The Right Encouragement

Featuring Kipu, Clary, and Amadán

Spring, Y766 of the New Age

Oakfern, near Swan’s Beak

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

 

 

“I’m  trying, but it’s just not working!” The young doe’s voice was easy to  hear with its high pitch, laced with annoyance and anger. They’d been  trying for hours now to direct a small stream of water from the slow  flowing river in the tunnels, a task which was easy for Kipu, but seemed  near impossible for her fawn.

 

 

 

Kipu  had demonstrated over and over again for Clary, but it was clear she  was becoming frustrated too - Clary just didn’t seem to grasp the  delicate control of power needed to just divert a few drops of water  towards her. At most, the stream seemed to splash, before returning its  normal pathway, and not even Kipu’s attempt to bring the stream halfway  there seemed to help.

 

 

 

There  was something going wrong with the teaching, but no matter how hard  Kipu tried to explain, she struggled to translate the unique sensations  that came with magic, and she was far too inexperienced to try and teach  properly, especially when Kipu had taught herself through the years.

 

 

 

“Maybe  just try the ripples again?” Kipu suggested hopefully, knowing this was  something Clary could do at least. “But make them ripple against the  flow of the water.”

 

 

 

This  was going to be impossible, surely? Kipu didn’t have the guts to wander  into the warren and ask for help, not when she’d been outcast from  there for years. So what were they going to do?

 

 

 

Lost in frustration and concentration, neither Kipu or Clary heard footsteps behind them.

 

 

 

Amadán

 

            Amadán  strolled quietly through the tunnel, lit only by the dim glow of the  moss-laden walls, alone with his thoughts -- well, not quite alone.  Little Minerva perched on his shoulders in what seemed like full  contentment, and for once, the stag didn’t mind. His owl had stubbornly  decided to accompany him all the way to Swan’s Beak that morning; now  that they were on their way back, Minnie was tuckered out. He chuckled.  Not that she had been the one practicing all day.

 

             An echo from a nearby tunnel caught his ear. At first, the small stag  ignored it, but as another echo came through Minnie began to stir.  Amadán paused when she chirped in his ear.

 

    “What, y-you want me to go t-that way?” he said. “S-s-sounds like there’s somebody down there. I-I don’t want--”

 

    The little owl chirped again, this time louder. Amadán sighed.

 

             “Alr-r-right, alright,” he mumbled, turning towards the branching  tunnel opening. “B-but only because I l-like the stream. I’m n-not your  chauffeur.”

 

             The echoes became clear as he walked, and in few moments he spotted two  does by the stream, neither of which he could recognize by their paint.  He paused when he heard the older of the two speak again; it seemed  they were struggling with a magic lesson. It was with an odd mixture of  amusement and annoyance that he realised Minnie had pointed him in their  direction for that very reason. He ignored Minnie’s infuriatingly  satisfied look as he approached them; Amadán couldn’t turn away from a  chance to help, at least when it came to using water.

 

            “Ahh… e-excuse me,” he started, a little uncertain. “W-what might you b-be up to?”

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

 

 

The  sound of another voice had both does spinning around, the older of the  pair poised to run, whilst the younger stared at the newcommer as if  she’d never seen another before. In a way, Clary hadn’t. She’d never met  a stag before either, her eyes curiously dancing over the paint. It was  so interesting!

 

 

 

Kipu’s  body seemed to behave on its own, moving to stand in front of Clary  with defence clear in her features, her long tail snaking around the  body to settle over Clary’s back like she was hiding her daughter. Her  fear was understandable of course - the last time Kipu had properly  encountered a stag, she’d ended up with a daughter. In fact, she’d been  about to tell the intruder to leave them alone when her daughter spoke  up:

 

 

 

“Magic!”  Clary seemed to say those words with a concoction of awe and  frustration, for her mother could do magic, but she could barely do a  single thing of it herself. Her ability was dreadful, and she was almost  certain that she would never manage to perform it. But this stag before  her - he was so interesting! She’d never seen horns before, and the  younger doe cocked her pale head curiously, blinking at the male before  her. “Who are you?”

