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Northward: Collection of Tales
Vignette - Fighting Lesson: Part 2

Vignette - Fighting Lesson: Part 2

“How bad is it?” Apolar asked, looking at the leg. His swallowed drily, trying to steady his breathing. Cravo was holding the wound tight with a hand, and as soon as he let go, blood oozed. It was a deep, but the blood flowed slowly, which meant no large arteries had been pierced. Off to the side, the alligator was bleeding profusely from his side.

“Hang on, and keep applying pressure on it,” Apolar said hurriedly. “I’m going to help the alligator first.” As he turned to go but Cravo held on to his wrist, leaving red stain on the white fur. “I know you are in pain; I will be right with you.”

“Apolar, he tried to kill us without provocation. I forbid you from wasting your medicine on him,” Cravo said, clenching his flat teeth as a jolt of pain seized his body. He let go of Apolar’s arm.

“He’s no danger to anyone now. I have to help!” There was a desperation in Apolar's words. It was as if what he said was incredibly obvious, yet completely unreasonable.

“You are disobeying me again!”

Apolar frowned. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his arm free as he hurried over to the alligator.

The wound was deep, and to make matters worse, the lizard had tried to remove the arrow and the head had broken inside. Were it not for his thick scales, he would be dead by now. As Apolar got closer, the alligator lashed his claws toward him.

“I’m going to help you,” Apolar said, but the wounded enemy remained aggressive. “Help,” Apolar said slowly, grabbing a bag of medicine from his pouch and showing it off. He then mimicked putting some medicine on himself. “Medicine.” The bear hoped the alligator could understand him. Their languages had similar roots but had diverged from each other for hundreds of years. Since then, neither population had put in the effort to communicate.

A few heartbeats passed with the two staring at each other and, finally, the alligator allowed the tension in his body to ease up. Apolar understood that as a signal that he could approach and did so promptly, bag in hand, ready to apply the ointment.

The bear placed a hand on the alligator’s shoulder reassuringly. The lizard was bigger than him — bigger than his dad, who was an alligator nearly two meters tall. He understood the Lost Pupil was dangerous even in this wounded state, but Apolar was confident no one would dare hurt their own healer.

“I will get the arrowhead out. This will hurt,” Apolar said. He was met with an angrily confused look; one that said, “I can’t understand you. Shut up and get on with it.”

The bear obeyed and reached on the alligator’s side with the tip of his claws. He felt around briefly, only the tension in the stomach muscles of the lizard betraying how much it hurt. Finally, he found the arrow, grasped it with his claws, and pulled it out with a swift motion.

The alligator let a loud roar out and Apolar ignored the massive open jaws near his neck, ready to bite down and crush his spine at a moment’s notice. Blood poured from the wound. Apolar had to work fast. He applied some of the ointment, which made the alligator trash even harder.

“Stop, stop!” Apolar commanded, and the alligator seemed to understand that. He slowed down, painful tears escaping his eyes. With his patient settled, Apolar could finish applying the sticky ointment, which was thick enough to stop the wound from bleeding.

The bear grabbed all the cloth he had in his pouch and bundled some together. He pressed some on the wound and dragged the alligator’s hand over it so he’d apply pressure. After that, he used the remaining cloth he had to wrap it around the alligator’s torso and affix the cloth in place. He finished it with a knot.

A few drops of blood stained the grey bandages, but the bleeding had stabilised. The alligator would survive if he did not develop an acute infection from the wound.

With some of the pain relieved, the alligator tried to stand, but Apolar quickly pressed his paw on his chest. “NO! Stay down!” Apolar defied the snarl that followed. “Stay. You will hurt yourself,” he commanded. The lizard settled in place with a grumble that sounded like a curse in Lost Pupil-ish. For a moment, the bear wondered what they called their language, but he quickly refocused. He needed to take care of Cravo.

By the time Apolar was ready, Cravo had already applied his own medicine on the wound. He was just finishing up the bandages.

“You could have waited for me. It’s better someone else does these things,” Apolar said.

“I was worried you’d find a bird and go chase it instead,” Cravo grumbled. “Help me up, we are going back.”

“W-what?” Apolar said with a frown.

“You are not ready. If you want to kill yourself in this jungle, that is between Nature and you, but you will not kill me.”

“But…” Apolar started to say, but changed his mind midway through his sentence. “Fine, I didn’t even want to go in the first place. But we are not leaving now, your wound could reopen. We should wait until tomorrow at least.”

“And have more Lost Pupils come kill us? No, thank you. We are leaving now.”

“No, we are not. If they want to find a bleeding taruca, they will. I could smell the blood and honey ointment from here to the ice deserts in the North. It’s better you don’t hurt yourself further so we can move quicker in the morning.”

