"Sometimes the gift of an inquisitive nature to the young can be greater than that of the wisdom which comes of age." ~Abbot Mordalfus, "Mattimeo", Brian Jacques.

"Wungkan!"

The Sandeyes and Jacob looked on as the Guosim and Guoraf shrews dispersed from the central floor. Larina, however, stared at Log-a-Log Tipuka, taken utterly aback as if he'd blurted out an ugly foreign swear word.

"Excuse me, Log-a-Log Tipuka, but what on earth did you say?"

"Wungkan, Larina." Tipuka grinned from ear to ear, stuffing his paws in his tunic pockets. "The all-encompassing name for martial arts in our world. From the Eastern Islands and Senshan, to Mossflower and Salamandastron, the West Coast to the East, even as far as Southsward and the Northlands, martial artists the globe over utter the name 'Wungkan'. That is what we call the art of unarmed combat, my dear."

"But what does it actually mean?" Larina asked, baffled.

"Believe it or not, it's an ancient word from the Eastern Islands," Jared explained, and before Larina's eyes, he struck a pose. Standing firmly on one foot, he lifted the other to rest lengthwise atop his kneecap. He clasped his palms together as if in humble prayer. "In our tongue, it means the 'unity path'. Unity of body, mind, and spirit in self-defense, close combat, meditation, and study. When you have that unity, nothing can be impossible for you."

"I assume Gavlin used his signature Timawko style against you, Jared?" Tipuka asked Jared, smiling with admiration at the squirrel's unwavering pose.

"Yes, sir," Jared nodded, not breaking his form even slightly. "I retaliated with Kōnōtash."

"Kōnōtash, eh?" Tipuka raised his eyebrows, impressed, his face breaking into a broad, toothy grin. "A classic, that one! Outstanding! I never had a doubt that you are indeed a trained fighter, Jared! Perhaps you'll find another favorite style here in our classes today. I especially look forward to facing you in the ring as well."

He turned and looked out at the crowded main hall, now buzzing with excitement. "When it comes to something as sophisticated as Wungkan, there's always something more to learn!"

"Timakwo. Kōnōtash. Gōryjūn." Tiraqoo counted a finger for each style he named. "All pieces of the greater whole that is Wungkan, the Unity Path. You see, Larina, martial arts are far more than flashy moves and showy techniques."

He mirrored Jared's pose using the opposite leg. "Wungkan is a discipline, a mindset, a state of being. It is enlightenment; transcendence, if you will. Mind you, the Eastern Islands and the land of Senshan merely introduced martial arts. The rest of the world defined it."

"What we will show you here at Brockhall today is only a small fraction of that whole, I'm afraid," added Tipuka, anxiously clenching and unclenching his fists. "If you truly want to see Wungkan in its fullest form, you must travel our great and beautiful world, and witness all it has to offer. You must see the Eastern Islands and Senshan with your very own eyes. At the very least, though, I'll hope you'll all learn something."

"Who knows?" Remy asked, pulling out the cuffs in his longsleeved shrew tunic. "What you learn here might even come in handy in the future.

"Oh, that reminds me," Jared perked up. He dropped his perched leg on the floor, undoing his stance. "Log-a-Log Tipuka, there's a lot of things my sister and I need to tell you—"

"Shrewbeer!"

Emerging from a hallway, a plump, middle-aged shrewmaid in a plain white apron hoisted two tankards of shrewbeer high in the air. She gave one each to the two Log-a-Logs.

"Ah, flawless timing, Matilda!" Tipuka gladly took his drink and swung it enthusiastically. "Thank you, lass!" He kissed the back of the shrewmaid's now-empty paw, causing her to giggle delightfully.

"Down the hatch, Tipuka!" Tiraqoo too dropped his meditative pose to take his tankard. He and Tipuka clanked theirs together and drank deeply.

"Shrewbeer fresh from the barrels, Log-a-Logs! Enjoy!" The shrewmaid chef named Matilda flattened out her apron and hurried back the way she came.

Tipuka returned first, his drink already a fourth of the way empty. "Whatever it is, Jared, I'm sure it can wait until after the classes are finished for the day." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Seeing the squirrel's dubious raised eyebrow, he added, "There is much to be done, lad, and time is of the essence."

"Log-a-Log Tipuka, please." Madeline weaved her way through the growing throng of shrews rushing to sit down on root-woven chairs around tree stump tables. "With all due respect, sir, it's very urgent."

"Isn't there anything you can do to get him to listen?" Jared asked Tiraqoo.

"When everything is said and done, Jared," Tiraqoo licked the shrewbeer on his lips. "Tipuka and I will be glad to hear what you and your sister have to say. But right now, there is a lot to do. We need as many paws to help as we can get."

Jared rolled his eyes with a frustrated groan, while Madeline sighed and shook her head in dismay.

"No good?" Larina asked as she and Jacob leaned back against a wall.

"No good," Jared grumbled, facepalming himself. "What if, by the time it's all over, it's too late to tell them about Nagrig Deathblade?"