 

 

 

Kipu  was almost embarrassed by her lack of control over her daughter, how  she failed to rein in Clary’s curiosity and drag them away from the  strangers she so feared. Now Clary’s mouth was open, the girl would no  doubt tell the stranger everything, and she would be at risk of being  dragged back to the main caverns and probably put on a trial, to be seen  as an Oathbreaker for abandoning her herd. Oh, she had left her herd at  a young age, but Kipu knew the risks, and she knew her child could be  seen as a half breed too.

 

 

 

“Can you do magic?”

 

 

 

“Clary!”

 

 

 

Amadán

 

            It  wouldn’t have taken sharp eyes to see his presence wasn’t welcome. The  strange doe’s threatening motion made Amadán halt in a heartbeat,  deciding instead to keep his safe distance. He wondered by the  protective sweep of her tail if the does were kin; a defensive mother  would make for a much trickier scenario. He swallowed.

 

             The older doe seemed to look at him with such an intense suspicion,  even fear, that it took him aback. Amadán cursed himself inwardly... a  stutter and tremor put strangers off at the best of times, and the last  thing he wanted was to alarm somebody already on-edge. Yet the younger  doe ogled him like she’d never seen anything like him in her life -- not  apprehensive like her companion, but intrigued. The two very different  gazes burned into Amadán’s skin on both sides; suddenly he felt very  exposed.

 

             “...I-I’m Amadán,” he answered the grey, but kept his eyes on the other  doe as if addressing her instead. The grey was no fawn but she was  certainly being guarded like one, and he wasn’t dull enough to ignore  it. With what little composure he had, he dipped his head. “I do  m-magic, yes -- it’s my job, a-actually. I, uhm, t-t-teach the little  ones a-at the Moonpool,” he added cautiously, hoping it might lower the  bay’s guard.

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

            

 

Kipu  was thankful that the stag at least seemed to keep his distance from  them, her eyes narrowing just a little in a threat, a warning to keep  that distance. Even if Clary was curious about the stag, Kipu wasn’t  sure how close she wanted her daughter. His words seemed to spark  delight in Clary’s eyes though, the doe’s head lifting up and her legs  moving forwards so she was level with Kipu, forcing the older to move  her tail and protect her child once more.

 

 

 

“You  teach magic?” there was curiosity all over Clary’s features, the  younger doe casting a longing glance at the small stream she failed to  divert, no matter how hard she tried. Kipu knew what was coming seconds  before her daughter said it, and was too slow to catch it. “Can you  teach me? Mama’s trying, but she doesn’t know much either, so we’re just  making it up as we go.”

 

 

 

What  was Kipu supposed to do? She couldn’t tell Clary off in front of a  stranger, but it would be rude to tell this Amadán to leave, especially  with Clary brightly grinning at him as if she planned to prevent the  stag’s exit if he refused. Plus, Clary would most likely spend the  entire evening whining at her mother, angry that Kipu had turned down  the chance of magic.

 

 

 

Although Kipu was visibly on edge, she slowly lowered her tail, nodding once to the stag.

 

 

 

“If you don’t mind, she’s trying to say.”

 

 

 

Amadán

 

            It  wasn’t until the older doe spoke that Amadán could relax a bit. The  grey seemed to have an affinity for the water, a trait he valued --  those with a passion for magic were always willing to learn -- but he  wouldn’t accept any invitation unless the bay extended it herself. She  still looked rigid and untrusting, but her reluctant note was enough.

 

             “N-not at all,” he replied with a hint of relief. The stag nodded  towards the stream. “Uhm... W-what were you trying to d-d-do before?” he  asked, approaching the edge of the water. Feeling very aware of  himself, he still kept a fawnling’s length away; normally the fawns he  taught liked to sit close, intent on watching him with keen eyes, but  now it felt as though there was a bubble between them. Well, as long as  he could demonstrate his magic, he’d leave it to the older of the two to  decide their boundaries.

 

             Amadán did wonder, though, whether the bay was inexperienced herself or  simply lacked the skill to teach; magic was a complex concept to try to  explain, even from the more knowledgeable. He could sympathize with the  frustration that seemed to linger in the larger doe’s eyes.

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

 

 

“Mama  was trying to teach me how to move the water in the stream.” Clary  responded, choosing her own distances away from the stag and her nervous  mother. For a moment, her eyes flickered to Kipu, searching for  approval, and then she seemed to shake it off, turning to Amadán instead  and closing the distance so she was closer to him than to Kipu. “She  says it’s really easy, but it’s not.”

