own bed, was Anatassia, who was giggling at him and smiling. Confused, Tony looked down and noticed he was dressed only in a pair of soft cotton pajamas with reindeer across them. He blushed brightly and stuck his tongue out at the girl across from him.

"Shut up, 'Tassa. What are you, fourteen or four?" He hissed, still blushing brightly as he strode over to the trunk at the foot of the bunk beds he and Brad shared, flipping it open and pulling out a white tunic and pants. Anatassia only laughed at him harder as he tried to walk with dignity over to the basin of water that sat near the fireplace.

The water was still hot, which meant the roomkeepers had just filled it not too long ago. This was confirmed for him when he noticed that, across the room, Robert was still asleep in his bed and, on the top bunk of the set that Tony just rolled out of, Brad was dead to the world. Once he was done scrubbing his face, Anatassia disappeared behind the screen that separated her bed from the rest of the room, and Tony took the chance to step out of his pajama bottoms and pull on his tunic and pants.

He grabbed a pair of socks and his boots from next to the foot locker and sat at one of the benches that resided next to the table that took up the middle of the room. Normally, during the day when he was inside, Tony wore nothing on his feet. The only time he wore boots was during weapons training, free-running training and when he was working the stables or with his blacksmithing mentor, Alistair, in the forge.

One the bench across the tables, Anatassia was just finishing up and, when both were ready, they made for the doors. Tony stopped in the doorway though, looking back at the fire. It was early spring, and the stone rooms usually required a fire at all times still. It was Sunday, the one day the students usually slept in and, if Tony didn't bank the coals around the fire, it might go out before the other two occupants of the room awoke to feed the flames.

"Come on, 'Nio. Robert's going to wake up in half an hour, remember? He's going fishing with his mentor." Tony nodded in remembrance and followed his companion down the hall and into the antechamber before turning left and going down the passage next to the one they'd just come out of. This passage opened up into the great hall. The great hall was massive, filled with tables and connected to it were the kitchens.

Waiting for them near the buffet, which was just being filled with food for breakfast, were Hatsuharu and Alexander, both holding a basket and smiling. Today would be the first day that both Tony and Anatassia made a solo run down to airstrip. They'd made the trip before with their mentors or with whoever they were picking up supplies for but, with their fifteenth birthdays fast approaching for both, Tony's in May and Anatassia's in June, their mentor's were cutting them major slack now.

Alexander handed Tony his basket and nodded. "Now, Lille Valpen, it's chilled out, so you might want to take your cloak with you and the bears have been spotted nearby, so I want you to check out a Winchester from the armory, just in case. The cooks packed you breakfast and lunch, and you'll be home in time for dinner." Tony nodded sharply and clasped hands with his mentor once before he and Anatassia stepped back and went back up the passage.

They went down the next passage over and passed all of the classrooms and training rooms, the former of which would lie empty for the day, into the armory beyond, which was manned twenty-four/seven, in case someone was called out on assignment or came back from one. Tony and Anatassia both checked out a .30-06 and a box of ammo from the woman behind the counter before they turned around again and left.

This time, when they reached the anteroom, they kept going up until they reached the secret entry to the hunting lodge that acted as a cover for the den. Neither were terribly surprised when they saw an assassin sitting on the couch, asleep with his dog mask on his lap, clutching his sword like it was a life-line.

Sunvaar Dog, or Brett Hatel, was a young assassin who'd retired, spent four years away, and then come back and resumed his job. He was well-liked among both the novices and the assassins and he'd been on assignment only the night before. Tony pulled an afghan from the back of the couch and draped it over the sleeping assassin before he and Anatassia trotted out the door.

The air was pleasant and only a slight breeze moved the air around them as they crossed the fields that spanned to the left of the hunting lodge. A quarter mile away, hidden behind a line of trees were two buildings. One was the size of a small house, and a constant stream of smoke billowed out of it. Tony knew that, inside, the walls were reinforced with stone and the floor was bare. This was the forge, where Tony spent most of his Saturdays and some of his evenings.

