Storm Wolf: Tranquil waters - 6. Surprise

Surprise: Humility needs practice - usually by taking a beating.

"'Frost,' starting stance." I gave the command, and Luther assumed the corresponding stance.

Barely passable, but acceptable.

I tapped him lightly between the ears with the flat of my blade.

"Ow!" he yelped in protest, holding his head with a pained expression. "What was that for?"

"I should be asking you the same thing." I sighed and sidestepped, holding my sword single-handedly, leveling it at my chest. "'Rime Ice,' second stance."

He assumed the third stance, but I was too tired to correct him today. I swung my sword, tapping the end of the blade against Luther's fingers, knocking his sword to the ground.

"Ow!" he groaned, shaking his right hand and giving me a resentful look, his ears flattening against his head.

"Defend, Luther, defend!" I rubbed my temples, wondering if the problem was actually with me. "Why don't you move?"

"You told me to take the 'Rime Ice' second stance." Luther bent down to pick up his sword, his brown eyes filled with dejection.

Realizing what Luther meant, I was momentarily at a loss for words. I had forgotten that the mutt was only seventeen, unlike me, who had started practicing sword stances, footwork, and dueling techniques since the age of nine. What seemed natural to me might be an entirely different world of thinking for him.

I suddenly felt very sorry for Master Qana.

"The stances help you remember the most appropriate actions in certain situations, including body balance or offensive and defensive maneuvers. It's not just a fixed posture." I assumed the starting stance for 'Frost.' "'Starting stance' isn't the first step. It's more of a signal to your opponent that you're ready." I swung my blade, deflecting an imaginary strike, then transitioned into the 'Frost' second stance. "Each stance provides multiple options to respond to various situations, some leaning more towards offense..." I deflected another imaginary attack, rolled the blade to break the opponent's guard, and thrust the tip into a vital point. "...or defense." I stepped back, withdrew my sword, and raised it horizontally above my ear to intercept a hypothetical downward slash.

"So... uh," he scratched his head, seemingly trying hard to understand, "stances are like nodes, and the decisions you make in response to your opponent's actions are the strategic branches downstream, guiding you to the next node."

"Exactly." I stood straight and sheathed my sword.

"You should've said that earlier, now I get it." Luther replied with a smile. I was pretty sure I had explained it that way initially, but he didn't seem very bright. "Now that I'm ready, your element of surprise is gone!" His confident tone almost made me believe it.

"'Frost,' starting stance." I gave the command again, willing to give it a try.

I didn't even need to extend my consciousness to know what he was planning, just from the smug smile on his face.

I stepped to the right, sidestepping his thrust, then pushed off forcefully, closing the distance. When my fist struck his snout, that smug, foolish expression was still plastered on his face.

"Ow!" He fell to the ground, whimpering and holding his bleeding nose.

"What did I tell you?" I extended a hand, helping him up. "Feel the direction of the airflow, the shift in your center of gravity, and the vibration hidden in all living things."

"We're in 'space,' where's the airflow?" he grumbled, wiping his nose with his sleeve, only to have more blood drip onto the floor.

"That would be the recirculated air or something like that." I rolled my eyes, exasperated. If he put as much effort into other areas as he did into talking back, I was sure this mutt would quickly become an expert in some field. "Stop the bleeding yourself. I've taught you how."

I took his longsword, inspected it, and sheathed it, then placed both swords back in the wall-mounted cabinet.

Turning back, I saw him desperately trying to use his hands to stop the nosebleed that not only hadn't stopped but was flowing down like a spilled kettle - literally - flowing down.

"By the Rationalism!" Despite having seen much worse, this scene still caught me off guard. "Don't move!" I extended my consciousness, pulling the first aid kit from the wall, and rummaged through it for the scanner to make an initial diagnosis. "An artery? How did you manage to injure an artery?"

I didn't want to know the answer, so I ignored his nasal whimpering, knelt down, and let him rest on my lap. With the scanner helping me locate the injury, I found the biogel in the first aid kit.

Thankfully, the arterial damage was superficial and unlikely to be affected by the existence circle. I applied pressure to stop the bleeding, then coated the wound with the biogel. In about a minute, the gel had dried, and the job was done.

"I think I'll just demonstrate a few more times..." I sighed, retracting my consciousness and standing up, grabbing a handful of gauze from the first aid kit for him to wipe his face, then putting the kit back in place.

Luther got up, looking down at the floor with a dejected expression, his ears pinned back and tail hanging low. I was about to say something comforting, but the terminal on my arm vibrated twice, reminding me of the upcoming meeting.

I sighed again involuntarily, took a few steps towards him, and placed my hand on his arm, intending to give him some pet talk. But the door of the living quarters suddenly opened, and I quickly withdrew my hand.

"The maintenance team for the replacements..." The lead snow fox glanced at us, their expression freezing, while the other red foxes exchanged uneasy glances.

Glancing at the half-dried reddish-brown stain on the floor, the mutt covered in blood, and the bloodstains on my chest from treating his wound, I could only awkwardly clear my throat.

"Thanks for your help." I suppressed my panic and walked out of the living quarters with as much composure as I could muster, letting the sliding door close behind me.

On the way to the transport pod, a strange feeling blossomed in my chest. I placed my right hand over my heart, feeling its rapid, pounding rhythm.

Why was I so nervous? Nervous like a pup caught in the act, desperate to flee the scene.

The frantic heartbeat offered no answers. All I could do was sift through my memories, trying to understand what was happening to me.