With a thundering crash, Sofia found herself thrown to the ground. She lay supine for a moment, attempting to catch her breath. 

A hand appeared in the corner of her vision. Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Sofia was unsure she really wanted to vacate her resting place but reluctantly accepted the hand. The beautiful, dark skinned elf with whom she had been sparring pulled her quickly to her feet, making Sofia dizzy.

Sofia’s sparring partner supported her, and then gave her a wide grin. Her honey eyes glinted as she asked, “Ready to go again?”

“Priftoi,” Sofia was still fighting to catch her breath, “couldn’t we start with something a little… easier? It’s only my first day out of the recovery tent.”

Priftoi laughed and flipped her high, light pink braided ponytail. “Captain Erae has asked me to help prepare you to defend yourself against the Ymplerim. They won’t go easy on you,” she stood across from Sofia in a fighting stance, “so neither will I.”

Sofia, who had never taken any sort of martial arts or self defense class in her life, flailed about as Priftoi lunged at her with punches and kicks. She desperately tried to recall moves from some of her favorite action films. How does Uncle Jackie make this look so easy?? she thought as she attempted to recall and imitate some of the actor’s best known moves.

Soon she was on the ground again, this time refusing to accept Priftoi’s hand of assistance.

“I just… need… a moment.” Sofia couldn’t remember ever having exerted herself like this before. Her body was sore and aching, and her will to continue was severely lacking.

Priftoi plopped down next to Sofia, “You’ve never sparred before, have you?”

Somehow Sofia found the energy in her to give a short, pained laugh. “I think the most I’ve ever exercised is getting to and from my car.”

“What is a car?”

Sofia turned her head to look at Priftoi in surprise. “You don’t know what a car is?”

Priftoi shook her head, but with a bright and excited smile. “I am only 17 years old. Once I complete the rites of being a warrior next year, I’ll be allowed to visit Talamh and see how my talents can assist in the guarding of Creation.”

The young elf’s brightness dimmed suddenly. “That is, unless all the gates are sealed before I become a full warrior.” The Chief’s plan had obviously been making its way around the camp.

Sofia watched Priftoi’s face for a moment. “When did you start training?”

Priftoi’s brightness returned. When I was 10! I was an early recruit,” she chuckled self-consciously. “Most elven young people don’t begin pursuing a trade until they are 12 or 13 years old. But I knew exactly what I wanted to do!”

Sofia was shocked. “Children in Lyfay start trades at 13 years old? That seems so young!”

“Perhaps,” Priftoi looked up in thought. “I believe the stationary peoples may have their children begin trades closer to my age. Which seems so late to me!” The young elf laughed heartily at this. “But we nomadic peoples have to all rely on one another to support our mission, so it makes sense that we begin earlier.”

Before Sofia could ask anymore questions, Priftoi hopped back on her feet and reached out her hand. “Enough resting! Let’s get back to it. I’ll promise to go a little easier on you this time.”

With a wink, she added, “Let’s start by teaching you how to throw a proper punch.”

After a while, Harton came by to announce it was time for lunch. Sofia nearly cried in relief.

“I’m so hungryyyyyyy…” she whined. “And everything hurts.”

Harton glanced at Priftoi, who responded with her characteristic wide grin. “Just following orders! Don’t worry, Dlam, we’ll toughen her up in no time.”

“I’m sure you will,” he responded with a smile. He turned to Sofia, who had returned to the ground to pout, and nudged her with his nose. 

“Come on, a meal will help you regain your strength for this afternoon.”

“There’s more??” Sofia looked up with teary, puppy eyes, overtly asking for pity. 

The Dlam simply nudged her again. With his help, Sofia begrudgingly rose to her feet, and together with Priftoi heading towards the cooking circle.  

At the circle, the group found Itah, Faliona, Melião, and Lyna already eating. Lyna, noticing Priftoi waving enthusiastically at them, quickly rose and left. 

“Where is she off to in such a hurry?” Priftoi asked once they got closer. 

Faliona exchanged a glance with Melião. “She… went to prepare for this afternoon’s training sessions.”

“I heard you are exempt from training for a while, Friend Priftoi,” Itah piped up, “to help train Friend Sofia.”

Priftoi beemed. “Even though we are starting from the basics, I have faith that she will be warrior ready soon!” The group of women and animals responded with a sound of satisfaction. 

After getting her food, Sofia sat down painfully next to Itah. I thought Erae would have been training me… Sigh, I guess I’ll have to put up with Ms. Peppy. 

A sudden pain in her gut caught Sofia by surprise. Oh no…

Noticing her discomfort, Itah suggested she could provide some ointments to help with the soreness later in the evening. Gratefully, Sofia accepted. 

“Do you happen to have anything for…” Sofia whispered, holding her hand to her abdomen.

Itah understood and discreetly nodded. “I will get everything you need.”

“Melião is quite the expert masseuse,” Faliona suddenly chimed in. The Vrao looked at her in surprise. “We could come visit you at the end of the day as well to help you relax.”

“That would be really nice,” Sofia looked at the Keeper of Stories gratefully. “Thank you.” 

Suddenly, Sofia turned again to Itah. “Itah, when did you start your apprenticeship?”

“Oh,” the young elf was caught off guard by the personal question. “I-I began when most of our young people start pursuing a trade. I was 13 years old when I started studying under the Master Healer.”

“Itah and I are the same age!” Priftoi announced. Itah blushed, unused to this much attention. “We’ve been friends since we were babies!” Sofia smiled at the idea of the two young ladies before her as toddlers. So cute.

“I also started pursuing my trade at 13 years,” said Faliona. “Although, since my grandmother was our previous Keeper of Stories, I felt the calling much earlier.” She scooped up Melião to give him a tight squeeze. “I met my dear chompánach a few years later.”

Remembering their previous conversation, Sofia asked, “How did you two meet?”

Breaking free from Faliona’s grasp, the Vrao gave himself a quick shake and smoothed out his fur before responding. 

“I was born in the forest. I was aware of the elves; all us creatures are. They help protect us, sometimes provide for us. But I never cared to connect with them until one day I felt something was… missing. I wandered near the village and saw Faliona weaving a tapestry. The missing piece was found and… I never left.”

Teary eyed, Faliona scooped up the Vrao again and buried her face into his fur. This time he conceded and even emitted a soft purr.

“Do you girls have a chompánach?” Sofia asked. Both young ladies shook their heads.

“It is seen as essential to have a chompánach,” said Itah, echoing what Faliona had previously told Sofia, “because of what we learn of love and service. But sometimes it takes a while to find them.”

“For example,” Priftoi added, “Lyna doesn’t have any animal companion yet, and she has passed 30!”

“Priftoi!” Faliona chided. “You know this is a sensitive matter!”

“I am only saying that it sometimes takes a while to find one's chompánach!” Priftoi shrugged. “I just hope I will find mine before I get the chance to visit Talamh. Speaking of which, didn’t you meet on Talamh?” She directed the question to Sofia and Harton. “I haven’t heard the story yet! How blessed you are, Friend Sofia, to have the Dlam as a chompánach!”

What does that mean? Sofia wondered.

“The story will have to wait for another time,” Harton interrupted. “It’s time for the afternoon training session.”

“All right, let’s go!” Priftoi jumped from her seat in excitement. 

Sofia groaned and slumped onto Harton. “I hate you so much right now.” 

“But you will thank me later,” the Dlam chuckled.

“Ugh, all right,” she groaned, slowly rising to follow Priftoi. “Let’s go.”