Across from it was a massive building, long and low with cream walls and a red roof. This was the stables for the horses, an arena and the tack room. This was their destination. Out front were two wagons, similar to the ones they'd ridden on the first day they came to the den, nearly six years ago. These were slightly bigger and the sides didn't come up as high as the ones they used to transport people. Instead of a back panel, there were a few bungee cords to act as the backing.

Tony left his rifle, loaded and on safety, in a little niche on the footboard where the driver sat and slipped his ammo box and basket into the small box where the second seat would have gone at the back of the wagon box. Once that was done, he turned towards Anatassia, who'd set up her wagon in a similar manner. "I'm going to take Odin and Zeus. Who are you taking?" He asked. Anatassia seemed to think about it for a minute before she shrugged.

"Probably Apollo. I'm only picking up a small load of medicine and supplies, so I don't need a full team." Tony nodded and headed into the stables, breathing in the smell of warm hay and grain. The stables were filled with the massive Shire horses they used to pull the wagons, the small riding mounts many of the assassin's owned and the oxen they used for exceptionally heavy loads. Beyond that was a large, sectioned off area of the stables, where the horse tack was kept and, beyond that, the equestrian arena and the entrance to the massive fields.

Tony's own horse, a four-year-old grullo colored Irish Sport Horse stallion, whom he'd named Achilles, was out in the pastures today, but Tony stopped at his stall anyway to grab the spare cloak he kept there before heading back into the tack room. He moved down the rows of pleasant-smelling leather until he came to the hooks the held Odin and Zeus' harnesses. He pulled those down and hefted them onto his shoulders before moving into the arena, where there was a stepping block.

On the way back through the tack room he grabbed two lead ropes and then made his way down the halls to where the Shire horses were kept, on the right side of the big building, down the second hallway. He stopped in the middle of two stalls and smiled brightly. "Good morning, Odin, Zeus. How are we this morning?" He asked.

Odin and Zeus were twins, both massive at over six and a half feet at the tops of their shoulders, and chestnut in color. They were one of the older tandem teams the Order used. Between them, they could pull well over three tons, though all they were pulling today was two tons. Tony slid the door to Odin's stall open first and leaned up on his tiptoes to clip the lead rope to the ring on the side of his halter.

Odin followed him placidly down the halls and then through the roundabout door that led a path around the tack room and into the arena. He tied Odin to the post, climbed up the block and made quick work of harnessing the massive horse. He'd been working in the stables since he was nine, learning about all the horses that made their homes there and how to care for them. Harnessing Odin was child's play at this point.

Once Odin was ready Tony lead him outside and hooked him to the left side of the wagon he was using for the rest of the day. On his way back inside to get Zeus, Odin under the watch of a stable hand who'd come to do chores, he saw Anatassia slipping out of one the horse stalls in the center aisle. "How's Loreena? She feeling any better?" He asked.

Anatassia nodded. "Phil says she'll be fit to ride again in a week. She's tired this morning though." Tony nodded and Anatassia followed him over to the aisle where Tony lead Zeus out and into the arena. By the time he had Zeus ready to go and he was easing himself up into the wagon, Anatassia had her own wagon ready. Both smiled and nodded and Tony took up the reins of his horses and snapped them twice. "Giddap!" He shouted and both horses leaned forward, the wagon starting with a lurch before they set a nice pace down the mountain path.

Tony remembered back to the day he'd first arrived and couldn't help but smile. The path was not nearly as steep as the mentor had told them and Tony smiled warmly as he remembered the rest of that day.

Tony's overwhelmed when the mentor's lead them down the farthest path to the right, explaining that this path leads to the dorms and apartments of the assassins and novices. After a short while of walking, they stop in front of a group of four opened doors. "Alright. Pick your roommates and remember: These are your roommates until you're fifteen, at least."