"Maybe it is better to keep them in the dark about it," Madeline shrugged, clueless. "I'd hate for the serious news to darken their excitement for the martial arts classes."

"Look on the bright side," Jacob also shrugged, albeit more optimistically. "Maybe Deathblade will show up and crash the classes. Then the Guosim and Guoraf will have no choice but to see him."

At Madeline and Larina's sudden looks of abject, white-faced horror, and Jared's dark death glare, he defensively added, "You never know."

"Delicious shrewbeer!" Tiraqoo threw his head back and chugged his shrewbeer down with incredible—albeit noisy—vigor, much to the dubiety of his non-shrew guests. Then he let out a satisfied exhale. "Nothing better after a long four days of traveling down the river, am I right? Hahahahaha!" He practically spilled the last of his shrewbeer into his mouth.

"Hmph!" he exclaimed loudly, standing once more. "That's some strong stuff!"

He rocked from side to side in an ungainly fashion. Footpaws crossed around and behind each other, legs bending slightly at the knees before straightening out. Toes turned in, then out again. His empty tankard dropped from his paw to the floor with a noisy metallic clatter.

He stumbled clumsily into the ring in the center of the hall. Chuckles and snickers with excited, knowing smiles came from the Guoraf shrews. In the center of the room, Tiraqoo relaxed his body, stumbling in every direction.

Suddenly, the adult shrew tensed his body and rocketed forward. He flung his hooked fists outwards into the open air. Elbows shot out at horizontal angles. Curled fingers pinched the gently swaying vine branches which hung from the ceiling of Brockhall.

"Goodness gracious!" Larina's jaw dropped in shocked amazement. "What technique is that?!"

"That is called Kuanzai!" Tipuka explained, a toothy grin of pride on his face. "The drunken style!"

"Great seasons!" Jacob cried out, unable to take his eyes off the sight of the seemingly inebriated shrew. "He isn't actually drunk, is he?"

"One mug of shrewbeer!" Jared held up an emphasizing finger. "One whole mug, and he's in fighting mode!"

"One mug? Oh, no, Tiraqoo's perfectly sober!" Tipuka snorted with laughter, and took a quick swig of his shrewbeer. "Watch and learn, friends!"

A dramatic exclamation from Tiraqoo drew all eyes and ears in the room to him. The Guoraf Log-a-Log leaned backward, holding his core directly above his point of balance. His left arm reached outward behind him, his right arm swinging lazily at his side.

"Behold, my shrew and non-shrew friends and family alike! For your education and entertainment, I give you…the Eight Kuanzai Warriors!"

"Oh, I get it!" Larina's expression brightened, her ears perked. Her confused shock changed to awestruck realization. "Kuanzai is designed to imitate the movements of a drunken beast!"

"Exactly!" Tipuka beamed with pride, waving his shrewbeer tankard at the teenage squirrelmaid in a congratulatory gesture. "Well spotted, Larina! You're learning quickly!"

Tiraqoo stood up straight and unsheathed his rapier from the leather scabbard strapped to his back.

"Kalayn Garloun, the bankvole with internal strength who sways back and forth to trick his foes! His mighty sword banishes evil spirits!"

He spread his feet shoulder-width apart and squatted into a neutral stance. He started to flounder across the breadth of the room, fencing, parrying, and riposting, tossing his rapier from paw to paw. Rapid, boxing-esque punches, jabs, and uppercuts punctuated his blows. All the while, undulating back and forth to dodge attacks.

In three fluid motions, he sheathed his rapier, slipped from the scabbard from off his back, and tossed it to the side. His shrews caught and laid it across a tree stump. Another dramatic cry, and he pretended to lift up an enemy and toss them over his shoulder.

At last, he lifted his footpaw and perched it across his opposite knee. The Sandeyes, Jacob, and Larina all gasped and cried out in unison when he fell forward, landing on his stomach and chest.

"Plu Sachuk, the iron-caned shrew cripple and his mighty right leg!"

Planting his palms on the ground, he lifted himself into a push-up position. His right leg spun around and around in dizzying circles from underneath him. He bent his left leg and jumped on his paws and knee over his circling right leg.

Then he stopped and sprang on both feet. His left foot planted itself on the ground. His right leg kicked in every direction around him. Catching it by the toes, he stretched his leg and pointed the foot towards the ceiling above. Then he rolled forward and sprang again into a second standing neutral stance. His arms were now spread in a wide circle.

"Dovacon Merkle, the badger carrying a wine cauldron! He tackles enemies using his great strength!"

Now he stepped slow and deliberately through the space, burdened by the great weight of his "wine cauldron". He arced his arms in broad, heavy swings through the air. Every now and then, he would turn the other way to swipe at invisible enemies. He stopped to drink from his large wine cauldron; then snapped upright again to spin around in erratic circles.

"I'm thoroughly confused," Larina confessed to Jared in a low whisper, absolutely riveted by the performance. "Who are these eight warriors?"