 

 

 

Letting  out a startled snort, Kipu glared at her daughter, easily picking up  the accusation in Clary’s tone. It was bordering on rude, although she  didn’t dare embarrass herself by telling Clary off in front of a  complete stranger, one who had offered to further Clary’s education  (even if she didn’t want it to happen). “I don’t know much of it; only  what I’ve taught myself.”

 

 

 

“She’s awful!”  the younger doe piped in, shaking her head and lowering her nose to the  gently bubbling stream, before blowing at it. “She can’t explain it  right - it took me the whole of spring to learn how to make the water  ripple, let alone do this!”

There was a level of tension  arising between the two does, one which was starting to threaten a fight  of some form. It was how most magic lessons recently had ended; with  Clary giving up and storming off, and Kipu rolling in her own waves of  frustration and anger. They needed help with this.

 

 

 

Amadán

 

             The stag felt the fur along his spine prickle with apprehension.  “N-n-now, magic is simply… a d-difficult thing to e-explain,” Amadán  offered, grasping for a way to diffuse the rising heat. Upstaging this  young doe’s mother was the last thing he was trying to do. “Every f-fawn  learns at a d-d-different pace,” he added, glancing towards Clary but  hoping both were listening, “b-but it’s important not t-to rush. The  most imp-p-portant lesson in magic is p-patience.”

 

             Though he tried to keep a cool demeanor, the pair’s touchy situation  was making his heart pound. Amadán tried to divert their attention back  to the stream. “Redirecting w-water flow, especially, t-takes time,” he  said, demonstrating the motion. By his feet, the gentle stream seemed to  change directions effortlessly. He kept his magic guiding it for a few  more moments before releasing it back to its natural path, then turned  and prompted Clary, “W-why don’t you sh-show me what you can do?”

 

             Minerva apparently decided that moment was the perfect one to remind  Amadán she was still on his shoulders. Having no way of understanding  the current dilemma, the owl made an ever-cheerful -- and ever-loud -- chirp of greeting to the strangers. What with the high tension, it nearly made the stag jump.

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

The  bird’s sound served to make both does jump too, Clary’s ears flickering  forwards with more curiosity than fear, whereas her mother wore the  opposite on her face, her entire body rigid with high tension. It took a  few moments for Kipu to calm enough to sigh, stepping to one side to  allow her daughter the area of stream to herself. Whilst simply  directing water flow was usually an easy task, her daughter was  struggling and Kipu needed help, she could admit that at least with her  suspicion.

 

 

 

The  younger doe had been following the flow of the water with the same awe  she stared at her mother’s magic, and quickly moved to the edge,  lowering her head as close to the water as she dared and closed her  eyes. In the past, she’d occasionally tipped forwards, not realising how  close her head was dropping before she would consequently find herself  snorting water into her nostrils. Certainly, breathing water was not her  forte either, no matter what she tried.

 

 

 

She  desperately tried to do what her mother had explained - feel the water  and gently tug at it, like she was holding it in her teeth. It was  supposed to feel the same, and yet different, to the sensation of  creating ripples in the water, something much akin to stroking it with  her hooves, yet not touching it at all.

 

 

 

Kipu  seemed to speak in riddles that made no sense when it came to magic,  and as a result, Clary was struggling to do what her mother had  requested.

 

 

 

Even with her body tight, eyes screwed shut, Clary could not move the water, and quickly gave up with a loud groan. “I’m awful!”

 

 

 

Amadán

 

             Pressing his lips shut for a moment, Amadán could feel the frustration  radiating off the young doe and the bitterness it left in the air. It  was enough to see the way Clary strained her senses in effort. He  considered how to approach; perhaps, she was like some he’d met before,  too expectant of the water to bend to their will.

 

             “...Wh-where does our magic c-come from?” Amadán asked finally. “Our  bond t-to the water was a g-g-gift from Gealach.”

 

    He  smiled at Clary then, as if asking her to humor him, knowing that most  of their herd knew such a thing from the time they were fawns. He  proceeded to close his eyes and face the water, deliberately repeating  his demonstration at a slower pace.

 

             “It i-is our relationship to the water, n-n-not the water itself, that  S-she gifted us. But we m-mustn’t demand power. We ask. It might be  h-hard to believe when it’s j-just a small stream, b-but… th-the water  is powerful. Tremendously powerful. For that, it d-demands tremendous  r-r-respect.”