For Tony and his friends, it was no complicated problem to figure out who was rooming with who. Tony, Brad, Robert and Anatassia stood in a tight group in front of one of the open doors, smiling brightly at their mentors, who were shaking their heads in fond exasperation. "Everyone got roommates? Good, pick a dorm and take your bags inside. You have an hour to get unpacked, changed into your new clothes and get settled."

The students nodded grabbed up their bags before moving into the rooms. Tony gaped. The rooms themselves were massive in size. Directly across from them was a fireplace, which crackled merrily. Dominating the wall to the left of the entrance was a set of bunk beds, with a large, dark trunk on both ends. Tucked up near the door on the right side was a bed and, down on the same wall, was another bed.

A weapons rack sat between the bed on the right side and the fireplace and a wash basin separated the bunks and the fireplace. Anatassia choose the bed near the fireplace, Robert the one near the door and between himself and Brad, both quickly decided which bunks they were going to have.

Tony chose the bottom bunk and heaved his duffel and backpack onto the mattress before he unzipped them both and opened the footlocker nearest the fireplace. Inside were folded up tunics and pants, made of white linen like they'd seen the other novices wearing earlier. There were also pairs of socks rolled on top. Tony pulled these out and lay them all on top of the sheets and pillows that were stacked at the foot of his bunk.

He stashed all of the clothes from his duffel into the bottom of the trunk, placed his books and photos on top of those and then replaced all of the clothes besides a single pair over that. He snapped the footlocker shut and then went about making his bed. The sheets and blankets were thick and warm and there were two thick pillows, which he placed on the end of the bunk facing the door. The blanket his mother had left him went on the bed as well.

While he'd been unpacking, Hatsuharu had brought in a large screen to wrap around Anatassia's bed and she was disappearing behind it now, a change of clothes in hand. Tony and the other two boys took the chance to change as well and Tony had to admit that the light linen felt nice, as well as being far more comfortable to move around in. He pulled on a pair of socks and left the shoes he'd been wearing by his footlocker. The others were dressed now as well and Anatassia was slipping from behind her screen, smiling at them.

With more than forty minutes to spare, the small group of novices slid into the benches at their table, the candles already lit and two on both sides, falling into easy conversation.

In the fall of Tony's ninth year, Alistair found Tony in the forge, commenting on the dimensions of one of the projects one of his older apprentices was working on. He'd stood in the entry of the forge and listened as the young novice rattled off numbers and equations, and the older novices were listening because everything Tony was saying was absolutely right.

Alistair cleared his throat and Tony turned around, face flushing guiltily. He wasn't supposed to be in the forge without his mentor's permission. Alistair smiled charmingly. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young. His black hair was smattered with gray, as was his goatee, and his earthen green eyes sparkled with humor. "Calm down kid. I won't tattle on you. Let's have a conversation though." He said, holding his arm out and motioning the young novice into the next room, where it was a cooler. This was where weapons were sharpened and finishing touches were put on other projects.

Before Alistair closed the door though, one of his apprentices caught his attention. "That kid is brilliant, Old Man Ali. Can we keep him?" She asked and Alistair smiled brightly before snorting in laughter. The apprentice returned to her work and Alistair vanished into the second room, where Tony was sitting at one of the grinding stones, staring at his feet. Alistair was quiet a moment before he spoke.

"You know, I'm always looking for new apprentices." Tony's head shot up and looked about to protest before Alistair held up his hand and spoke again. "Tony, everyone know's you're a genius. You're the son of Howard Stark, stars above. I know that, even working in the stables and doing your work from class and practicing your skills isn't giving you enough to think about. With you as an apprentice in the forge, it'll give you a chance to do what you do best. Assemble things with your hands. You like that kind of work, I can tell." He said.

Tony was silent and contemplative before he answered. "Can I think about it?" He asked and alistair nodded. The young novice hopped to his feet and left the forge, scampering out into the chill canadian air.