"Creatures from the Eastern Islands who helped develop the technique of Kuanzai as we know it today," Jared explained, his eyes locked on the spinning, drinking, cauldron-balancing shrew. "In ancient seasons long ago, they helped bring the way of Wungkan and its numerous disciplines outside of the Eastern Seaboard to faraway lands like Mossflower."

"So, he's not making up the names?" Jacob asked. The wolf furrowed his brow and jerked his thumb at the jumping Tiraqoo. "The Eight Kuanzai Warriors aren't legends?"

"Nope, they were all real," Madeline answered as Tiraqoo took a second swig of "wine". "Once upon a time, they existed as living, breathing, fighting beings. The legends of their heroics have been passed down through the generations. Jared and I, and our eldest brother, Edoran, grew up learning about them in our Wungkan studies, as did our parents, and their parents before them, and so on."

Tiraqoo stopped in the center of the room beneath an encircling cluster of low-hanging vines that stretched from the ceiling of Brockhall. Diagonal rays of the morning sun illuminated his chestnut-brown fur in a shining golden aura. The shrew drew his arms apart, dropping his "cauldron", then pulled his arms in and set his clenched fists at his hips.

"Chuta Baé, the bamboo basket-carrying ottermaid with the sudden waist attack!"

At this point, three Guoraf shrews swarmed Tiraqoo and stood around him in a wide circle.

"Come at me, Samson!"

Samson, a tall, toned, and broad-chested shrew unleashed a flurry of swift and heavy Kōnōtash punches, aiming for every inch of Tiraqoo's body he could reach. From the sidelines, Jared recognized them as the same punches he had earlier used to drive Gavlin into retreat. Tiraqoo withdrew in the same. He exclaimed when Samson's assault pressed him up against the wall.

Samson dove in to strike his stomach. Tiraqoo crouched and grabbed a light load of dirt from the ground. He flung the entire fistful at his fellow shrew's face. Samson blocked by folding his forearms in the nick of time—before Tiraqoo ducked and chopped his hips using the sides of his paws. He then struck Samson in the torso and stomach using the strength of his thighs. The tall shrew collapsed horizontal onto his stomach, dazed.

"Who's next?" Tiraqoo stepped into the ring and spun around, flinging his fists every which-way. "Is that you, Fritz?"

The one named Fritz leaped into action. Shorter and stockier than Samson, but no less well-built. He tucked one foot behind the knee of the other, bending the standing knee slightly. He put his paws at his waist, his neck sidewise. Tiraqoo put up his hooked paws, staggering in his drunken state.

With a battle cry, Fritz snapped into Gōryjūn. He lunged and twisted his hips, his fists first closed. His open palms then smacked Tiraqoo's chest and torso. Hips twisted left and right to deliver brandishing punches from the knuckles and the undersides of his paws.

Tiraqoo spun his own hips in circles to evade Fritz's blows. He sank to his knees and slammed the younger shrew's waist square on with the backs of his paws. Fritz stumbled away from the instant blow holding his midsection. Tiraqoo coiled forward, striking the poor shrew upside the face. Fritz spun around once, then landed vertical on top of the prone Samson. Tiraqoo brought his legs back together.

"Dus Tuthu, the old stoat warrior and his swift double kicks!"

Abreast of him, Tillie launched into a sequence of alternating Timakwo kicks. Each one increased in height over and about Tiraqoo's body. Tiraqoo spun round, then ducked and swerved and pulled in his stomach. He waited until Tillie had finished her maneuvers—to retaliate with his own.

His right leg whipped up again and again. Tillie drew back in rapid steps and high forearm and elbow blocks, so that Tiraqoo's foot hit empty air or bare fur.

The first kick brushed her diaphragm. The second grazed her ribcage. The third hit an inch from her nose. The fourth tapped her forehead.

Unharmed but attentive, Tillie backed up against the wall. Her face was taut but her eyes betrayed a slight vagary of anxiety. Tiraqoo flipped into a pawstand and whipped the air between himself and Tillie. The Guoraf shrewmaid darted and crouched to avoid her Log-a-Log's flailing feet.

Leaping out of the pawstand back to his feet, Tiraqoo swung out his right leg to trip Tillie's feet out from underneath her. Tillie's fellow shrews caught her before she hit the ground, and she sat down on a chair made of aged oak tree roots.

Tiraqoo slumped into a low duck, his back leg bent, his front leg slanted. One arm curled over his head. The other he held at a defensive angle at eye level.

"Gromzayl Kundun, youngest member of the pantheon! The sable who locks the throat and breaks the joints!"

Now Remy charged forward. He flung his vertical Domnal punches at Tiraqoo. His arms and wrists were loose and fast, only to become rigid on impact with his target. Tiraqoo dove to clamp Remy's wrists. The young shrew rolled his forearms out and lifted his elbow up to deflect. Tiraqoo kicked at his ribs and knees. But he blocked the bottom of Tiraqoo's feet with one palm and swiped at his head with the other.

