Two Eyes Cenote he will never eat

in the humidity of the early morning, so thick it felt like stark was attempting to breathe in water, he pauses in patrol more often than he would normally; seeking brief respites beneath the shade offered by the cenotes — chasing the shadows like a great mighty beast on the hunt.

he drinks often, fearing dehydration in the grit of red sand that always coats his tongue now.

but muat-riya is his home, and that it feels as such ( despite not knowing nor socializing with many ) fills stark with a warming sense of purpose.

Pretty sea eyes fell upon the early morning light. The Air was heavier than even she had realized it could be, until she stepped out into the light. She left her family behind and began to track the numerous Mazoi as they went about their ways. She didn't want to serve as her sister and mother did. The way they had to simper and beg. That was not something she found delight in. And oh there was power there if used correctly, even as a youngling she could see this. But it was not the type of power she so wished for herself.

She was thrown from her endless musings and wanderings to the large body of another Mazoi. She watched him quietly not saying anything. Not even sure if he saw her. She simply wanted to watch and learn and listen as she always did.

caught in a quiet moment of respite, eyes closed as he soaks up the slightly cooler air the shade provides, it takes him a longer moment to realize that he is not alone.

eyes open and a bit of searching ( for she blends rather well into their surroundings ) until his gaze lands upon her. a girl, young; watching him.

stark rises to his feet, letting out a low chuff of greeting.

Safiya stared boldly back as the wolf moved and stood. He gave her a small chuff and she dipped her head to him in greeting. Stepping a little closer. Their sizes were insurmountable, but there was a fierceness in her gaze when she looked up.

Hello I'm Safiya.

She looked around and dipped her own muzzle down to take a drink and then lifted her head back up. 

You will teach me to spar?

There was a boldness in her question of a wolf that knew her own mind. Hoped that he would agree. Though she did remember her manners at the last minute and added. 

Please.

she is a child not yet full grown, smaller than the ironspine but her gaze is fierce as it holds his own. the part of stark that did not wish to be a soldier molded to the whims of his parents wants to shy away from the fierceness of her gaze. but not all wolves are made fighters: some are born that way and in some small semblance, he envies her for it.

i am stark, he offers in return.

her question is direct leaving no fillers, no small talk to be scrounged from the sands.

he admires it.

if that is what you wish. he agrees.

Safiya doesn't know if she was born to be a fighter, but what she did know. Even already at her young age was she could only serve in two ways given her parentage. She could simper and let strangers take liberties or she could fight and guard and keep her body, soul heart to herself. That was the more attractive option. Ahe had already seen to much as a Fellahin daughter. And perhaps she misunderstood. And yes there was power in the fellahin like her mother her sister. But it didn't appeal to her 

Hello Stark.

She nodded. It is. Thank you.

stark is not skilled at telling age, but he knows she is young. despite that, he could've been fooled if her body had caught up to her mind. she is terribly polite: far more polite than he or his siblings at that age. she minds her manners in a way that made stark feel like he was speaking to someone much older.

he cast a glimpse for her parents or siblings but none arrive.

he hesitates for a moment, wondering if he should be indulging in this. what if it was against her parents wishes?

show me what you already know. fighting was a core instinct, after all and he assumes that play dominance was a thing her and her siblings partook in.

Safiya was raised by a Fellahin. So she was naturally polite. Because it was how she was taught. They had to be this way. Her parents made sure they were this way. She was alone. her parents would not come. Nor would her siblings. Letting her travel to and fro on her own mostly. Baba and Mama both busy working at their own jobs. 

She nods. And readies her stance like her father had taught her. She eyes him. Noticing small movements and goes for a weaker side. Careful to stay away from his face and his claws. Heading towards places he could not catch her so easily. As she had done with her father, those many days ago.

she's smaller than him, quicker on her feet; and thus has an advantage. he is large, yes, but his size encumbers his movements. he is better for defense than offense: capable but not quick. not built to be an assassin by any stretch of the imagination.

for her first few attacks, stark is as still as a statue; observing. she knows to go for places he cannot easily reach her. good.

good, the ironspine encourages. now, lets run through a practice spar. for this, he had no intentions of staying statue still. he would begin to spar back with her.