A week later, Tony came back to the forge, smiling brightly. From that day forth, he was considered one of Alistair's brightest apprentices and first in line to take over for Alistair as the Grand Master Blacksmith once his training was complete.

On the day of Tony's tenth birthday, Alexander didn't even let him go to his morning classes. Instead, as soon as breakfast was finished, Alexander fastened a blindfold around Tony's head and carefully led his student up and out of the den and into what Tony recognized by smell and sound as the stable. Tony was confused. He often spent his mornings or afternoons that weren't devoted to his other classes in the forge or the stables, so why all the cloak and dagger getting him there?

Tony patiently let himself be led to what felt like the arena before he felt Alexander's hands on his shoulders. "I have a surprise for you, Lille Valpen." He said and Tony could hear the barely suppressed excitement in his mentor's voice. There was the sound of silk on silk and the blindfold came away and Tony blinked. And then smiled in utter glee.

Before him, standing on spindly legs and wobbling about, was a young colt of no more than a few months old. It's dark blue-gray color and build made it stand out against the bright yellow sawdust that covered the ground of the arena and Tony glanced up at his mentor, hazel eyes wide. "Is that...?" He trailed off, almost hesitant to ask and Alexander nodded.

"He's yours, Tony. He's four months old, just old enough to be weaned. He's Shasta's foal." Tony grinned brighter at that. Shasta was a gentle, older horse, an Irish Sport Horse, that Tony had been trained with until he was used to riding. Alexander pushed him forward gently and Tony took a few cautious steps towards the foal. The foal looked up at him, wide doe eyes alight before he knickered and pranced over to Tony, almost dancing around him.

Soon, the foal came to a stop in front of Tony, almost as if he noticed his playmate wasn't joining in the fun. Tony reached out a tentative hand and the foal kicked up a bit before reaching out with his nose to bump against Tony's hand. Tony grinned and rubbed his hand up and down the length of the foal's snout, laughing brightly when the foal whinnied and pranced around again.

Tony turned to look at Alexander. "What's his name?" He asked. Alexander shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, Lille Valpen. He's your foal. It'd be wrong for someone else to name him. He's yours to gentle, to train and to ride. He's yours." He said strongly. Tony grinned at that again and reached out to run his hand over the length of the foal's short neck and scratch lightly at the base of his mane.

"I'll call you...Achillies."

Every novice was expected to learn to use two close-range weapons and as many long ranged weapons as possible by the time they started to take assignments, as well as multiple hand-to-hand combat styles. While the Order prized themselves on their assassin's being silent and unseen, sometimes something went wrong during an assignment or they instigated a fight on purpose for certain assignments, and the teachers wanted the novices and assassins to be ready for this.

Tony wasn't built large and, even after puberty started, the trainers had no trouble seeing that Tony wouldn't be a towering mass of muscles. But Tony didn't care, because he had speed and brain-processing power on his side. Alexander helped him pick a Russian style, Systema, which relied on Tony's speed to get around his opponent's defences and hit pressure points, and Japanese Aikido, which ignored Tony's lack of muscle-mass and relied on using his opponent's force against themselves.

Tony took to his styles like a fish to water and his teachers were amazed when he reached proficiency after only four years. But Tony kept practicing. Kept sparring with his teachers and the other students who were taking classes in the same styles. And soon, he came upon his weapons.

He, who'd been trained in archery since his sixth birthday, kept his bow, though he'd started using a longbow soon after his arrival at the den. Alexander trained him to be competent in the use of rifles, both hunting and sniping rifles, and the use of handguns after his twelfth birthday.

Tony's first choice in close-range combat weapons came when he stumbled upon another, older, novice practicing late one afternoon. She was moving through the katas with ease and Tony stood and watched, entranced. She was wielding a sword, one Tony recognized to be a katana. She stopped in her movements and looked behind her, directly at him and Tony could feel heat moving across his face.