Unbothered, Tiraqoo ducked under the furious swipe and flipped forward, driving Remy back. His left fist clamped tight on the teenager's throat. His right reached over Remy's shoulder and pressed two fingers into his left shoulder blade, before gripping the back of his tunic.

Remy cried out as Tiraqoo lifted him lengthwise onto his shoulders. Laughing in triumph, Tiraqoo hoisted him into the air and rolled him rearward. Remy screamed and flopped from off Tiraqoo's shoulders onto his back on the floor.

Jacob ran to the fallen shrew's side and helped him to his feet. "Oh, seasons!" He helped the shrew carefully to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes. "Remy, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all right, Jacob," Remy patted the wolf on the back in thanks, panting breathlessly. He gave the wolf a reassuring smile, despite groaning and wincing at the pain now shooting through his body. "Really, I'm fine. Don't worry 'bout me, mate."

"Anybody else?" Tiraqoo asked, spinning in circles on the spot.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter when exclamations of denial and refusal came in response from his audience. Tillie helped Samson and Fritz to their feet, and took them down the hallway to the infirmary.

All watched as Tiraqoo held his paws several inches apart from each other. His right sat closest to his mouth, his left outstretched. He bent his middle and ring fingers, his thumbs curling underneath, and his index fingers and pinkies upright.

"Adam Corbeau, the drunken squirrel flute player! Second youngest who counters and blocks his enemies with his unbreakable wrists!"

He danced and twirled around the fighting ring. Fingers wiggled to play and balance the flute in place. Shrill, melodic whistles came forth from his mouth to imitate the flute's silvery, airy sound. He pushed his paws left and right, up and down, forward and backwards and diagonal, over and under his shoulders and legs, turning and twisting his wrists inwards and out. Never once did he drop his instrument. Never did his whistling hit a sour note or falter in volume. He danced the circumference of the hall, blocking and countering and playing his flute, and returned right where he'd started before.

Now, tossing away his "flute", he assumed a rather bizarre feminine posture. His body turned oddly sideways and pushed out his left hip. He held one paw in front of his face, fingers bent, the other's fingers wiggling and drawing semicircles in the air, as if to ward off an incoming threat.

"Last but certainly not least, Fassal Gumiss! The haremaid flirting and flaunting her twisting body to cover her short-range attacks!"

"Ah, that's my cue! Hold this, if you please." Tipuka handed his quarter-empty tankard of shrewbeer to Jacob, before stepping into the fighting ring.

"Wait, Tipuka, sir!" Jacob called after the Guosim Log-a-Log. "What am I supposed to do with this?!"

But the shrew had already put up his fists, stepping into a standard preparatory stance. Feet pointed forward, thighs parallel to the floor, tail pushed out, back arched up. He raised one arm into the air, paw pointed towards his opponent and curved into an arc, claws bared.

"What style is that?" Larina whispered to the Sandeyes, pointing out Tipuka's curious stance.

"Ganguen Huk," Jared explained, leaning in and putting a paw on her shoulder. Larina thanked the shadows for hiding the mild red blush that creeped unwelcome onto her cheeks. "An obscure Wungkan style created by the Githinien monk fighters that is rarely practiced outside the Eastern Sea. I wonder how Tipuka came to learn it."

A sudden aggressive, deep-throated hiss from Tipuka made everybeast (except for the Guosim) jump and flinch in surprise and fright. He hurled himself at lightning speed. His claws grabbed at Tiraqoo's neck, face, and eyes. Tiraqoo tiptoed away, flinging his arms shoulder to shoulder to block with his forearms and wrists. His wiggling, semicircle-drawing fingers blocked or knocked Tipuka's fingers away.

Tipuka and his deadly claws kept coming. He reached down to grapple Tiraqoo's groin. The other Log-a-Log turned his back and jutted out his backside to strike Tipuka in the waist. Spinning on his heels, he repeated the move using his front waist for good measure.

He advanced as Tipuka recoiled. His middle and ring fingers bent to poke Tipuka's face with his index fingers and pinkies. Tipuka stooped rearwards to avoid. But the back of Tiraqoo's other paw punched his gut, followed by a swift backpaw punch to the face.

Tipuka lurched, fidgeting with his nose. He kicked low at Tiraqoo's legs, feet, and pelvis. Tiraqoo pulled his body in and out to avoid. He twirled to catch Tipuka's foot in a hooked fist grip, rubbing his other palm in Tipuka's face, then palming his stomach and forehead.

Tipuka bobbed and weaved to again regain his footing. But Tiraqoo was already upon him, catching Tipuka in the shoulders and torso with his elbows to spin him around and around in his arms multiple times. Disoriented, Tipuka slipped on a stray tree root and flopped onto his back on the floor.

The main hall of Brockhall erupted in cheers, accentuated by the combined laughter of the two Log-a-Logs. Tiraqoo resumed his first stance, hooked fists extended out and balancing on his tiptoes.

