Vrael couldn't help but laugh. "Oh dear, you really don't know anything." With a dagger in hand, he struck the shimmering stone, which he called flint, with the back of the blade. Sparks flew through the air, dancing like tiny stars across the ground. He placed some thin twigs in the pit. "Light them up!"

"This can't be that hard. So why do I have to do it?" Aria took the items with confidence. With a determined look in her eyes, she let the dagger strike the flint just as he had shown her. Sparks rained down onto the wood. Nothing happened. Her face turned red as she frowned and tried again.

Obsessively, she hammered the dagger onto the stone. "Why isn't this working?" Her frustration grew as she focused on the wet wood that stubbornly refused to catch fire.

Vrael held his hand to his mouth and watched her, amused. It was hard for him to hide his laughter. At first, she had seemed so cold and distant, but here in the wild, she blossomed into something else entirely. "She's so clumsy and reckless," he thought to himself, feeling an unexpected sense of joy at her persistence.

"What's the matter? I thought the fire was already going," he called out as she continued hammering the dagger against the flint.

"I thought so too," she admitted, defeated, as she realized the sobering truth.

Finally, Vrael couldn't hold back any longer. A hearty laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, wait a minute. I forgot to mention something. You can't make fire like this. You need tinder."

"You..." She glared at him, a mix of anger and disbelief in her eyes. "You tricked me."

"Accusations. Baseless accusations," he replied with a wide grin. "Can't you see my age? Things like this happen sometimes."

"If you sleep, I'll steal your wine bottles," she threatened, her gaze challenging.

"Fine," Vrael replied, pulling something from his pocket. "This is a tinder fungus. You dry it. Also, finely shredded birch bark or the inside of the brown heads of cattails works well." He held up the fungus.

Furiously, she grabbed the piece of fungus. "This only glows. I will steal your wine for real," she said, her voice filled with defiance as the urge to prove to him that she wasn’t easily tricked bloomed inside her.

"I wasn't finished explaining," Vrael said, giving her a challenging look. "When the fungus glows, you take dry grass, place the fungus in it, and blow."

She snatched the grass from his outstretched hand. "It’s burning! Ha, I'm not stupid. You’re the fool." Her confidence seemed to grow with every moment as she stepped into the fresh air and inhaled the earthy scent of nature.

Once the fire was hot enough, they skewered two larger fish onto sticks and placed them over the fire. The crackling of the flames was soothing, while her stomach growled with hunger. "It needs salt and pepper," she complained, eyeing the fish sizzling over the flames.

"That's what happens when you're nobility. You’re used to too much luxury. Better get used to it."

They ate all the fish—both the big ones and the small ones. The taste was simple but satisfying. As they chewed, Aria looked around at the forest surrounding them. The trees stood close together, their branches forming a green canopy that let the light of the setting sun filter through in shimmering beams.

The smell of burning wood mingled with the fresh, cool air of the forest and the sweet aroma of the fish roasting over the fire.

"So, I hope you're mentally prepared." Vrael pulled out two sticks that roughly resembled the shape of a longsword. His eyes were serious now, making it clear to her that she was about to face a challenging lesson.

He tossed one to her, and she caught it nimbly. The weight in her hands was almost as heavy as a real sword.

"I chose beech wood on purpose. Beech is hardwood. It has a good weight. I'll attack. You focus on parrying!"

With a determined look, Vrael leaped forward. His stick swooshed through the air. The blow struck her with full force. She crashed heavily to the ground.

The air was knocked from her, and she gasped for breath. A sharp pain spread throughout her body. With great effort, she managed to get back to her feet. "That’s too fast, how am I supposed to..."

Boom!

A hard hit to her stomach interrupted her complaints. The pain sliced through her body. She fought with all her strength to suppress the cry of agony rising in her.

"Less complaining, more blocking!" Vrael’s voice was as sharp as the stick he wielded.

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Shaking, she stood up, fighting to regain her balance. A strike to her leg made her scream. The pain coursed through her, and when a second blow followed, she crumpled again. "Get up!"

"It all hurts," she whimpered, staring at her swollen cheek in the light of the morning sun. Everywhere, bruises ached, marking yet another day of relentless lessons. Her master had beaten her, and she hadn’t been able to block a single strike.

"When you block, it doesn’t hurt as much."

"How am I supposed to do that? You're too fast." Frustration swelled within her.

"Then be faster." Vrael swept her feet out from under her, and she fell to the ground again.

"Did that really have to happen?" she asked, looking up at him with a hurt expression. But as she was getting up, he kicked her legs out once more.

"Until you stay on your feet. By the way, we're following this river from now on."

Another week passed. Nothing remarkable happened during that time. Her master beat her every evening. She felt the physical pain gradually becoming part of her routine. Her eyes were slowly managing to follow the sword, but her body just wouldn’t obey.

