Over the next few weeks Amanda tried to be patient. She really did, but the truth was that she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to learn how to be a magus now. These days her father focused on letters, and numbers. She was making good progress on both of those, she also rarely complained anymore, she was growing to enjoy learning. But besides more numbers and remembering how to spell words it just wasn’t what she wanted.

Her impatience only grew stronger. Always coming back to the same thing over, and over again. Each time she asked him about magus training he told her that she had to wait. That she would learn at Vanshimer. She didn’t care about Vanshimer, and with each passing day waiting grew more and more frustrating.

Weeks past this way, Amanda tried again several times, figuring she could wear her father down. It usually worked well, if she was just persistent enough he usually gave in and told her or explained things eventually. Unless she forgot of course, but she certainly wasn’t going to forget about this.

Amanda was finishing scratching out a sentence on her slate. When she had a particularly good idea today, she had even had to ask her father how to spell a few words as she wrote. Which he gladly assisted.

When she was done she held up the slate, and turned it to her father so he could read her message, “My daddy teaches me more about magus!” It was far from perfect, but writing wasn’t easy, so this would have to do.

His expression however drained of humor at reading her slate. “Amanda… We’ve been over this.” he said with a calm, but firm tone.

Amanda however grew instantly frustrated with his echo chamber response. “But I wanna learn now!” Amanda shouted.

“And I told you that you had to wait.” Her father said, the patience slipping from his voice.

“I’ve already waited weeks!” Amanda whined.

“And you’ll wait years.” Her father stated firmly.

“Years!?” Amanda shouted, the idea too much for her to bear.

“Yes! Years. Not until you are old enough to pass the village’s rite of passage will you be allowed to leave and attend the academy.”

“The village!? What's that got to do with us!” Amanda complained.

“I spoke with others in the village, and they had some good advice. You’ll start attending their lessons soon, and when you’re a young woman you’ll be ready to make the trip.” Her father explained turning away. His goal clearly was to return to finishing their dishes.

“No! No! No!” Amanda yelled, “Now! I want to learn now!” She was practically screaming.

Her father spun on her his usual calm tone replaced with anger, “Amanda! I’ve told you the way it's going to be, I will not teach you anymore! That is all, this conversation is over! You won’t bring it up again!”

Amanda was paralyzed at that moment. The moment seemed to last forever, and then she ran, tears streaming from her eyes as she charged into her room and threw the door closed behind her. She didn’t talk to him, even when he knocked on her door later to ask if she wanted some of the pie he had brought from old Anara’s. How was pie going to fix any of this anyway! She instead sobbed into the furs that covered her bed. Then alternated with hitting them, swinging her tiny arms and pounding away at the furs as though somehow they would convey the message to her father. It all served to make her feel a little better, but in the end, it solved nothing.

The next morning she woke to find her father cooking some pieon eggs he had clearly gotten from the village. She took her seat, and ate her food in silence. Her father just went on ahead talking about how he was going to spend the day looking for iron around the mountain, some of the villagers needed some tools repaired. Amanda eventually felt like talking to him, but she avoided the topic that had started the argument. She knew now that he wasn’t going to cave. It was over and for the entire day it all felt hopeless.

However that night, she sat in bed staring through the aura. When she got a new idea. She decided she was done asking her father to teach her. Instead she was going to figure it out all on her own. How hard could it be anyway? It didn’t even occur to her to think about what she had already been through on this journey, she only had eyes to look forwards. After all that's what her father always said, don’t worry about missteps along your way, you can only learn from them. Best to keep charging ahead!

She could already see the aura, and that was a huge help. After all she could see what her father did when he used his invisible hands now. He used them all the time, and even if Amanda didn’t know what he was doing specifically, she could see it. She would watch him when he was preoccupied, so she understood that the important part was that she needed to find a way to get the aura that lived in her body to move. If she could do that, if it could reach out then she could probably do the same things that her father could. It was in fact such a simple truth that she figured it might only take a few days.

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So she started staying up past her bedtime, just sitting up in the darkness of night. But it was fine, she could see the aura all around, day or night it was always moving, churning and full of various colors to her senses. She had long ago stopped fearing the darkness, what was there to fear anyway? She could see the aura, and that never left her!