"And that, my friends and family, is Kuanzai! Now if you'll all please excuse me, I need a new drink…"

To great applause and raucous laughter, Tiraqoo dropped his paws by his sides for the final time, and slumped backward, falling flat onto the ground.

In Brockhall's small infirmary, the Sandeyes and their companions watched shrew nurses lay the injured shrews down on clean beds and freshly fluffed pillows.

"Will everyone be all right?" Larina asked, watching Therese, the head nurse, administer a healing salve to Samson's body.

"Oh, dey'll all be just foine," Therese smiled warmly, rubbing the ointment in circles on Samson's stomach. "Dis is simply regular routine fer us shrews, all dis Wungkan stuff. Been a hot season since we've 'ad a good shrew gat'erin' loike dis one. All dat pent-up energy from travelin' down de river; our Guoraf bret'ren musta been restless, so dis was a good way fer them t' let all it all out. We've seen dese kinda bruises before, so we can treat 'em like nobeast's business. A bandage here, a poultice there, and dey'll all be righ' as rain! 'Ere, lass."

Therese passed her a circular ceramic tray, upon which were mounted tall ceramic mugs of ice-cold water. "Why dontcha pass dese roun' t' our dear patients?"

Larina gladly took the ceramic tray and did as she was told.

"I can't believe Log-a-Log Tiraqoo beat you all up like that!" she spoke her mind, placing her first cup of water on Samson's bedside table. "Do all the Guerilla Union leaders do that to their shrews? Do you all just let him thrash you around? What kind of Log-a-Log does that?"

She raised her eyebrows in perplexed surprise when Samson snorted. The tall, broad-chested shrew practically beamed while he smoothed out the bandages wrapped neatly around his torso and stomach. "Nah, that was jus' a demonstration, really! Tiraqoo's th' single best Kuanzai practitioner in all Mossflower! 'E practically keeps th' style alive outside o' th' Eastern Seaboard. None have been able t' best 'im in th' rin'! What kinda Log-a-Log does that, ye ask? Th' kin' who wants his shrews t' become better in the way of Wungkan! Better than him an' better than themselves!"

"Th' trut' is, miss, we planned this thin' all alon'," the short and stocky Fritz piped up from his bed across the room, propping himself up on his pillows. His nose still twitched where Tiraqoo had earlier struck him upside the face. "Samson, Tillie, me, an' our beloved Log-a-Log Tiraqoo. Same goes fer Log-a-Log Tipuka as well. We all knew exactly what we were doin', an' we let Tiraqoo beat th' stuffin' out o' us. His display wouldn't 'ave been 'alf as effective if'n we were all able t' beat 'im down, dontcha agree?"

From her bed on Samson's left, Tillie nodded. She rested her legs atop a row of pillows. "Aye, Log-a-Log Tiraqoo's mastery o' Kuanzai is t' be admired, not feared. There's much he can teach ye 'bout it, if'n ye're willing to learn! Dontcha worry 'bout us, Larina. We practiced this fer days before we came t' Brock'all, so even though we may all be different in appearance," she winked reassuringly at the squirrelmaid. "We're a lot tougher an' more durable than we look. Besides, we all came out intact an' in one piece, didn't we?"

Meanwhile, Jared stood up and walked to the other side of the infirmary. He passed by the others' beds on his way to Gavlin's side.

"How are you feeling, Gav?" he asked, sitting down on a medium-sized tree stump at the teenage shrew's side.

Gavlin held a paw to the poultice wrapped like a sash around his chest. He grimaced, but managed a reassuring smile. "Better than I was before. You got me pretty good, mate. I'm honestly impressed by how you fought. I gotta say, I didn't think you would use Kōnōtash against me. I guess subconsciously, I expected something more extreme from you, like Shonjin or Ahkdap."

Jared scoffed, and shook his head, smiling. "Are you kidding? I deliberately held myself back against you, Gavlin. If I had used my real styles out there, Gav, you'd be a broken wreck." His smile broadened into a playfully cheeky smirk. "Besides, almost nobody uses Shonjin, especially outside Senshan's Takeshi region. And to be honest, I never could completely grasp Ahkdap. So, there's no chance I could ever use it against you. I'd look like a total amateur!"

Then the squirrel sighed and stared regretfully at the poultice laced around Gavlin's chest. "Still, I feel really bad for hurting you. I hope I didn't get you too badly."

Now it was Gavlin's turn to scoff and shake his head, rolling his eyes. He and Jacob, who sat on his other side, exchanged amused smirks. "Nah, I've been hit worse before. Let's say I've built up something of a pain tolerance over the seasons. Training in the ways of Wungkan almost your whole entire life will do that to you."

When Jared raised an eyebrow, skeptical, Gavlin put his paw on the squirrel's, smiling. "You did darn good out there, Jared. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Seriously, you ought to be proud of yourself, too."

