Closing the book with a solid thump, Kinsoriel raised his eyes to the bushes. Who dares interrupt him? Regardless of what he was doing, even if it was such an asinine thing as teaching a mortal, it should demand respect. Whatever had made that growl would learn this soon enough.

“Show yourself!” His words were met with infuriating silence. As he was raising himself, something stepped out.

It stood on its hind legs, a tall and lanky thing when compared to a human. It had a mangy coat of whitish-grey fur with brown accents. The structure of its bones resembled that of a wolf, though a bit softer. It's ribs were visible through it's skin, suggesting it hadn't eaten in a while. Although not as common in his territory, all of this together allowed Kinsoriel to know exactly what it was; a Yotee.

“I’m sorry your greatness!” the yotee sniveled before him with its tail between its legs, “I didn’t know that was your prey!”

His prey? Oh, it was talking about the little author. “No,” he said as he cast a glance at the man, “I’m not eating this deathbound.”

At this, the Yotee’s ears perked up. “Then… may I have him?”

Kinsoriel couldn’t help but make a growl of his own at this. “You may not.” He could hear a small breath of relief from his side.

The Yotee snarled. “Why not?” It started rearing itself back a bit, hunching over. “It’s not fair that you dragons can just take what you want, and not even eat immediately! Come on,” It crouched back even further, “I’ll just take one bite!”

Once it finished speaking, it sprung forward, leaping and bounding towards Benjamin with slobbering delight. The little author moved behind the dragon as this happened. It’s a shame he would miss this example of what happens to those who don’t listen. The aftermath would have to suffice.

With reflexes honed from centuries of use, Kinsoriel raised his free hand to the side. The Yotee unwittingly flung himself into the dragon’s palm as he attempted to get around him. A cruel look crept along his maw, closing his hand around the beast until he felt a decisive pop. He let go of the crushed sack of fur and blood, letting it fall to the ground with a wet flop. As he began licking off what had splattered onto his claws, Benjamin peaked back into view.

“Is it over?” What a stupid question. Of course it was already over. That cur thought it could just ignore its better and do as it pleased.

It was strange how it had been so brazen though. Scavenger types usually knew not to test him, even if they were starving like this one. Perhaps being half his real size had diminished his intimidation. Regardless, whether born from hunger or misplaced confidence, it was beyond foolish to think that would have worked against him.

Benjamin circled around, shaking his head upon seeing what remained. Kinsoriel scrunched up his face a bit as he thought of something. Why had he hidden himself? A deathbound’s ingrained cowardice couldn’t be blamed here. That blasted ‘rule’ of his would negate any attempts on his life, so what was this?

“Little author,” he said, waiting a moment to get his attention, “why did you cower behind me?”

The deathbound took a moment to answer back, looking like he didn’t fully grasp what was asked at first. “So that you could deal with this guy a bit easier.” He gestured at the lump with a slight grimace.

It felt like the truth, but something about this was tickling the back of his mind. With nothing else to go off of at the moment though, he decided he would need to revisit this later.

Besides that, he still needed to begin his lesson. He opened his book back up, making sure that it hadn't been touched by any viscera. Ensuring it's cleanliness, he gave a ‘come here’ point at the ground beside him. Once his pupil-to-be joined him at his side, they resumed their little reading session.

Reading with one who was barely a step above a newborn was as difficult as it sounds. Having to say what each word meant ticked off the dragon a bit, but he knew what he would be getting into. At least he didn’t need to define them, and pronunciation was an issue he surprisingly never ran into. There was just one exception to this.

“Etherkinetic Flow?” the little author said curiously, “What is that?”

With a talon, Kinsoriel traced thin streaks of mana through the air in the crude shape of a dragon. “This is the mana that we all hold within,” he said as he gestured to the figure, “in many ways, it resembles blood circulation.” He put a hole through the middle of it with his index claw. “Unlike blood, there is no organ to pump it. It instead flows through us all on its own.” With his claw, he overlaps the limbs of the figure with additional mana, making them look larger. “Also unlike blood, you can control where it goes.”

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After his little demonstration, he waves away the mana dismissively. “That is etherkinetic flow, though it may also be called E.K. to shorten it. Any questions?” Benjamin’s face lit up as he finished his explanation, though not of any emotion. It looked more like he had suddenly remembered something more than anything.

“Nope, I’ve got it,” he said confidently. Nodding, Kinsoriel resumed the read-through.