Every night, she stood frustrated and exhausted in front of him, but she knew she couldn’t give up. Amidst the pain and defeat, a small spark of determination flickered within her. Fueled by the steady flow of the river beside her, a constant symbol of change and hope.

Along the way, she killed many more brownies. They were currently camped near a majestic waterfall. Aria sat at the edge of the water, dreamily watching the water tumble down in foaming cascades. It was the first time she had ever seen a waterfall with her own eyes. The sight was breathtaking. "So beautiful," she murmured as the mist gently blew against her face.

Vrael quietly appeared behind her. A kick aimed at her legs. Instinctively, she heard him coming, jumped upward, and avoided the strike.

"I did it! You didn’t hit me!" she called out proudly, feeling as if she were floating in the air.

"Please let me know how warm it is," Vrael said, giving her a strong shove. In the next moment, she was plunged into the cold water.

"Not again!" she yelled as the icy water immediately enveloped her body. The shock made her gasp. "Cold!"

"How cold exactly?" Vrael grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Come on in, you stupid old fart!" She splashed angrily with her hands in the water, trying to get back on her feet.

"I'm considering it. Let me drink some more wine first. By the way, I like this spot. We're staying here for a while." Vrael leaned back against a tree, pulling a bottle from his pack.

"What about possible pursuers?" Her voice turned serious, a shiver of concern creeping over her.

"Them? They're either already somewhere around us or they're not," Vrael replied casually, as if the danger was far away and irrelevant.

Her gaze became immediately suspicious. Left, right—nothing to see.

"Let it go. You won't find them anyway."

"Why?"

"It would be in their favor if we panicked. As long as you stay with me, it's my problem. I'll take care of them, not you." His expression turned serious.

"True," she thought, feeling motivated. "She had her own senile old fart. He'd turn them into mush.

"By the way, when's your birthday?" he asked with a wide grin, as if trying to lighten the mood.

"June eighth," Aria answered, contemplating how far away that day was.

"So, about half a year. Never mind. Look on the bright side. We have all day to train," Vrael responded, his eyes fixed on the gentle waves of the waterfall.

"Nice, I'm thrilled. I'm going to die," she muttered, a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Think of it positively. I can take my time," he grinned mischievously, a spark of humor in his eyes.

"What's positive about that?" She couldn't help but scoff, looking at him challengingly.

"Quit complaining. Do you see the plants over there?" He pointed to the reeds swaying gently in the wind near the water's edge.

She nodded silently, her curiosity piqued.

"Pick six of the thicker ones. Cut them off at the base. Inside this plant is starch. That means energy. Once you have them, catch us some fish." His voice was firm.

As dusk fell, they sat together by a cozy campfire, its warm light casting a glow in the cool air. Vrael had decided to stop with the secrecy. "Either they're here, or they're not," he had said, and Aria found comfort in his determination.

"Why is fish important for us?" he asked as she stared into the flames.

"So we can get full?" she replied with a bored tone.

"No, well, yes, but that's not what I meant. It's important to have a variety of foods. Meat, for example, has different concentrations of protein. Plants are important, too. Otherwise, we'd suffer from vitamin deficiencies. What I'm getting at is, we need to hunt."

Vrael placed some materials on the fire. "I'll show you how to make a bow."

"Take a stick, bend it, and attach a string?" She sounded skeptical, as it seemed too simple to her.

"Go ahead. You can watch me eat after," he responded in that usual "try it and fail" tone.

"Doesn't work?" She crossed her arms.

"If you're lucky, you'll shoot a frog. Nothing more. For the bow, we use ash wood. It's hard, flexible, and often grows by water. Before you ask, I'll show you later how to recognize it. Step one: find the center. Step two: mark the length of the grip. Step three: remove material from one side."

Once he was done, he hollowed out a thin, long groove. It was the length of the bow. He placed glowing embers from the fire into it. Then, he picked up large leaves, almost half a meter long.

"This is a sorrel plant. When you stack a few of them, they burn through slowly." He wrapped the bow in the leaves and laid it on the embers. Next, he added more embers on top, followed by dirt.

"The bow itself is done. It'll stay buried here until tomorrow noon. Now, we move on to the arrows. For that, we use hazel wood. It's straight, flexible, and hard."

He removed the branches and bark, then held the sticks over the fire. "If you heat them, you can adjust their shape. It makes them even straighter." He did this with a dozen sticks. Aria helped him.

Next, he showed her how to make birch pitch from birch bark. With the pitch, they attached feathers from a water bird to the arrow shafts. All that was left was the tip.

Vrael showed her two types. The first was made from the bones of a sprite. Barbs could even be worked into the tips. The second variant was stones from the river. They struck them against each other until a piece broke off, already bearing the rough shape they needed.

They ground them down on a stone from the river. Late into the night, they finished their handiwork, satisfied. Then they went to sleep.