“You want me to do what?”
“Push the boulder,” Lira repeated flatly, arms crossed. “Up the hill. To that tree stump.”
Khal stared at the gray, lichen-covered rock in front of him. It was roughly his size. Maybe heavier. Probably made of disappointment and regret.
“Is this a metaphor?”
Lira didn’t blink. “It’s a warm-up.”
“…Oh.”
The training field wasn’t much of a field. More like a slightly flat patch of grass behind the orchard where trees gave just enough shade to hide from judgmental birds.
Lira had shown up this morning with a stick, a basket of bread, and far too much energy for someone who smiled maybe once a week.
The fox lay nearby, belly up, tongue flopped to one side. Utterly useless.
“I’m not strong,” Khal said again, just in case she forgot.
“Then get stronger,” she replied, biting into her bread.
He placed his hands on the boulder.
Took a deep breath.
And pushed.
Nothing.
He tried again.
The boulder made a noise — a kind of smug crunch — and stayed put.
“I think it’s mocking me,” Khal muttered.
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“It’s a rock.”
“Then it’s a very judgmental rock.”
Thirty minutes later, Khal was panting, face red, arms shaking.
He had successfully moved the boulder… seven inches.
Then tripped over a root and fell face-first into moss.
The fox barked. It sounded like a laugh.
Khal groaned into the ground. “Even the fox is judging me.”
“Good,” Lira said. “Means he’s learning standards.”
Khal made a muffled noise of betrayal.
But eventually — somehow — the boulder rolled.
Not all the way. Not gracefully. But enough to scrape past the halfway mark before it got stuck in a rut and refused to move further.
Khal flopped beside it like a defeated noodle.
“…I did it.”
“You didn’t.”
“I mostly did it.”
“You fell four times.”
“And got up four times,” he replied, pointing a triumphant finger skyward.
Lira gave him a slow nod. “Fair enough.”
She handed him a waterskin.
Then pointed behind him.
“Bees.”
“…Sorry?”
“Your real challenge today,” she said, as if this was obvious, “is not getting stung while harvesting honey from that fallen log.”
Khal turned slowly.
There, not ten paces away, was a log — cracked open — and absolutely buzzing with a small, angry swarm of local forest bees.
“I changed my mind,” he said. “I’m happy being emotionally strong.”
But Lira had already tossed him a pair of gloves and a thin veil.
“Use smoke. Be calm. Be gentle. Don’t scream.”
“What if I scream calmly?”
She smirked.
“Then I’ll respect your creativity.”
Thirty minutes later…
Khal stood covered in soot, multiple bee stings, and what could generously be described as a partial success.
He held the honeycomb up like a prize. “Got it.”
The fox sniffed it. Then licked Khal’s singed glove.
“Why are you proud?” Khal muttered.
That night, Khal rubbed salve on his arms and stared at the bruises forming from the boulder.
Lira sat nearby, sharpening a stick that might be a weapon or just a very dangerous toothbrush.
“You didn’t run today,” she said.
“No.”
“You cursed less.”
“I channeled my rage into the boulder.”
“You fell a lot.”
“…That’s tradition now.”
She gave the faintest ghost of a smile.
Khal leaned back, sore and tired.
But underneath the pain, a quiet fire burned.
He had failed. Sweated. Looked stupid.
And yet — he hadn’t quit.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Trait Enhanced – “Quiet Resolve” → “Stubborn Spark” unlocked]
[Heart of Becoming – Physical Threshold Achieved: Endurance (Minor)]
[Fox Relationship Status: Improved – “Companion” → “Lazy Morale Officer”]
[Pain Resistance +1 | Bee Diplomacy -3]