Rasp personally never understood the practice of meditation. For one, reining in the unconscious squirms and fidgets his body made seemingly all on its own was damn near impossible. He was a natural squirmer, after all. And even then, his head presented a greater challenge. It was rarely quiet, churning out a constant stream of miscellaneous thoughts incapable of being calmed nor quelled. The effort to get both his body and his mind to behave themselves at the same time was simply too great of a challenge to even try.

At least until something less desirable came along, of course. And then Rasp was suddenly all about meditation. Like training, for example. Instead of participating in his lesson, Rasp was envisioning himself as a flower, who existed only to take in the sun and sway listlessly in the crisp autumn breeze.

A strong hand gripped the top of his knee, shaking him from his plant-life bliss. Judging from his tone, Hop did not sound nearly as ecstatic that Rasp had achieved his afternoon-long dream of becoming one with the universe. “Are you even listening?”

Rasp kept his palms pressed together, not because it helped with his concentration, but because it seemed fittingly pretentious for someone who was using meditation as a means to procrastinate. “Flowers do not need to listen. They simply exist.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Shh,” Rasp shushed as he lifted his finger to Hop’s face and smashed it against the faun’s nose in a poor attempt to find his lips. “We’re meditating.”

“There is a world of difference between true meditation and ignoring someone because you don’t want to roll up your sleeves and get to work. I think we both know which category you fall into.”

Rasp tentatively opened one eye and squinted accusingly at Hop’s blurry shape. “Flowers do not have sleeves.”

“They don’t have mouths either. Which, in case you have forgotten, are necessary to eat with.”

“Back to talking about mastication already? So predictable, Hopalong.” It was adorable how terrible Hop was at keeping him on task. Honestly, Rasp didn’t know what Whisper had been thinking. Leaving him and Hop alone, together? With the expectation that Rasp actually learn something? Ha! The only one learning a valuable lesson would be Hop–specifically, to never accept another last-minute assignment from Whisper ever again.

Rasp’s only regret was that his temporary instructor had not yet realized the futility of the undertaking. He tried to ease Hop into reluctant acceptance with a patronizing pat on the head. “Come, leave behind your endless wanting and be a flower with me.”

“I don’t want to be a flower. I want to do the lesson,” Hop said miserably. “Come on, Rasp, please? I never get to test any of my ideas. I planned an entire lesson around it and everything.”

Guilt gnawed at Rasp’s resolve. Whereas most people either used bribery or threats to strong-arm him into compliance, Hop wasn’t employing either of these tried and true tactics. It was as if he expected sheer pity alone to work in his favor. The idea was laughable. Almost as much as the fact that it was working. Almost. Lucky for him, Rasp was equipped with a fickle moral compass and an arsenal of distractions at the ready for keeping the guilt-riddled feelings buried deep down out of sight.

“Oh, that reminds me! I have a new joke for you.” Rasp nudged the dismal faun with his shoulder, grinning. “What do you call a debate about mastication?”

“Nothing. Because that’s not a thing.”

Rasp’s devious smile grew wider. “A mas-debation.”

The joke earned both an ear flap and an irritated snort, scoring it a solid two out of three on the Annoyed Faun Scale. Alas, Hop had no appreciation for the humorous things in life and refused to give any acknowledgement to Rasp’s overwhelming creativity whatsoever. “Whisper warned that I might have to get firm with you.”

“Oh, Hoppy. You know I can’t resist when you talk dirty like that.”

“If you’re not interested in participating, then maybe you’d prefer some light reading? We could start with my favorite volume on the frequencies of magic and move on to the heavier subjects once we’ve gone through it beginning to end.”

So much for not resorting to threats.

“Ugh,” Rasp performed a full body slump in protest. Despite his many brilliant and hilarious attempts, the damned faun would simply not be deterred from his lesson plan. “Why are you being so insistent about this? Whisper’s not even here. It’s not a requirement to dedicate every spare second of the day to training, you know. Too much learning is bad for the brain.”

“I can’t believe this,” Hop huffed. “You may be the single most magical person I have ever encountered, and you have not a single curious bone in your body.”

Rasp lifted his finger over his head pedantically. “That’s not true. I have a very curious-looking bone. You’ve said so yourself.”

“Where is your sense of wonder?” Hop refused to break from his tirade to point out that the body part Rasp was referring to didn’t qualify as a bone. Not even to reassert the part where he wished to never see it again. “We’re testing magical theories that have never been touched on before. A witch that can manipulate two separate elements at the same time? Possibly more? This could be the breakthrough of the century!”

That all sounded like work. A concept Rasp typically avoided at all costs, oftentimes at the expense of creating more work down the road. But that was Future Rasp’s problem. Present Rasp merely wanted to enjoy the sunshine a little bit longer before Whisper and Father returned and he had to climb back onto the damn mule.

Hop, unfortunately, already knew he’d won their battle of wills. “I’ve arranged three objects in front of you. Like before, each one represents a different element. I’ve added a twist this time, but we’ll get to that. Begin with water. Relying solely on your magic, locate the water and use your powers to manipulate it.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Ever since learning about Rasp’s newfound ability to influence multiple elements at once, Hop had been abuzz with all sorts of lofty ideas on how to apply it to his current training regimen. Rasp was not so keen. Manipulating one element by itself without it blowing up in his face was hard. Two at the same time seemed like a recipe for disaster. Making it rain, for example, was good. Making it rain fire was, arguably, less good.

“But–”

“It’s either this or the book.”