The older novice smiled at him disarmingly and dropped her arms down, sliding the sword into the sheath that hung at her waist and then walking over to him. "Interested in the style?" She asked, stopping a few feet away from him. Tony nodded and the novice motioned him into the training room. The stone floor was cool and smooth underfoot and Tony stood in the middle of the room while the girl went to a rack against the wall and grabbed a wooden sword the same length and shape as the katana that hung from her belt.

She handed him the wooden sword, stood behind him and gently grabbed his wrists. They moved slowly through a kata before the other novice made a sound of contemplation and stepped back. "You're undercompensating. The katana gives you such a long reach, you're not stretching your arms enough, so the style isn't fluid." She took the wooden katana from his hand and returned to the wall, grabbing another wooden sword down and coming back.

The wooden sword she handed him this time was five inches shorter, more square in shape and slightly more heavy in the handle than the blade. They paired up again and went through the kata again. Tony could feel the ease this time and the novice behind him made a sound of triumph as she stepped back. "Perfect." She praised him and Tony smiled. After that, Stella became Tony's constant sparring partner and mentor and Tony picked up his first weapon, the Ninjato sword along with the ancient Japanese style Stella had showed him that first day, "Seibākyatto o furaingu", the Flying Saber Cat.

After that, Tony seemed indecisive as to what his next weapon would be and he went nearly six months before he chose his next one. The Order was known for their assassin's utilization of odd weapons and combat styles, and Brett Hatel was no different. Brett was born in London and raised in China with his mentor, he picked up an interesting weapon.

The Bo staff, used by monks in the temples, often as their only defensive weapons, was often almost as long as the wielder was tall and, made either of wood or metal, used correctly they could cave in a man's skull with an easy flick of the wrists. Brett smithed his own, collapsable and made of strong titanium alloys, though he preferred to practice with a wooden one he'd carved himself.

Tony stumbled upon him by accident one day, practicing in one of the empty pastures on a later summer evening. Tony had been training Achilles to take to his halter and be led by rope, the yearling prancing about behind him, when they saw him. Brett was sweeping through what looked to be a dance and Tony vowed to come back after he'd stabled Achilles for the night.

When he came back, Brett was still practicing, though he was moving faster, and his bare feet barely seemed to touch the ground. Tony hadn't realized he'd been watching for so long until Brett cleared his throat. Tony's head shot up and he stuttered over an apology before Brett lay a hand on his shoulders and smiled. "Chill it, little bro. You interested in learning to use the Bo staff?" He asked, taking his staff and tapping the end against the ground.

Tony looked unsure for a moment before he grunted softly. "Can I try it?" He asked. Brett nodded and Tony climbed over the fence and thumped onto the ground. Tony had tried dozens of different weapons since he'd found his sword and each one had just felt wrong. Now, Brett handed him the staff, helped placed his hands in the right position and stepped back.

"Now, swing carefully. See if it feels right. Move your feet smoothly. The key is remain light on your feet. Strike with the power in your shoulder. Find your target. The staff is your balance. The staff is your weapon. Use your focus and strike out!" He shouted. Tony was a little unsure on his feet at first but soon he moving with a little more ease, though it was almost aimless and without the fluidity a style brought.

Tony liked the way it felt, moving with the staff. Much like Brett had said, the staff acted like a balance and allowed for a broader range of motion, as well as an incredible reach. After a few moments he stopped, tapping the staff on the ground, much like Brett had. There was moment of silence before Tony turned to face Brett.

"I like it."

Tony takes up dancing a few months after his thirteenth birthday out of necessity.

Once the novices started moving away from book learning and into the technical applications of their skills and the additional skills they picked up from the others interests they were taught, the mentors made sure to have gather them together for an important conversation.

In the summer of Tony's tenth year, the mentors gathered the novices into one of the classrooms. The first thing they discussed was something that left every novice twitching with nerves. Their training and possible future jobs almost certainly precluded an injury, especially once they started weapons training and free-running practice. These injuries could kill, or permanently maim them if they occurred.