 

    There  was little Amadán was confident about. For a number of reasons,  speaking was rarely one of them. When it came to magic, however, there  was never anything but certainty in his voice.

 

            “The water will n-not respect you,” he went on, “until you res-s-spect the water.”

 

    It was one of the few times the stag could smile and look sincere, actually warm,  instead of so painfully out-of-place. He wanted Clary to see the water  as a positive force, never something to bring her grief.

 

            “T-t-think of it as… not an o-object, or a skill, or e-e-even a feeling. Think of it a-as an ally.”

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

 

 

The  younger doe knew much of Gealach. Her mother spoke to her of the  teachings, occasionally sung of her too, but she had never had the  opportunity to speak about it before, to discuss it with a total  stranger. It was because of that she chose to keep her mouth closed, to  blink at Amadán innocently, head tilting ever so slightly.

 

 

 

She  held an air of frustration about her, watching how easily both her  mother and the stranger managed to manipulate the water, to morph it to  obey their very whims. She did not have that ability, and Clary was  starting to wonder if she ever would. After all, if she couldn’t use the  water, when would she ever be able to use the water, to coax it into  obeying her, like how her mother swam through underwater caverns to  reach mosses, or to explore, and she could not hold her breath long  enough to make the full journey.

 

 

 

“I  can’t do it.” she huffed, her tail swinging hard enough to splash  through the stream, letting out her anger on it somewhat. “How am I  supposed to respect something that has its own ideas? You and mama do it  so easily, you can change its flow with a thought, but I can’t, and I  can’t understand it!”

Only a few steps away, Kipu watched on in  silence, pursing her lips to prevent the comments she wanted to make.  It would only distress her daughter more if she spoke, and so long as  Amadán was comfortable managing Clary, she was comfortable watching,  assessing silently.

 

 

 

Amadán

 

             The splash of water made Minerva jump, and quickly the little owl  decided being near the water was not in her best interest. Amadán  however was observing closely. He watched the doe’s sleek tail disturb  and shake the water before it returned to its natural flow, overtaken by  the incoming current, continuing its path without her. As his eyes  flickered back to Clary, Amadán found he was still smiling patiently.  Her frustration was not nearly as vexing to him as it was to his owl.

 

             “If-f you are so c-certain you can’t,” said the stag, “then y-y-you  won’t.” It was not an insult, or even a warning, but instead sounded as  little more than casual statement as he shrugged with indifference.  “Understanding s-starts with s-s-struggle, and failure, n-not ease; but  it d-d-does end with it, sh-should you k-keep at it. E-e-expecting  yourself to b-be a natural” -- he cast a brief glance at Kipu, wondering  if it Clary’s exasperation was not entirely her own -- “will n-n-not  make you one. The w-water will flow on, with or w-w-without you.

 

    “C-close  your eyes again, i-if you would. D-don’t fret over my gaze, nor your  m-m-mother’s; don’t t-think about what you w-want to do, or how  q-q-quickly you do it; focus o-only on the sound of the water, the  s-sound of your breathing, and the sound of your h-heart. Feel its  presence, as it f-flows of its own accord, before you t-t-try to change  it.”

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

 

 

Focus  on your heart. Focus on the water. Focus on your breathing. Things that  were so simple, and yet, so terribly difficult to do. There was too  much background noise, too much in the background. The paling doe wore a  heavy frown on her face, lips pursed in her desperate attempt to try  and block everything out from the world.

 

 

 

Her  mother was watching in her silent way, one ear pricked, the other  tilted backwards, listening to the rush of water, searching for any sign  of intruders. Her daughter’s frustration much mirrored Kipu’s own, her  anger at not being able to teach her daughter suitably, having to resort  to a complete stranger to pick up what Kipu had taught herself through  exploration, for the most part. However, Kipu was respectful of what her  daughter was being taught, and kept a soundless vigil, only watching.

 

 

 

It  took a few minutes for Clary to figure out what she was even starting  to attempt to do, her eyes closed, focused only on her breathing, how  slow she could get it to go. Eventually, an ear flickered, her attention  balancing between her breathing and the realisation she’d slown her  heart rate too, bringing it far lower than the quick, frustrated beating  it’d been moments earlier. She’d forgotten her rush, somehow drowned  out the sound of everything but the beating of her heart and her  breathing, and when Clary remembered what she was doing it for, she  found she could, almost, feel the water.