HE stood still. Watched her attack. As her father had done at first. And then he gave the go ahead and shifted his position. 

Her stomach tightened in anticipation and the snap of her eyes glittered as she readied herself. There was no fear of what possible pain could come. Or the fear of the unknown. No. It was anticipation, delight, excitement. 

She bent to task and struck quickly. Aiming for his side, then his rear haunch, danced backwards and went for the other side. Always forward and backward she went. Attacking and then gliding backwards. Clumsily of course. She was still a child, but she for what she failed at in skill, she made up in fervor.

she is full of fire; coming forward and then falling back. feigning. but she, as per her age, is clumsy. her paws too big for her body, yet.

not quite sure how to train with a child, stark feigns a couple times to snap his teeth at her — always sure to pull back when he feared he was getting too close to actually bite.

good, he encourages. you are young and small but those things can and will work in your favor.

Safiya was trying her darndest to make sure she did what was tasked. She didn't know how well she was doing, but she was pleased none the less. She was doing her best. 

He feigns and snaps. Though he makes sure not to harm. She huffs a couple of times. How would she learn if he didn't try. Though she understood, her father had been gentle too and as such decided to forgive him for it. 

I don't think I'll get much bigger. She frowned as she stopped to look at her paws. Her siblings were all growing larger and broader. Except maybe Tiye and she wasn't. She was growing slow and dainty and it absolutely infuriated her. She wanted to be big and giant like this one.

if she is annoyed with him for not trying to actively spar with her, it is well placed but stark would refuse to do anything other than train. practice. he feared if he sparred with her in true, he would hurt her; and the mazoi does not wish to do that.

reservations would go out the window the moment he allowed himself to give over to the instinct of the fight.

but she is speaking then of size, expressing her frustration with her frown and words.

stark makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. you think this is a bad thing, he guesses. but it is not. if it is true, you will be underestimated because of your size and that is an advantage.

warfare wasn't always honorable. it wasn't always fair. stark was not above teaching her to use every angle she could to stack the odds in her favor and emerge the victor.

Safiya knew somewhere in her mind deeply that he was only doing what he should. He shouldn't press the envelope when a child was concerned. But she was still alittle frustrated with it. But she would grow to appreciate it someday. 

How is it an advantage? She wondered and looked up at him with blind trust and questioning gaze. She didn't know this wolf from Adam, but he was willing to help her and that was enough.

she is full of questions and stark, well not perhaps full of answers but able to offer her small nudges of guidance and perhaps advise. she cannot see yet how a small and unassuming stature would be an advantage in battle : her mind still young, still malleable. still learning.

stark is only soothed by the fact that, unlike him as a child, she appears to want the path of the warrior.

in a real fight there is no such thing as fair. it is important to know your own strengths and play to them. honor did not appear to have a home on a battlefield, even when it was between blood siblings. a shadow draws across his face but he shuts those thoughts away as swiftly as they come.

if you are small, lithe, graceful ... someone bigger, like me, will look at you and think you are an easy target because you are small. and it is important to let them. let them fill themselves with the confidence that they will win and their confidence will make them sloppy. easier to win against.

Perhaps we're she to know she could have something different she'd have done so. But she was born to a Mazoi and a Fellahen and even as young as she was. She knew what her options were. And she would rather take the one that would leave her perhaps in a bloody field with a chance. Not inside the walls with no hope in sight 

Safiya gave a sharp toothed amile. The lack of fear blazing to life in her eyes. Let them think so little of me.

She would show them all.

a grin tugs across stark's muzzle as he sees so clearly the fire in her soul, in her eyes once more. it is a toothy thing, born of pride and the camaraderie of one soldier to another.

just like that. he offers in encouragement.

stark continues to give her sparring pointers until she is called home and he to the gate for his patrol.