Figuring out how to move her aura wasn’t so simple however. Weeks turned into months, and spring came again. She continued to watch her father for hints. He was a walking example, and she found herself watching him keenly, whether he was reaching out and picking things up, or moving the aura around in different ways. It all required that singular thing, she would need to be able to reach her own aura out. Yet even staying up late at night staring at her hands or arms trying to force the shifting surface that was her body to do things, it seemed impossible.

Trying to figure out how to move something she didn’t understand was slowly becoming an insurmountable goal. It had seemed so small, so simple at first. But months later she kept herself moving, after all it hadn’t been so easy to figure out aura sight either. But having made no progress, her ambitions of proving that she was ready to her father, all but dried up. Instead she was left with only frustration and late nights staring at herself in the aura.

Summer arrived, and just when she was losing hope that she would ever figure it out. One fateful night it happened, something inside of her raised away from her body. It was a small thing. Just a little bit of what was her reaching up from her palm. Like a tiny finger reaching out, but barely more than a bump. But to Amanda it was everything, what had been a failing resolve to even keep trying solidified into drive. What had been a mounting frustration evaporated and was replaced by confidence. She had done it, if only slightly, but that was enough, because as she pictured it, if she could only get started, she could dig in, and push for all she was worth. What else did she have to do anyway?

Emboldened by this tiny step forward she asked her father about Vanshimer, and about his time there. Trying to get tidbits of information to help her figure things out. He had no problems telling her stories of when he was younger. They were stories about teachers, or about a friend that joined him in the legion. But sometimes he dropped little clues, like how what Amanda was trying to do was move her shade. She wasn’t sure why it was called that, but she was pretty sure after a few stories and questions that's what it was called.

The lessons down in the village also started in earnest, and while she had initially been reserved about the whole idea. She realized that she needed more time away from her father. After all he could see her even if she was in her room, which was why it was getting harder to make progress. Once she could move her shade more than a little there was a major problem with her father figuratively standing over her shoulder at all hours.

She joined more lessons in the village, whether it was learning the bow from Joan, or learning how to skin and prepare a babbit from Anara. It didn’t really matter what it was, she both enjoyed learning, and needed the excuse to get away from her father. It didn’t matter if her father had already given her the basics, or if she already knew how to do it. Any excuse to head down the mountain seemed worth it.

That wasn’t to say that she stopped learning from her father. He started teaching her his martial arts. It was difficult, both getting used to the motions, as well as participating in the exercise. But she soaked it up, training at home in the morning, jogging down to the village, sometimes even if there was no lesson, going home in the evening.

Returning late into the evening one night she pulled the door closed behind her.

Her father was sitting in his chair, ideally using his invisible hands to carve at some wood. Something that most people in the village would use a chisel for.

“I’m back.” Amanda called.

Her father smiled at her, “It's a bit late isn’t it?”

“I just lost track of time practicing.” She replied, something she had been saying far too often recently.

“Should we make dinner?” He asked.

Amanda nodded, “Sure.” and took some time to collect a few vegetables that her father had growing in the small garden. While she did that her father retrieved a cut of meat from the cellar, a few herbs, and spices.

He handed over the meat to Amanda, who used the knife to cut the vegetables and meat into smaller pieces. Her father heated the hot plate he used to cook, and Amanda poured the seasoned meat and vegetables on to the heated surface.

While her father cooked the food she pulled two plates out. Then scrubbed free the debris from their cutting board.

Food finished, her father passed over a plate to her, and they took seats at the table, eating.

This night felt the same was the previous, and the one before that. It wasn’t the first time that Amanda had noticed it, but it might have been the first time she acknowledged it. Her father had a distant look to his eyes as he ate. Somehow Amanda knew how he felt, like even though they were in the same room, both eating the same dinner, they were a valley apart.

Even in the mornings exercises they stood opposite one another, moving in the same forms moving in the same way. Sure her father might offer a correction, or add a new motion. But once it was done it came back to this, to this strange sense of distance.

Amanda wanted to say something, wanted to cross that distance and connect. But what would she say? What was there to say? What was even wrong? She wasn’t sure. How did they get here?

In the end it was too easy to just eat, accept that maybe nothing was wrong after all, and move on, in the end it was easier that way. Not talking was easier than lying after all.