"I'm still reeling from Tiraqoo's Kuanzai demonstration!" Jacob admitted. The wolf's golden eyes were full of wonder and amazement. "I've never seen anything like that before! It was incredible!"

"Oh, Tiraqoo demonstrated his special Kuanzai style, did he?" Gavlin grinned from ear to ear, leaning back on his headboard. "The Eight Warriors, huh? Kuanzai wouldn't be what it is without them. I'm glad I missed it, then; it would have been boring to me. Same old things I've seen a dozen times before."

Madeline came to her brother's side and sat down beside him. "I'm curious at Tipuka's Ganguen Huk style. How did he come to learn it? The monk fighters of Githinien don't often share their esoteric style."

"Nothing I know about," Gavlin shrugged; his clear lack of knowledge sincere. "How my uncle came to know Ganguen Huk is a mystery; his closest guarded secret. Everyone in the Guosim and Guoraf know how I came to be under his care. But how he learned the ancient style of Githinien in the Eastern Islands, well…"

He shrugged again, pointing a thumb over his shoulder outside the infirmary. "You'd have to ask him yourself. You have to earn the truth of that secret. He doesn't even tell me, and I'm related to him by blood."

"The Eight Kuanzai Warriors…" Jacob rubbed his chin, staring distantly out into space. "I'd love to hear the historical legends about them someday. I assume Redwall Abbey wouldn't have them in their history books?"

Jared bit his lip, shaking his head once more. "I'm afraid not, Jake. You'd have to travel all the way to the Islands to find the Kuanzai Warriors. I highly doubt anybeast in Redwall would know who they are. Even Brother Timms or Recorder Jonathan, and they know practically everything about history."

"So, what happens now?" Larina asked as she came by Gavlin's bed, placing her last mug of water on his bedside table.

Gavlin gratefully took his iced water and sipped it, thinking. "Well, now that you're all here at Brockhall, we can begin the next round of classes. We already had a bunch over the last two days you guys spent traveling here from Redwall. But I wouldn't say you missed too much. We covered the most basic styles first. Timakwo, Kōnōtash, traditional wrestling, and a stand-up striking and clinching style from the Eastern Island of Tutha, called Tuah Mann."

"Traditional wrestling?!" Jacob perked up, his ears standing upright. Then he snapped his fingers and groaned aloud. "Darn, I missed it! I could've given you all some tips and tricks that Dallas Irontail taught me!"

"At this point, we're going to move on to more complex styles of Wungkan. You saw Gōryjūn when you first arrived here, and obviously you witnessed Tiraqoo's Kuanzai demonstration. If you're interested, Rina," Remy piped up from across the room, diagonal to Gavlin's bed. "My sister Ruth is giving her Halichit class in about half an hour."

"Halichit…" Larina rubbed her chin contemplatively. "Hmm, that does sound interesting. All right, I'll check it out. Thank you, Remy."

"I'll join you, Rina," Madeline hopped to her feet by her fellow squirrelmaid's side. "I've dabbled in Halichit myself while growing up in the Islands. I'd be happy to help you out."

"Then it's settled," Gavlin took his water cup again and raised it in a toast to Larina and Jacob. "Welcome to Wungkan, mates. You're walking the Unity Path now."

Back in Brockhall's main hall, Larina, Madeline, and some Guosim and Guoraf shrews stood together in small triangles scattered evenly throughout the space. All faced frontwards towards Brockhall's main entrance.

"Welcome to Halichit," announced the instructor, a beige-furred young adult Guosim shrew who wore a chalk-white blouse over her shortsleeved bright tan tunic. She adjusted her hood over her ears. "I'm Ruth, your teacher. Halichit is an 'internal' and 'soft' martial art, meditative but with a layer of practical combat uses. It is widely practiced around the world and valued for its physical and spiritual health benefits. It has been known to improve strength, flexibility, body awareness, and mental concentration. I will teach you many different forms and techniques, and even give you a condensed rundown of the history of the style as we practice it."

She turned her back to her students and assumed a stance. "We shall begin with stance work and breathing exercises. Everybeast follow my lead."

She spread her feet shoulder-width apart. From a few feet away, Madeline did the same, and Larina followed along. Madeline placed her paws on her lower abdomen, pushing in lightly. Larina watched closely, copying the younger squirrelmaid.

"Press your lips loosely together," Ruth instructed. "Breathe in and out through your nose slowly from your abdomen. If you can't feel it moving, push in with your paws more as you need to."

Larina turned to face front, breathing through her nose, feeling her abdomen move. Her anxiety and excitement from the Kuanzai demonstration earlier ebbed away. A smooth calmness throughout her body replaced it with every breath.

"Now, one at a time, concentrate on every part of your body," Ruth continued. She rested her paws below her stomach. Palms faced downward; arms bent at the elbows. "Once you have control of your breathing, begin relaxing your body one at a time. Start from the undersides of your footpaws and work all the way up to your scalp."