The second thing they talked about made Tony grin, even many years after. The idea of Zeymah, of Brothers and Sisters, was one that ran strong through the entire Order and had, since the beginning. Tony had known, since they all met, that he could trust those around him, but the idea of Zeymah was to trust them completely, to believe that they would be there for him through thick and thin.

These conversations, these life lessons, never became more truthful to Tony until his first, and only, major training accident.

Tony started training Achilles under saddle three months after the colt's second birthday and, by the time Tony and Alexander declared him trail-worthy shortly after his third birthday, both horse and rider knew each other very well. Achilles was stalwart and steady, hardly ever kicked up whether they were riding on the mountainous trails or the pastures around the stable. Tony was an attentive rider, mindful of his horse and his needs, gentle of hand and soft of voice, the signs of an expert horseman.

The day before Tony's thirteenth birthday, he woke up, ate his breakfast and made his way to the stables. He planned on practicing jumping with Achilles, in the hopes that he could possibly use him in competitions. The rest of his classmates, now numbered at eleven, were doing something else for the day, except for Anatassia and Robert, who'd already gone to the stables.

Achilles greeted him with a soft knicker and Tony frowned as he slid open the stall door, wrapped his fingers in the halter corner and led him out into the aisle of the stables. He clipped him to a stay post and ran his hands over Achilles, checked his hooves and in his ears and his mouth, though he found nothing wrong. Once he was assured Achilles wasn't suffering from an injury or illness, he unclipped him and led him to the indoor arena.

He went through the motions of saddling him as he'd done for almost a year. Achilles stood patiently as Tony heaved himself up into the saddle, though he seemed to dance a little as he moved out into the sand-covered jumping arena where Robert and Anatassia were already practicing.

Tony and the other riders endeavoured to train out the stable and riding vices, like wood-gnawing, see-sawing and dancing under saddle, and there was no reason for Achilles to break his gait, as he'd been taken out of stable daily. Before Tony started the jumping course, he gaited him around the massive pen, hoping a quick warm up would ease Achilles' jumpiness. He danced a little the first two times around the pen but, by the third time around, Achilles was trotting with his usual smoothness.

Finally, Tony turned Achilles onto the course and made for the first jump. For ten minutes, Achilles made his jumps with ease, cleared the water obstacles and sand traps, and stayed a steady trot around the course. Tony knew, on one of the last jumps of the course, that something went wrong when Achilles whinnied sharply. His hindlegs caught the poll and they landed horribly.

Achilles brayed loudly as they landed and before Tony could rein him in he started bucking, neighing and whinnying as he kicked up. Tony held on as tight as he could, gently pulling on the reins and talking soothingly, trying to walk him down from the fit. But Achilles was having none of it and soon, his legs got caught in the edge of a sand trap.

Achilles brayed once more and, before Tony knew what was wrong, he was flying through the air. His contact with a nearby jumping obstacle made a terrific crash and, as his body made contact with the ground, white hot agony arced through his back and arm. Blackness crept over his vision and the last things he heard before he fell unconscious were the sounds of screaming.

Sometime Later

When Tony next awoke, he was in a medium-sized room, dark and comfortably warm. He was on his side and his head felt like it was full of thistle-down and lamb's wool. His arm was stretched out and resting on a pillow, swathed in a cast from fingertips to well past his elbow. He could feel a warmth against his back that seemed to ease some of the pain he could feel lancing up and down his spine.

"H'lo?" He slurred and stopped, a strangled whine escaping him. God, it hurt. Tony turned blurry hazel eyes upwards and mumbled quietly when he saw Anatassia, holding a cup with a straw to his lips. Tony drank gratefully before pulling back. "Wha' happened?" He asked. He didn't dare move, if the pain that was still moving through his body was any warning. Anatassia thinned her lips. "I think you should let Alexander tell you." She said softly. Tony felt nervous, but sleep was already pulling at him and soon he was slipping into sleep again.