Cravo growled. “After letting the Tapir go so he could stab me, you want to lecture me about strategy?” Apolar stuttered and his teacher continued over him. “Yes, don’t think I wouldn’t notice. You took his weapons and let him go, and I am the one that gets stabbed trying to save you.”

“I didn’t let him go—” Apolar mumbled under his breath.

“Is that so? Then he got the best of you and ran away, and you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me.”

Apolar had nothing to say to this. His teacher was right. “I… I should have told you. I’m sorry…” He said meekly. “It is my fault…”

“And then you waste all your medicine and supplies on an enemy! What are we going to do if you get hurt now? I certainly didn’t bring enough ointment for someone your size.”

“We could… we could forage. Nature provides—”

“By all three Gods, Apolar!” Cravo tried to stand up but his wound stopped him. With a deep breath he subdued whatever terrible thing he meant to say. There was no need for words, Apolar felt the anger radiating from his teacher.

“Make yourself useful and get a fire going. We won’t leave today,” Cravo said. “And pray that if someone sees our fire, they do not come to kill us.”

Apolar nodded quietly and walked away, somewhat relieved to escape that conversation. But his heart still carried a heavy guilt that no amount of foraging for sticks could help.

By the time he returned, the alligator was lying flat on the ground with his arms and legs tied. His eyes were closed, but he was awake. Cravo was sitting on a log, injured leg stretched forward, either praying or meditating.

Silently, Apolar built a small fire and got it started. Night was coming, and the air was chilly. The alligator wiggled closer to the flames without opening his eyes. Cravo, too, approached and sat closer to it without saying a word to Apolar.

While camping, Apolar could talk — according to Cravo’s rules, that is — but now he didn’t want to. His teacher was clearly very upset with him, and he did not want to listen to all the things he had done wrong. In his own opinion, what he did was right—mostly right; He only needed to be slightly faster to stop the tapir before he fled. But other than that, he was a massive bear! He had to make sure he did not hurt the critter any more than he intended to. Surely that is what Nature would want. Now, if only the little tapir also realised it was wrong to stab his teacher in the leg… But could Apolar really blame him? He was only defending his friend.

The argument went in circles in Apolar’s head until he heard the alligator groaning and scrunching his face. The grooves of pain on his face smoothed out and he laid there silently again.

“If you’re in pain, I have medicine,” Apolar said, sitting in front of the alligator who, after a few seconds, lazily opened one eye to look at the bear, third eyelid still covering it. “Medicine?” Apolar said again, showing off a little pouch with a faintly bitter smell.

The alligator stared at it for a moment, then rested his eyes back on Apolar. “Um… Pain?” The bear continued. “Injury? Wound?” He tried, hoping one word was alike the Lost Pupil’s language. It seemed like “wound” was it; the alligator repeated the word and reached for the bag slowly.

“Oh wait, not all of this, it’ll kill you,” Apolar said, pouring some of it on a leaf and handing it to the alligator.

The lizard looked at the medicine and tossed the whole leaf into his mouth. He stared at Apolar and grumbled something that meant “thank you very much, kind bear.” At least Apolar hoped it meant that.

Finally, Apolar sat with his back against a tree and relaxed. He had done something good, and it eased his conscience from his other mistakes.

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“You’re lucky to still have both your hands,” Cravo said.

“Huh? Oh—well, yes. I’m blessed to be born healthy,” Apolar responded.

Cravo sighed. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Is this some kind of lesson about being grateful for what I have? Because I am. I thank Nature every morning for all the gifts she’s given me,” Apolar said.

“No, Apolar, that is not what I meant,” Cravo lectured. “You are going to wave your hand in front of an alligator that was trying to kill. He could eat your whole arm before you have a chance to realise his jaws closed.”

“But… why would he want to do that? I was offering him medicine.”

“Why did he attack us in the first place?”

“Confused us with someone else, I imagine.”

Cravo took a deep breath before responding. “Maybe he wanted to kill something, or maybe he was teaching the other two how to do it. If you want to help your enemies so they have another chance at murdering you, have at it. If you listened to me, at least you’d be prepared to defend yourself.

Apolar thought for a few moments, then answered, “Be prepared… well, maybe I don’t need to prepare myself if I am always nice. Maybe everyone being prepared all the time for the worst makes the worst come true. I don’t want to live thinking that everyone is about to hurt me.”

“That’s not… Apolar,” Cravo said with a sigh, “you don’t have to live in fear and distrust everyone. It’s not all or nothing. But you must distrust people sometimes and always know how to defend yourself.”

“Be prepared...” Apolar remembered how not-prepared he was to get punched on the snout.

“Always, even when you do not intend to hurt anyone. Preparation comes years before the fighting starts.”

“But I don’t know how to choose who to distrust, and I don’t want to become paranoid. Maybe I need more training, but I don’t want to keep thinking about how I’ll use it to hurt someone in the future.”

