A Heart So Brave

Chapter 2

That night brave and his father huddled close to avoid the sharp cold of the night, the fire his father had made was slowly dying down. On the cliff up above, the griffons hut stood light flickering inside, a shadow was cast on the window and the light promptly extinguished. Snow slowly drifted down from the dark sky as brave looked at his mentor. His father looked tired, the bags under his eyes made him look older then normally, and the shadow cast from the fire didn’t help much either.  His elder sat quietly looking into the smoldering embers of the once roaring fire, face scowling, the lines under his eyes were sunken in a bit. His father said he was 35 last time brave asked, but he looked far older, ancient almost as far as the young colt could tell. Maybe that was just brave’s youth speaking, but brave did not think so. His father had always told him that for his age, he was smarter than most young colts, brave mostly attributed this to the way his father brought him up. Living out away from the major cities brave never officially went to school, but he was by no means a fool, his father had taught him to read write and to use his brain to solve problems as well as his brawn.

Brave wasn’t big yet but his father told him that he would be big and strong when he grew older, and brave believed him. He knew he wasn’t big so brave prided himself on being quick and nimble, always just beyond his father’s reach when they played. His father would chase him around the house trying to cut him off or block his path. They would play hide and seek, brave quickly learned how to find spots that were hard to reach or hard to see for the old stallion. By far though braves favorite game wasn’t actually a game, his father would bring out training swords and they would duel each other. He had no idea where his father learned to swordfight but where ever it was he was really good at it. Brave often imagined his father in shining armor rescuing a fair maiden from a snarling dragon, belching fire left and right only to be brought to justice by his dad.

“Pa?” brave says quietly, “where did you learn to fight… with a sword that is. You’ve trained me for the past year to fight and defend myself but never told me how you learned. I’ve always been curious but never bothered to ask, and well, when I saw your sword I had to know.”

His father took a deep breath thinking about what to say, “I learned while traveling with my old master, his name was Keen Eye a Pegasus, we travelled the world together for nearly twenty years.” He frowned at the fires embers, “The world is a violent place and I had to know how to protect not only myself but those I love. So he taught me to fight and not only fight well but smart, to fight using my brain instead of my brawn like I’ve been doing with you. He once said to me, ‘Stalwart you have to always expect the worst to happen, pray for the best to take place, but be prepared for both’.”

Brave thought about what his father had said for a moment, “Is that why you had the fish with you as well as your sword when you talked to the griffon?”

“Yes. I hoped the griffon would take the fish as payment, but I was fully expecting a fight and all that it would entail. Looking ahead for situations like these will keep you on your toes, you can’t be prepared for everything, but the more variables you eliminate the less will go wrong.”

Brave thought hard on what his father had said, “pa have you ever had to use your sword?” Brave looked up to where his father was but he was no longer there, instead he was within the tent laying down for bed. ‘I suppose that’s a question for another time.’ Brave thought to himself. He collected the rocks that were sitting near the fire, placing them on the ground then his mat over them to keep him warm at night. He pulled his blankets over himself and slowly drifted off to sleep, dreaming of his father slaying a fire breathing dragon.

The next morning brave awoke to find his father already awake; he poked his head out of the tent seeing his father already packing both their bags. He sat on his haunches and yawned stretching out the night’s stiffness. He then noticed a wooden bowl with oatmeal in it as well as an open canteen of water, he smiled and picked up the bowl proceeding to scarf down the food greedily. After he was finished he drank from the canteen, capped it and went to join his father in breaking down camp.

“Thanks for breakfast Pa.” his father grunted in response. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Yeah why don’t you roll your matt and blankets so we can break down the tent.” He responded.

Brave nodded curtly and proceeded to roll his makeshift bed. As he stepped out of the tent he saw something strange, his father standing in front of him wooden sword drawn staring down at him, his father then tossed a sword to brave. Silently he strapped the sword to his leg, eyes not leaving his father, he tested it, making sure the wooden blade extended and retracted smoothly. Then without warning his father attacked swinging at his head, brave ducked and launched off to the right avoiding his father’s reach, brave kept his blade retracted in order to move faster. He knew he couldn’t match his father in skill or strength so he had to fight with his speed, agility, and mind. He turned to retreat but as he started to run his hooves slipped on the snow layering the ground. He extended his sword and rolled onto his back just in time to block the sword coming down onto him, his father stood over him driving his weapon down towards him. Brave blocked and drove the sword into the soft snow, and then he reared back with his hooves and drove them into his father’s chest launching out from under him. He quickly got to his hooves and began running looking for some sort of advantage. He looked behind him and saw his father getting closer, brave also noticed something it was much more difficult for him to run in the snow then it was for his dad. Braves legs were thin and he was shorter it took more energy to run in the snow and he was getting winded.

‘If I keep running I won’t have enough energy to fight when he catches up to me,’ brave thought to himself ‘but if I stand and fight ill still lose I’m no match for him even on a good day. There isn’t really a way out of this situation.’ Brave skidded to a stop turned and swung were his father would be hoping to catch him off guard. No such luck, his opponent parried and then tucked his shoulder hitting brave launching him a few feet into the air were he landed with a thud. Winded brave stood shakily, anger boiled in him and he breathed steam out of his nose, glaring at his opponent they began to circle on of each other swords extended. Brave made the first move scooping up a hoof full of snow and throwing it at the larger pony, then swiftly closing the distance swinging at center mass, only to be parried and sent to the side. They circled again throwing prodding jabs at one another, until brave thought he saw an opening he lunged forward with his sword only to feel his sword pass by and hit nothing but air. He didn’t have time to disengage he felt his leg get pushed towards the ground and the all too familiar touch of wood on his next.

“You are dead kid, you got a either too eager or too frustrated. Both you need to work on keeping in check.” His father said

Brave sighed “I doubt I’ll ever beat you.”

The victor laughed “most likely.”