Skill Learnings - Ketucari

Maura stands in the clearing, racking her brain for how to go about teaching and practicing the next major thing all Ketucari should know how to do well. As well as try to convince this tag-along to leave her alone by treating him like a cub. Ricket was leaning up against a tree, "resting his eyes some". She chuffs at the display of exertion he showed earlier. The light is fading, coming through the branches in warm golden rays. She tests the ground with a curious claw, and is delighted at how light and easily it moved. An idea took shape. 

"Ricket, get up!" she bellowed. 

With a barely concealed groan he stands up, wincing slightly as he puts more pressure on his claws. She watches him get up, and resists the urge to bark at him to hurry up. He takes a painfully long time to get up, making sure that every limb is thoroughly stretched before approaching her. His gaze is sleep-filled at first glance, but there's a glint in his eyes that shows he's more alert than he let on. Good, he does have some cunning in that spiked skull of his, she thinks approvingly.

"What's the next skill check?" he asks, eagerness poorly hidden.

She looked at the ground and back up, "using your environment to your advantage."

Scrrrrii-thunk

Maura swiped her claws deep into the ground kicking up a large cloud of dirt and debris right at his face. He snarled in surprise and started coughing. She leapt back out of his reach as the cloud of dirt settled. He shakes the dirt out of his face, blinking as it clears. A fire is lit behind his eyes as he gazes back at her, and it makes her heart trill in response. Maura grits her tusks, and throws her body sideways as he tries to tackle her directly. Beside her, he starts laughing of all things. She pins her ears back, and uses her hind legs during her leap to kick up an even larger cloud of dust, right in his face. His laughter turns to coughing, but doesn't stop entirely. The nerve.

She dances out of his wide attacks getting closer to the edges of the clearing. Then, too late, she notices that his wide attacks are controlled, and methodical. She spares a glance behind her, and see's that he's herding her towards a large bramble patch, as if she's a herdbeast! She snarls and leaps over his latest attack directly, landing behind him. Surprise and admiration are plain on his face as he whips around. Their movements are in tandem as the fling dirt at each other's faces. 

Maura doesn't close her eyes in time, the dirt and dust irritating her and working her up into a blind rage. Distantly she feels the building of dasrah within her, instinctively preparing to send it after the one who caused her such distress. As it starts to take shape within seconds, she snaps back to herself, and directs it at something other than the ketucari before.

Ka BOOOM.

Splinters of disintegrated wood and charred soil rains down on them both. She spares a glance back at Ricket, his gaze now having healthy dose of fear in it, and still too much admiration. She swallows her ego, and apologizes.

"I shouldn't have lost control like that, especially during a mock battle. I nearly maimed you," she says, with slivers of remorse coming through the prideful apology.

He shakes his ruff off and picks a rather large shard of wood from his horns while he answers, "I will accept your apology on one condition; let me journey with you."

Maura fights the snarl threatening to come out as she answers, "alright, but I won't provide for you. For anything requiring coin or resources, you will have to pay your way until you earn the right to call yourself my equal. If you are unable to continue with me through your own means, you're on your own."

Ricket nods gravely, which surprises her. She was expecting him to smile, laugh, or jump around and celebrate like a cub. Instead, he's treating it with all the solemnity of a seasoned ketucari. I misjudged him thoroughly, she admits to herself. Maura stands up, and Ricket follows her like a shadow. In the back of her mind, something is pleased at having a follower, someone to hone and look after like a favorite blade. Normally she'd recoil then squash any feelings like that into motes. This time, she let's it rest.