Cravo rubbed the stumps that were once a large set of antlers. “You are the one who will choose how to use your body, Apolar. Better technique also means knowing how much force to use, how to reach your goal without having to hurt someone more than you need.”

“I… I did think I had killed the tapir on accident,” Apolar admitted.

“Exactly. I used exactly the force I needed to knock out the nasua without killing him. There are no guarantees in a fight. Sometimes people’s bodies are more frail than we think, but your technique matters. It is precision to hurt, but also to avoid hurting more than necessary.

“Maybe it would be good for me to learn how to disarm people, or dodge better,” Apolar said.

Cravo nodded. “We have made some progress today. If you take your training seriously and understand how important it is, I will have done my part. Maybe in Caiaguas you will understand. Using your body to the fullest is truly what Nature intends for all of us.”

“So, we are still going?” Apolar said with a shy smile.

“Yes. You are still a naïve student that doesn’t know when to stop talking back to your teachers, and you disobey me and—” Cravo took a deep breath and stopped himself from going further. “Yes, we’re still going. It will help you learn.” He yawned. “I’m going to sleep. You take first watch.”

That wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Apolar was happy. He nodded confidently and grabbed a chunk of dry wood to carve while his teacher slept. The alligator soon fell asleep.

The night went on with no incidents. Apolar and Cravo alternated their watches, which only allowed each to get half of a night of sleep.

At sunrise, Apolar offered his morning prayers to Nature. He placed some of the pain medicine he had on a leaf and left it near the alligator before getting ready to leave. Cravo had to be helped up, but could walk by himself if he had trees to support himself.

Before leaving, Apolar walked over to the alligator and drew his knife. The reptile stared defiantly at him, as if daring the bear to cut him up. Of course, Apolar did not intend to do such a terrible thing. He cut the rope tying the alligator’s arms, then reached for his ankles. Cravo stopped him.

“Don’t waste rope like that,” he said. “Just untie him.”

“Right,” Apolar responded as if it was obvious from the start and undid the knots.

The alligator and the bear stared at each other for a moment. Apolar offered a smile. The lizard simply nodded and sat up, turning his back to the bear, and checking on his wound.

They continued their journey, leaving the alligator behind. With Cravo’s limp, they were travelling much slower than before, but still made good progress.

Several minutes later, Apolar smelled something vaguely familiar. He tapped his teacher’s shoulder quietly and pointed at his nose. Cravo stopped, smelled the air, but detected nothing. The taruca looked around, patiently studying his surroundings, and, this time, Apolar mimicked him. He noted what his teacher focused on and made mental notes of questions to ask for later.

Apolar spotted something in the canopies. He tapped his teacher’s shoulder just as the nasua dropped. They dodged a slash of his knife just in time.

Cravo tried to draw his weapon, but he leaned on his leg and a jolt of pain made him hesitate. Before he could react, the nasua had a knife on his hip, right between the stitching of his leather armour. The critter stared at him smugly and the larger taruca relaxed his shoulders, yielding.

Apolar approached to help his teacher when the tapir got in between the two of them. It was very frustrating for the bear to not be able to smell his enemies coming. He advanced toward Apolar fiercely with his knife and the bear once backed away expertly. Apolar bumped his side against a tree he had failed to notice. The tapir hopped on some branches with surprising agility and lunged for Apolar’s neck with his blade.

The bear, with little option, drew his knife and parried the blow. With so much momentum behind the strike, Apolar stammered and dropped his weapon. The tapir used the opening to place a knife on the bear’s ribs.

“Alright, you won,” Apolar said, dropping his own knife. “I don’t know what we’re even fighting about, if I am being honest. I am sure this can be solved over some tea and—” The tapir barked something that had the clear meaning of “shut up or I’ll skewer you.”

The Lost Pupils gathered Apolar and Cravo, made them get on their knees, and then tied their hands back. They disarmed the two of them; Apolar’s obsidian knife was with the tapir and Cravo’s weapon with the nasua. The Lost Pupil had trouble handling the big stick of wood and obsidian; it was almost as big as his entire body.

“Alligator,” the nasua said with finality.

“You want to know where he is?” Apolar asked. “He is fine, he—”

The tapir shouted the words that meant “shut up” and continued with some angry rambling.

Apolar looked at Cravo to see if he had any insight, but his teacher had his eyes closed, looking oddly calm.

“What do you think this is about?” Apolar whispered to his teacher while the tapir went on.

“Clearly, they think we killed the alligator and want revenge.”

“But they are not going to—”

“Kill us? Yes. They are going to. Now shut up and let me have a few moments to pray.”

“But… But we… They wouldn’t—” Apolar was at a loss for words. Unlike his teacher, he found no peace in the idea of being executed. Worst of all, the tapir was brandishing his obsidian knife! He put a lot of care into knapping that thing, and it was not supposed to be used for killing anyone — much less himself.