Time had flown by before he knew it. The sun had already started to fall below the horizon as night quickly approached. To his honest surprise, the little author seemed to absorb all this information like a gluttonous sponge. From his occasional glances, Kinsoriel noted it wasn’t pretend either. He was actually engrossed in his words. Surely, the dragon had a gift for teaching he hadn’t realized till now.

But now came time for his first test. “Now that I have gone over the basics with you, I want you to show me what you have learned.”

Clapping his hands together, the deathbound bowed his head. “Sure, what can I do for you,” he paused before finishing, “master?”

Smirking, Kinsoriel closed the book and took it back. “You will perform the ‘light’ spell, and you will do it as a dragon would; without aides.” Was he being too demanding? Absolutely, that’s the point. Such a failure would only solidify how different the teacher is from the student. He waited with knowing humor, eager to commit his pupil’s impending blunder to mem-

“Light.” The man held a hand above his head, and from it came a ball of light. It was of very poor strength, barely fit to illuminate more than a couple of feet, but it was unmistakably ‘light’. It sputtered out of existence shortly after.

Awash with surprise, Kinsoriel first thought the most obvious reason this was possible; he had cheated. Slinking around the area to find just how, he checked every possible way he could think of. No notes among the trees or etched in their bark. The air tasted the same as it did before the test. Despite giving a weird look, Benjamin obliged when asked to show his hands and arms. Smooth and devoid of any ink.

All this searching only ended up refuting his assumption. There simply wasn’t any way to have cheated in such a short time, especially when he was watching all along.

This deathbound managed to do what many of his brethren could never hope to accomplish. And on his first attempt.

“Did I pass?” he asked as he rolled his sleeves back down. Kinsoriel did his best not to appear overly enthused. The last thing he needed was a servant who would think himself a prodigy.

“You performed well by mortal standards,” he said dismissively with a shrug of his wings, “far below the mark of a dragon of course, but I can see a speck of potential there.”

Benjamin’s face dropped a bit at the lackluster review. “Don’t despair, we’ll make you a worthwhile servant yet.” He raised a claw. “I think you do deserve a reward for your efforts, however.” While it was important to establish his authoritative role, recognizing accomplishments was just as vital. Even if he would never admit such a thing, he had been impressed today.

It took a minute or two to dig it out, but he had made another fire pit. After depositing the body of the Yotee in it, he started cooking it with precise breaths of fire. This was one of the few situations he preferred his breath to spellcraft. Better flavor, a nice even char, and even a bit relaxing. The sizzling and crackling were like music to him, the sounds of a successful roast.

After thoroughly cooking the Yotee, Kinsoriel began to divide the meat into different sections, setting aside a special piece for his student. Once placed on a stone for weak mortal skin, he called the man over. “Here is your reward,” he said as he handed him his portions.

Instead of gratitude or thanks, the little author looked almost revolted. “Is that… a brain?”

Kinsoriel nodded with pride. “Eat it, and you shall deepen your connection with Wex. It’s an essential part of any budding spellcrafter.”

After poking and prodding at it, he seemed to understand its value and smiled shakily. “T-thanks.”

He must not have believed that Kinsoriel could ever be so generous as to give up the prime cut. While it was a bit more of a reward than he deserved, it was also another part of his training. This would reinforce desirable behavior, make him give his all to please. Maybe reading that animal taming guide for a laugh years ago wasn’t such a bad idea.

Satisfied with the act, he started to partake himself. Despite his skillful cooking, Yotee meat still tasted mediocre at best. Every hunk he bit off just confirmed this. Their lack of taste is probably one of their best deterrents to being hunted. Their scrawny nature was another. This could be seen when Kinsoriel was left a bit hungry, even after eating every last bit of meat.

While disappointing, it was enough to keep him sated for the night. He looked over to his pupil to see how he enjoyed his treat. The brain lay half-eaten on his stone. Benjamin himself looked quite queasy.

“Ooooohhhhh…” he groaned as he lay a hand on his stomach. It seemed his pupil wasn’t used to the delicacy. “I think-” Benjamin started before putting a hand in front of his mouth and almost retching, “I think I’ll be going to bed now.”

Kinsoriel lightly waved a hand, dismissing him. Though a bit sad that he couldn’t eat all of it, that didn’t mean that brain would go to waste. He snatched the rest of it up for himself while the deathbound got out his sleeping roll. Mmm… a much better way to end a meal, a nice and creamy palate cleanser.

He’d have to rectify taking back some of that reward tomorrow. It was on him as the master to do so after all, and he took his title very seriously. Everything said and done, he curled himself up and drifted off to sleep.