 

 

 

The  cold of the water startled her out of it, but her mother’s keen eyes  had not missed it, even if Clary had. She’d managed to divert the flow  of the water upwards, just a little, towards her nose, as if a rock had  disturbed the flow.

“Did I do anything?” the younger doe called, still shaking the water from her nose.

 

 

 

Amadán

 

    Amadán  stood patiently waiting as Clary followed his suggestions – though he  could see in her face that she did so with reluctance. He willed his owl  companion to stay quiet as silence surrounded them, and tried to keep  his gaze on the student at hand.

 

    It  had surprised him that Clary’s mother had not interjected, but he had  no doubt that she watched as intently as he did. Despite teaching before  restless parents before, Amadán felt a twinge of anxiety; the last  thing he wanted was for her patience to end. Clary was so close, he  could feel it –

 

    He could feel it.

 

    The  realization snapped his attention back: there was a change in the force  of the water. It was nothing he could see, yet; Clary still stood  before an undisturbed stream. But there was something new, faint and  curious, that he could sense reaching the water. The doe’s face no  longer looked so distracted and doubtful, but rather focused and  relaxed, as if removed from reality.

 

    At last he saw the water shift, brief yet enough to break her from her state.

 

    “Yes!” he said, brightening with the same enthusiasm as if Clary had created a tidal wave. “Yes, th-th-that was excellent!”

 

    He  looked from Clary to her mother with shining eyes, hoping she had seen  it too. It may not have been big, but it was only a start; the young doe  had found the place within where she could connect to the water, a  vital step that would guide her as she continued her journey.

 

    “You  have magic in you – p-p-powerful magic,” the stag told her honestly,  eyes still gleaming, “and I can see how b-badly you want to r-r-reach  it. Only when you g-g-give yourself time, though, will y-you be able to.  Just like you d-did here t-t-today.”

 

 

 

Kipu & Clary

 

            

 

His  bright response immediately made Clary grin too, her ears pricking up  in total delight. Had she really done it? Had she managed to move the  water, like her mother and he seemed to do so easily? Excitement  overcame Clary, her thin little legs bouncing up and down as she hopped  about with excitement, even turning to grin at her mother. “I actually  did it!” she squealed, eventually coming to a standstill and gasping  slightly, her rush of adrenaline catching up on her.

 

 

 

Kipu  nodded too, unable to hide the smile on her own face whilst Amadán  continued to speak, encouraging her daughter to continue practice. She  stepped over to the water this time, moving closer to the stag she’d so  firmly kept her distance from the whole time, lowering her own head to  the water and forming a small ripple, much like Clary’s, which became a  bubble, lifting from the water slowly.

“This comes with time,  and practice.” she spoke, eyes flickering briefly over to Amadán. “Time,  and a good teacher. One who’s patient enough, yet encourages you to  succeed.” 

 

 

 

She  was complimenting him, a clear thanks in her words. He had done much  for Clary, had encouraged the younger doe to finally push past a mental  block, and Kipu was grateful for it. Clary was too, unable to contain  her grin as she watched her mother’s work, before turning to Amadán.

 

 

 

“Will you teach me again someday?”

 

 

 

Amadán

 

             All the commotion had riled up Minerva as well, who chirped and bounced  in celebration of something she didn’t remotely understand. She watched  the doe’s bubble with round eyes; meanwhile Amadán’s met with the dark  doe’s, if only for a moment, and he felt a warmth in seeing she was glad  of his help after all.

 

    He  chuckled at Clary’s eagerness, happier still that she was so ready as  ever to learn -- grateful, too, for her mother’s kind words. Quite the  spirit Clary had; he hoped Gealach might look on her vigor with approval  and help her rightly along. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’m s-s-sure we  will c-cross paths again soon.”

 

             At the whisper of a tired mind, Amadán recalled his venture from  earlier in the day. It was high time he return to his path, he decided.  With a final farewell to the two does, made sure Minerva had a fair grip  on his shoulders, and turned back the way he’d come.

 

            “I-i-in the meantime,” he added over his shoulder, “do as your your m-mother says: practice!”