Madeline closed her eyes. Larina did the same. She acknowledged the tension in her body, unwinding and relaxing her muscles from her footpaws to her head. The apprehension and fear she'd felt seeing Gavlin and Jared going at each other all seemed to fall from her body like water. They disappeared deep into the earth resting beneath the soles of her feet.

She started to sway on the spot, the tension in her body releasing to balance. Mindfully, she recentered herself, shifting focus back to her balance, until again she was steady.

"Continue to breathe as you need it," Ruth's soft silky voice drifted through the air around the two squirrelmaids and their partner. A Guoraf they'd learned minutes ago was named Antonius. "Proper breathing technique is essential in Halichit. Center your mind. Don't reflect on what has already come before during your day. Don't think about what you are planning to do later. Center yourself in the now. The goal is to focus your energy and tap into your potential."

When Larina and Madeline opened their eyes, Ruth had already spread her legs slightly. Her footpaws were rooted in the ground. Her legs swayed like tree branches in the wind, unhesitant and devoid of any negative energy.

"Imagine roots growing out from underneath your feet, stretching into the ground below you. You are a part of the earth, never losing your balance, focus, or centering. Your roots are beneath you, a part of you, giving the freedom to move without the fear of falling. You are a part of the natural world you live in."

"Follow my lead, Rina," Madeline whispered to Larina. The younger squirrelmaid spread her legs apart from each other, feet pointing outwards, resting her toes in the real tree roots and dirt. Larina watched closely before copying the stance.

"As you root yourself in place, the final thing you'll want to consider is called your frame," Ruth went on. "There are two you can choose from. Each has a different focus. The first variation is called Esel. Not very expansive, with smaller movements and less extension. The overall focus of Esel is to correct your internal energy to form genuine movements and transitions. I personally recommend this frame for beginner students of Halichit."

Keeping her right paw at her hip, she extended her left outwards, palm turned inward and arm bent slightly up. Her left leg stepped forward. Right leg stretched out to find its footing in the dirt.

"The other variation is called Bevid. This larger frame involves low and high stances. The postures are more dramatic with its swinging arms. Bevid emphasizes the body in meticulous positioning and alignment to channel internal energy. For more experienced students of Halichit, this variation is more encouraged."

She moved seamless to the other frame. Bringing her legs together, she lifted her left foot, heel in the air and toes resting on the ground. The right paw she held beside her head. The palm faced out, as if in greeting.

"You should always practice the variation that best suits your needs and interests," she explained, moving back to the first frame in one fluid movement. "Esel is more popular because of its focus on health issues and physical treatments. In contrast, Bevid has lower stances and focus on martial development, so it's more preferred as an art of self-defense."

Ruth returned to her original stance, her palms once again down below her stomach. "What matters is that you pursue the version that you find yourself most comfortable with. So, with all that said, settle yourselves in the frame that best suits you."

Larina assumed the Esel frame, copying Ruth. Madeline and Antonius both assumed the Bevid stance with ease.

"While you perform your movements, ponder these questions in your mind. What does this move symbolize to you personally? How do the simple moves of Halichit evoke the energy that they do? What do they mean to you? Halichit goes beyond simply putting your paws out in front of you. For every single movement, there is purpose; there is flow. Some can even be applied to combat for self-defense. Now, moving into position, we begin."

She pushed her paws out, arms bent and fingers lightly touching her thumbs and palms facing out. "This movement is called the single whip, a standard movement seen in every variety of Halichit."

She drew her dominant paw behind her at shoulder height and spread like loose wings. "Imagine your paws as like the beaks of the Sparra that live in Mossflower and sometimes visit Redwall Abbey. You don't need to know their strange language as a supplement to this move, rest assured. The single whip seems simple and harmless at first glance. But like the end of a whip, it can explode with a force of energy at any given moment."

Larina watched as Ruth then inverted the move using her non-dominant paw. She did her best to imitate the shrew. The squirrelmaid's body moved like water, graceful and elegant through the empty air. Left paw turned behind her in the air, fingers curled and arms spread. All the while, she continued to breathe. Inhaling tranquility, exhaling stress.

"Breathing…" Ruth intoned as she brought her paws back to center. "Relaxing. Feel the adrenaline leave your body. Replace it with calmness. Ground yourself in the floor beneath your feet. Pull the energy up from the earth…" she pulled her paws in towards her chest. "…and return it." Paws pushed outwards once more.

"Like wind rustling through grass, you move unhindered through your space." Ruth moved her arms apart from each other in circles. "Elbows out and wrists relaxed, draw circles using your fingers. Then your wrists, forearms, and finally shoulders. Try to maintain a perfect and unmoving balance in your core as you do this."

Larina traced small circles using her fingers and wrists. Madeline moved effortlessly to her forearms and shoulders. Antonius sat down in the dirt and worked from his toes to his thighs with his knees bent. Clockwise at first, then counterclockwise.

"Like the waters of the River Moss over rock and stone, you flow from one technique to the next." Ruth placed her weight on one leg, both feet on the ground. "The King or Queen Sparra spreads its wings in preparation to fly. Shift back and forth to test your balance. Your arms should perform opposite movements. One moving fast and on a higher plane. The other slow and deliberate. Neither should be flaccid or weak."