The next time Tony came back. he was facing the opposite side of the bed and Alexander was facing him. "It's nice to see you awake, Lille Valpen." He said, smiling softly and holding another straw to Tony's lips. Tony drank deeply again before pulling back.

"What happened?" He asked, this time voice much clearer. Alexander seemed recalcitrant to answer at first, but soon, he placed a hand on Tony's good one, which rested next to the pillow and had an IV inserted into it.

"You had an accident on the jumping course two days ago, Tony. One of Achilles' shoes came loose on a jump and then the next jump drove a nail into the sole of his hoof. He bucked you out of the saddle and you flew into an obstacle. You broke your arm and dislocated your elbow. You also..." Tony looked as his mentor sharply.

"Tony, when you landed, you pulled most of flexor muscles in your lower back. Now, normally, if you pulled one or even two, all you would need was rest for it, some ice and heat and time. But you pulled almost every single Multifidum Flexor muscle in your back. You're going to need some kind of therapeutic management for it. If you can't find one that works, we'll have to pull you from the program."

Several Weeks Later

Tony was curled up in his bunk, holding back tears as Brad pressed a heating pad to his back, singing softly to him. Anatassia was brushing his hair out of his face and singing with Brad. Tony took a shuddering gasp. The medics had given him a list of therapeutic exercises to perform in hopes to help heal his back. And they'd helped. Somewhat.

Tony groaned. "It's not nice to play song tag when I can't sing back." He said, gaining light smiles from the other two. Song tag was a game that had originated shortly after the ill-fated hunting trip after Tony's tenth birthday that had cut their numbers when four of the novices departed when they came to the realization that they couldn't even kill deer, let alone humans. The remaining novices, bored, soon picked up hobbies like playing instruments and singing, just to fill the quiet that began to invade their section of the dorms. Novices would burst out into random song, sometimes from the radio, sometimes from recorded choir performances or movies. Novices would join in, or come back with a different song and, soon it was a game.

"Well, you always come back with something good, even if it takes awhile." Brad said and Tony chuckled weakly. There was a rustle and then a grunt. "You know, there's one thing on this list you haven't tried yet." Brad murmured and Tony nodded. He knew that, at the bottom of the list and circled, was the word "Dancing". Tony had yet to visit with the two mentors that knew multiple forms of dancing yet, but with this attack, he knew he could put it off no longer.

"I know, I'll talk to them in the morning."

Following Day

Jeremey Sayers and Allicia Walters practiced every other day in one of the training rooms with their students and Tony found them with ease when he goes looking for them the next morning. Jeremey greeted him with a smile and an expansive arm motion while Allicia and the other novices greeted him with waves, though they were no less enthusiastic in their vocalized greetings.

"Tony! Alexander said we could be expecting you. Come on in, we'll find you a partner."

Tony couldn't have hoped for a better result than the one he received. The dancing, which started light, not only eased the pain in his back and aided his recovery, it increased his flexibility and his overall ease of movement.

Tony would go on to learn Ballroom and all of its subsets, American and otherwise, Fandango and Flamenco, Swing Dancing and, when he was older and as a bet, several styles of Indian dances.

"Pay attention 'Nio! We're here!" Tony was pulled out of his reverie by Anatassia's voice and he shook himself. They were just about to cross over the small creek to the airstrip and Tony slowed down his tandem until they were across. Anatassia smiled at him as she made it across as well. "Reminiscing?" She asked and Tony nodded.

"I can't help it. I'll be eligible for assignments in a few weeks. I've been thinking about all the training I've done since we all started spending time here at the Den." He said. They'd arrived at the airstrip now and Tony gently pulled Odin and Zeus to a halt near the one plane that sat on the tarmac. Anatassia grinned at him.

"Yeah, well, don't do that on the way home. Hauling two tons of steel ingots uphill is not the time to get sentimental." She and Tony shared a laugh as Tony stuck his tongue out at her and climbed off his wagon seat.

"Sure, 'Tassa. Now let's get this done so we can be home for dinner. I hear the cooks are making brisket tonight."