Muette: The Start to the Journey

When Muette was a child, she witnessed a dark elven child being horribly mauled by a young kodiak. She had no weapon, training or profession at that point, but still Muette launched into the fray, punching and kicking for all her young body was worth. She gave a very good accounting of herself, but still, she was too untrained, and the kodiak had the benefit of bulk and natural weaponry.

All would have been lost if not for an elder monk who had heard the ruckus. After he had killed the bear and bandaged their wounds, he turned to young Muette, his voice taking on a censurious tone.

"Young one, what you did should have gotten you killed ... and for the sake of a dark elf spawn, no less! Have you never heard of running?"

She refused to be cowed by his formidable stare. "Much better that I die than another, respected elder. Regardless of race, he deserves better than to be dinner for a bear! I had been hoping to distract it enough that he could run. Barring that, I'd hoped to goad it and lead it back to the guards."

His stare softened a bit at her words, as well as by the stubborn look in her eyes. This was no foolish youngling as he had first thought. She fully realized the danger in her actions, but had made a conscious choice to risk her own life to save another. Additionally, for an untrained youngling, she seemed to have a natural speed and reflexes that would be the envy of many a belted monk.

It had been long since he had taken a student. Long since he had found any that measured up to his exacting standards ...

Young Muette stood still under that stare as long as she cared to. When his look became introspective, she moved to check on the wounded boy's bandages. Then, not realizing that his gaze had returned to her, she stood and tried to move her hands to exacute a strike she had seen him use on the wounded bear.

"I stand corrected, lass. It was a brave thing you did, though your body is not yet as strong as your heart is large."

She whirled to face him, her chin coming up stubbornly. "Then I must make it stronger, sir monk."

His gaze measured her once more. "If ye do not remember to grab a weapon before your next such fray, ye may not have a body left to strengthen."

"But, if I turn my body into a weapon, sir, I shall never want for one when someone is in need of aid."

By Quellious, was that a challenge he saw in the wee snippet's eyes? She definitely had spunk! "Who be your parents, lass?"

"I am an orphan, a ward of the city of Freeport." Her chin came up another notch, as if she expected pity ... or scorn.

"I see. So none who would grieve if ye left, and mayhaps some who would rejoice in one less mouth to feed?" He chose a tone sure to prick a child's pride ... he had to be sure of her.

She flushed at his words, but her tone was respectful, if a bit strained. "Just so, sir. You have the right of it."

"Then, lass, how would you like to learn the proper way to perform that eagle strike, and many other things as well?"

The soul-deep joy in her eyes was answer enough.

By the time her teacher passed from this world, and into the world of the spirits, she had learned many things indeed ... but that is a tale for another time.