Pouring their weight fully into their right footpaws, Larina and Madeline coiled their waists slightly to the right. Right paws rose as they moved, palms facing their bodies. Left paws pressed down and heels peeled off the floor.

Ruth turned to the right-side wall of the hall. The squirrelmaids and their Guoraf companion followed. She continued to float her paw up to the ceiling, turning her palm upwards and sweeping her left paw around her abdomen, while moving her left foot towards the side wall.

She finished her waist turn and uncoiled to the opposite wall. Palm completed its turn up, floating just above her head as if to block the rays of sun that beamed through Brockhall's ceiling. Larina and Madeline followed through by letting their left paws descend next to their thighs and turned slightly outwards. Toes placed down forwards towards the wall just to the outside of the right heel, settling slightly.

"Halichit originated in the northwestern Eastern Island of Eseltharis," Ruth began to explain, as they moved once again through the "Sparra spreads wings" technique. "Known as the Island of the Rangers, the archers of Eseltharis developed Halichit as a part of their mental training. An archer must always keep a clear mind; serene, focused, centered solely at the task at paw. Whether that task be tracking, scouting, exploring, or archery. The rangers of Eseltharis are known to be skilled at performing Halichit movements in their minds while simultaneously doing even mundane, everyday things, such as putting on clothes or doing house chores. Thus, they continually train themselves in the discipline to keep an empty mind when in the midst of performing their ranger duties."

She turned again to face the opposite wall, and her students did the same. "Not long after its creation, the rangers of Eseltharis brought the art of Halichit to one of their neighboring islands, Bevidred. Bevidred further refined the style, giving birth to the Bevid frame and style as we know it today. Hence the name."

They finished uncoiling and hoisting and dropping their paws. "Some 20 seasons after the end of Senshan's Great War and the births of the five Clans, the wolf Loren Belfast was cast out of Bevidred. He would eventually find his way to the province of Kyuna, where he developed Gōryjūn four seasons later. The Islands in time brought Halichit to Senshan as well."

Then Ruth placed her feet on the floor, parallel and returning to her original shoulder-width apart stance. "Next, we'll do what is called 'pouring'. This is probably the simplest maneuver, and is even something you can do at home."

Larina and Madeline poured their weight onto one leg and held it. After a few breaths, they moved elegantly onto their other legs and held it there. They moved back to their original frames after a few more breaths. They 'poured' thrice to solidify the technique into their minds and muscle memory.

"This next move is a personal favorite of mine," Ruth commented casually. "The beasts of Bevidred called it 'the serpent creeps down'. From your standing position, bend down into a hamstring lunge as gracefully as you can. Visualize yourself as Giant Ice Eyes himself, the fearsome giant adder Asmodeus Poisonteeth. Eastern legend of antiquity also speaks of a great cobra named Lakataal who dwells deep in the Bevidred forests. He lives coiled around himself in undisturbed slumber."

Larina shuddered with a sudden bout of spine-chilling fear as she copied the move. But she dared not let it show on her face. Madeline's face, however, remained stoic when she bent into the snakelike posture. The squirrelmaids tested their balance, swinging their arms around on different plans and speeds.

"Now come back up," Ruth instructed, and her students obeyed without delay. "Please return to your starting stances." She moved her paws in a short semicircular arc through the air, elevating one of her feet off the ground and knee in the air.

Larina dug her foot into the dirt. In her peripheral vision, she saw Madeline holding her bushy tail upright. She did the same to maintain her balance as she drew her semicircular arc. As her paws came back down towards her legs, her elevated foot softly dropped back down.

This went on for several more minutes, exploring different variations of the same moves and trying new ones. Ruth took them through alternative paw and arm movements. Some involved the feet and others did not. With every gesticulation, Larina felt her anxieties and worries melt away. She noticed total control over her limbs, paws, and feet. Never straying or rising and falling at the wrong angle. But always moving on her whim and will with the needed measure of energy and muscle.

"Halichit is, in my humble opinion, the quintessential, definitive style of Wungkan," Ruth expressed after a period of silence. "It is the very definition of the Unity Path itself, body, mind, and spirit. Halichit is a complete martial art. Never let anybeast tell you otherwise."

Larina noticed a unified completeness inside herself. Every fiber of her body, mind, and spirit moved as one being in perfect harmony. Wind rustling through grass. Water flowing over rock and stone. Graceful and elegant like a new spring day being birthed after a rigid and gauche winter. Tipuka and Remy had been right: the meditative arts of Wungkan were just as important as the action-oriented ones.

"And as we finish, returning together in peace," Ruth's final words drew her out of her reflective reverie. They pulled their paws into their chests for the final time, and returned them down below their stomachs. "Let us all be grateful for the time we've spent together today. Moreover, let us be thankful for this meditation we've all experienced."