Finally, the tapir stopped speaking, seemingly oblivious to the fact the two prisoners couldn’t understand but a few loose words. He opened his palm, asking the nasua for Cravo’s weapon, then examined it.

The tapir readied the obsidian blade next to Apolar’s neck. The bear couldn’t even look at it. He was in a state of terrified disbelief.

“Wait. He didn’t hurt your friend,” Cravo said, “I did. If you’re going to kill someone, kill me.” He said it with confidence. The tapir and the taruca exchanged glares. Despite not speaking each other's languages, they understood each other. The Lost Pupil nodded, placed the obsidian weapon on Cravo’s neck, and readied himself.

“I hope he lets you go. If not, then enjoy a few more seconds in this life. We’ll meet in the next if Nature allows it.” Cravo said with a strange serenity.

Apolar, still in disbelief, did not find the words to respond to his teacher. He stared, watching the obsidian blades glimmer in the morning light. The weapon suddenly came down with force. Apolar closed his eyes tightly.

Everything was quiet. It was like the birds and the insects disappeared. The world held its breath in suspense. Apolar smelled blood.

When Apolar found the courage to open his eyes, he saw. The alligator standing before him, holding the tapir’s wrist. The tiny mammal was trying to wiggle free. but a single squeeze from the reptile made him let go of the weapon. He slashed and clawed at the alligator, but his larger companion barely registered it, simply tossing the mammal away.

The tapir growled and pointed at Cravo, but the alligator interrupted him. He spoke slower than the mammal and his voice was far more commanding. The tapir seemed to flinch after certain inflections until he could not even look the larger Lost Pupil in the eye.

After much protest from the tapir, the alligator growled an order, then pointed at Apolar and then at the injury on his side. The tapir continued to argue, repeatedly barking a word that Apolar came to recognise as meaning “taruca”. Annoyed, the alligator seized the tapir by the neck and lifted him up.

Apolar thought the alligator was about to eat his comrade, but after a few more growls, he let the tapir go, allowing him to fall on a bush with a yelp. During this exchange, the nasua was quiet. He watched from a distance, seemingly unconcerned.

The alligator walked over to Apolar, grabbed the obsidian knife, and released the vines that bound the bear. With a defiant glare at the taruca, he off Cravo’s bindings too. He handed the knife over to Apolar, nodded briefly.

The alligator walked away, growling a command that prompted the nasua and tapir to follow. The tapir afforded one last glance at Apolar and Cravo, resentful and angry, before departing.

Apolar stashed his knife away on his belt, hands shaking. He fell forward on the grass and laid there for a moment, exhausted.

“This was the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever been through,” Apolar said.

“Fourth most terrifying for me,” Cravo said, putting away his own weapon casually. “It’s not as scary as being hunted down by a beast. Those two fur balls hadn’t killed anyone before. Hesitated too much.”

“You… you call that hesitating? He was ready to — you know — that thing with your head.”

“Yes, that thing with my head,” Cravo said, mildly amused as he sat down and took a moment to breathe.

“I… owe you an apology,” Apolar admitted, still on the ground.

“One?”

“Fine. Several. I understand what you were saying before,” Apolar said, pulling his snout out of the dirt.

“Go on.”

“The thing about being prepared. Maybe I don’t know who I have to distrust, but I want to be prepared. If I were ready for the tapir to strike, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If I had defeated him today, we wouldn’t have needed a blessing from Nature to escape. I want to be as prepared and strong as you. Whenever I have to fight, I want to win.”

Cravo looked mildly pleased, which, to Apolar, was an excellent sign. “Good. We’ll work on your judgment later, but…” he took a moment to think, then finally allowed himself to speak. “What got us out was no miracle. You did. You were kind to the alligator, and he saved us. If we had killed him like I said we should, we wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps there is some merit to your way of doing things.”

A surprised smile grew on Apolar’s face. Cravo had to stop it before it was too late. “Not that you were completely right. There are many more precautions you could have taken to minimise risk, and we wouldn’t have been in this situation if you hadn’t attracted the Lost Pupils by babbling to my arara while we travelled, or if you had paid attention to my class—”

“The arara was yours!?”

“Yes. Why else would it follow us here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we’d get off track! Like now!” Cravo grumbled, and Apolar held back a chuckle. “Now, getting back to the topic at hand. I want you to use what happened today as inspiration to learn everything you can in our sojourn. If only I knew all I had to do was scare you a little…”

“I’m going to listen to you if it’ll avoid this happening again, don’t worry,” Apolar reassured Cravo. “Well, most of the time, anyway,” he chuckled.

Cravo nodded as if saying, “you disappoint me slightly less than before.”

“Come, Apolar, there is much land for us to cross. The mountain home is waiting for us.”

Cravo offered Apolar a hand to stand up and the bear happily accepted it.

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