Realizing his options had run out at last, Rasp thrust his hand out in front of him with a groan. At least they were starting with water. He liked water. It was relatively straightforward and, in small quantities, harmless. Unlike fire, which hurt like a bitch when he got it wrong. The prickle of magic coursed down his arm and gathered in his fingertips. Clearing his mind of distractions, Rasp closed his eyes and drew into himself. He felt the magic lift from his skin and twist and curl in the air, seeking its intended source. The light in his mind flared blue as it made contact with the element he sought.

A wry smirk pulled at his mouth as Rasp flicked his fingers. He was rewarded with a splash and a startled yelp from Hop.

“While dumping water on my head constitutes manipulation, it is not what I meant,” the faun gruffed.

“I think it earned a corn cake, no?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.” This time Rasp spread his fingers apart, widening the scope of his magic as he searched for the next element. The second object was proving more difficult than the first. Despite Hop’s insistence otherwise, Rasp could not find the earth element with his magic. After the umpteenth time, he dropped his hand into his lap with a resigned sigh. “Can I give up now, please? I can’t find the stupid rock.”

“Earth is made up of more than just rocks, Rasp.”

“Great. Don’t care.”

“Here.” Hop uncurled Rasp’s fingers and placed something cold into his hand. “Don’t think about it, just feel it.” After a few seconds of awkward silence, the faun clarified. “With your magic.”

Too late. Rasp’s fingers were all that were necessary to identify it. “I think you’re the first person to ever give me a knife willingly.”

Sensing Rasp needed less of a push in the right direction and something more akin to a full body-slam, Hop explained, “One of the main components of that blade is iron. Iron is a mineral mined from the earth. Given that you grew up in an area with an abundance of iron, I suspect you may be more sensitive to it than you realize. Being able to seek iron with your magic and manipulate it could be a serious advantage to you.”

Rasp twiddled the blade absentmindedly between his fingers. “How so?”

“Use your magic to find the iron object in front of you and I’ll tell you.”

Biting back the groan that lodged in his throat, Rasp gripped the blade in one hand and stretched the other out in front of him. Once more, he sent tendrils of magic into the air like runners from a vine. Using the iron in his hand as a reference, he checked the energy signals of the objects closest to him, searching for one that matched. At last, he found it. The object glowed in his mind’s eye a dull red.

“Ha!” Hop exclaimed. “You’ve got it, good. Now hold your concentration. We’re going to introduce our last element.”

Rasp heard a match strike and then the gentle burn of flame. The fact that it didn’t go out after a few seconds told him Hop had used it to light their lantern.

“Oh good,” Rasp sighed. “We’re adding fire. This usually ends well.”

It was too bad he’d already dumped the water.

“The iron object is a pan. I want you to use the energy from the fire to manipulate the iron.”

“This feels like an overly complicated ploy for me to make dinner. You could have just asked.”

The excitement in Hop’s voice was somewhat endearing, actually. At least one of them was getting something out of the stupid training. “Harness the heat from the fire,” Hop instructed. “And apply it to the pan.”

Rasp slipped the knife into his pocket and lifted his free hand in the direction of Hop’s voice and, consequently, the lantern. With one half of his concentration focused on the iron pan and the other on the flame, he melded them together within his mind. The dull red glow behind his eyes flickered before it turned a brilliant crimson.

“You did it!”

Rasp hesitated before asking. “And you’re sure it’s not on fire?”

“No, you transferred just the heat energy. Well done!”

Being praised was not something he was used to. Hop meant it in a genuine way, but that didn’t stop Rasp from having the sudden urge to crawl deep into a hole and roll in the dirt until the itchy feeling subsided. “Can I stop now? My palms are starting to burn.”

With the go-ahead from Hop, he snapped his magic back into his body and allowed the noise of his thoughts to refill the void. Many different voices shouted in his head at once. Most of them complained about the throbbing sensation coming from his cramping fingers. A few wanted a nap. Someone in the back protested that, despite the many, many promises of food, no one had yet delivered a corn cake into his mouth.

Wringing the last stings of pain from his fingers, Rasp asked. “So what’s the advantage of that?”

Short of heating the kettle when they were out of firewood, he didn’t see much of a point. That was probably his biggest gripe with magic. It seemed to require so much effort for a payoff that could have been secured by simpler means. Added steps with little practicality. All the magic users in the world seemed so consumed with the how, they never bothered with the why.

“It’s limitless, really.” Hop sounded like he was preparing to launch into one of his excited ravings where he produced lots of words and little sense, when he stopped and considered his audience. “Say you were to get cornered by soldiers.”

“Like that ever happens,” Rasp scoffed.

“You’re already at a disadvantage. One, you can’t see them and two, it would drain your magic to fight them all at once. If you were to apply the heat from fire to their swords, for instance, the metal would grow too hot to handle and they would be forced to drop their weapons. Suddenly, you’re no longer the one at a disadvantage.”

“Except for the archers.”

“Yes, Rasp. Except for the archers,” Hop agreed, adding, “Although I’ve heard you’re fairly decent at lighting bows on fire.”

“Oh. My. Gods.” Rasp’s jaw lowered as a burst of excitement worked its way up from his core. “That was a dig! Your first one, too. Undeniable proof that I am rubbing off on you!”

A pregnant pause followed as he waited for Hop to say something clever in return. Rasp waited, nearly ten painful seconds in total, before he was forced to concede the matter with a pitiful shake of his head. “I know you’re new to this, but that was your cue to give me shit back. I left a very open window of opportunity for you.”

“I noticed. No, thank you.”

“What? Suddenly don’t want to get firm with me?”

“I will give you two corn cakes to never bring that up again.”

As much as Rasp wanted the extra food, the perpetual need to have the last word won out as usual. “You drive a real hard bargain.”

“That’s it.” Hop stood. “I’m getting the book.”

“Why bother with that dusty old thing when you have me to check out?”