Vrakhu led the twins into the clearing before the Tree of purple leaves.
Corvin had Corin’s arm thrown across his shoulders and his arm around her waist, as if to support her and help her walk.
But it was all for show.
Corin’s feet weren’t touching the ground and hadn’t since they left the field.
She weighed less than the stone he trained with. So why wouldn’t he just carry her and save them both the trouble?
Corin's face was twisted by irritation.
She shoved against his face and chest to make space between them.
Yet his strength was too great, and her leverage too frail.
No matter how hard or where she pushed, Corvin wouldn’t budge.
Pushing against him felt like trying to push over a healthy tree.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop her trying.
One hand on his forehead, one hand on his neck. She pushed and pushed until she was red in the face.
Corvin laughed at her attempts. “Just relax and wait until I put you down. We’re almost there, see?”
Corin ignored him and continued to push.
She hated being carried.
He knew she hated it, yet he did it anyway.
She stopped struggling all at once, her body going still as stone in an instant…
A twisted grin appeared on her face.
They were in the clearing, not in the middle of nowhere.
They had plenty of room here.
Corvin glanced at Corin’s face to bask in her annoyance.
But instead of annoyance, the expression he saw set off every danger alarm in his head.
In his exhausted state, one crucial thing had slipped his mind.
Corin could be a vicious little mouse when she wanted to be.
And the look she was wearing right now said she really, really wanted to be.
Now Corvin was torn on what to do.
Should he carry his sister the rest of the way to the hollow and sit her down so she could rest… or drop her now and make space between them?
It was self-preservation that won in the end.
He loosened his grip on her waist and quickly jumped aside.
She dropped to her knees but was moving right after.
Pushing off the ground with anger-fueled muscles; Corin ran on all fours at her brother.
The corners of Corvin’s mouth dropped in fear and he made a run for it.
Corin was faster.
He knew from experience that he could outrun an angry boar if he tried.
But she could run with the beasts.
In three steps she’d caught up with him; he could feel her hands on his shirt and her feet pushing against the back of his knees.
Corvin reached back, grabbed her arms, and threw her over his head without looking,
Corin twisted in the air and landed in a crouch atop a barrier root.
She bared her teeth and stalked closer without leaving the branch.
Corvin took a step back without breaking eye contact.
She’d attack the second he looked away.
His head turned slightly to the side, while his eyes stayed firmly in place.
“Master… Help!”
Vrakhu sat beside the fire, his face blank, the cracked stone bowl cupped between his hands.
He inhaled the steam rising from his bowl and closed his eyes.
“Lunch and Sparring were next. Which comes first, I do not care.”
Corvin pointed at the old man and nervously smiled at Corin, “Lunch! See? You’re hungry too, right…?”
Corin’s head turned to one side and her snarl slowly shifted to a gentle smile.
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Corvin swallowed and took yet another step back.
He should have felt relieved about seeing her smile.
But he didn’t.
Her body was still tense; her hands still primed to attack.
Her smile meant nothing but trouble.
Corvin took a moment to calm himself, and Corin obliged.
She stood atop the barrier root without effort or conscious thought.
Balance was second nature to her now.
Corvin took a step back, she took a step forward.
He stepped to the side; she reoriented her body to follow him.
“Okay…” His laugh was shaken by nerves. “Guess we’re fighting then.”
He looked his sister up and down.
No sign of her earlier weakness remained.
Good.
It’d be annoying if she used that as an excuse later.
“Okay, you rabid Mouse. You wanted this; come get it.” He took two large steps forward and swung for her legs.
Corin jumped the attack; she placed a single hand on his head and flipped over him just as she’d done the barrier root earlier that day.
Corvin heard her feet hit the ground, then — Wham! — her fist was buried in his side.
He could hear his ribs creak from the blow but lacked the time to dwell on it.
He spun and blindly swung with a back hand.
Corin ducked the blow and followed it up with three body shots to his stomach.
Her punches were quick, yet surprisingly heavy for someone whose weight didn’t even make it to three digits.
Corvin pushed forward and attempted two grabs in a row.
Both failed to make contact, but his momentum kept her on the back foot.
He chased her around the clearing like a cat hunting the mouse.
Why then, was he the one getting injured?
She dodged his every blow; countered his attempts to grab. Every clash ended with him getting punched somewhere and her slipping through his fingers.
All he needed was one chance.
If he could grab her; pin her down.
Victory would be his.
— Wham! —
Corvin simultaneously felt his strength falter and saw the dirt rushing up to meet him.
He landed on his knees first, then he fell forward and his face hit the dirt.
What happened?
He’d tried to grab her hair… Then nothing?
How?
What did he miss?
He groaned and pushed himself into a seated position.
He opened his mouth to speak, and his jaw made a strange clicking sound.
“Did you,” He grabbed his jaw and squeezed until it — Pop! — snapped back into place.
He tested the motion a few more times while Corin looked on in amusement.
“Did you seriously just crack my jaw?”
Corin shrugged while backing away. “You should’ve blocked.”
They’d both pulled the ‘please help me up,’ trick before.
Now, neither twin would aid the other until the old man said enough.
Both twins looked his way at the same moment.
They found him with a handmade mortar and pestle in hand, slowly grinding dark colored plants into paste.
“Again.” Vrakhu’s emotionless voice carried over the fire.
“Figures.” They thought, not realizing they were once again in sync.
Vrakhu never seemed to care; no matter who won or what method they used to do it.
Aside from that first day of training, Vrakhu never allowed them to stop with a single bout.
You fought until your limbs refused to obey or you lost consciousness.
And fight they did.
Corin’s quick hits and distance control allowed her to steal ten wins over Corvin’s five.
They both knew each other well enough to predict what they’d do.
However, the key to victory was Corvin’s grabs.
If he could get a single hand on her; Corvin won one hundred percent of the time.
But if she managed to keep away from him, then the odds shifted in her favor.
Corvin hated it, but Corin was undoubtedly the better fighter between them.
She flowed around him like water, constantly slipping through his fingers and leaving him with a cold feeling.
Corin thought differently.
Her breathing was heavier than before.
Her legs were trembling, and her fists were numb.
Every time they sparred, she was reminded of just how strong her brother was.
Punching him felt like punching the ground.
She dodged every blow like it could take her head off — Because it probably could.
And she feared his grabs more than anything.
His hands were solid shackles that offered no hope of escape.
He could, and has, lifted her off her feet with a single hand.
She could barely match him now… But she didn’t think that would last long.
What happens when her punches stopped affecting him entirely?
What happens if he thinks she’s not worth the effort to spar?
No.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
She would get faster; she’d learn to hit harder.
She was nobody’s burden.
Vrakhu diverted his focus from the ointment in the bowl, to the twins.
The two could be so similar it was almost amusing.
It was only by looking into their cultivation that a divergence emerged.
They know of the divergence, but don’t understand it.
They were lying side by side, on their backs; Corin’s right foot and Corvin’s left foot were touching.
Their chests rose and fell simultaneously, their breathing equally haggard.
Though they both remained conscious until the end. Neither chose to break the silence that’d fallen over their home.
Vrakhu glanced at the bowl in his lap and returned to making the ointment.
They’d need something for the bruises before they went to sleep.
“If you’re done fighting; start eating.”
The twins' simultaneous sighs echoed through the clearing.
“Yes, Master/Old man.”
