Afi approached the lonely brown horse. Giving it two of the apples they had bought, he gained an appreciative nudge from the animal. He refreshed the water and hay, and then turned his attention to Sylvia. She pushed off from the wall and came to him, with the wooden sword and buckler in hand.

Beginning with the sword, Afi had Sylvia identify the centre of balance. Sylvia placed the blade on her hand, nudging it back and forth. The exercise was complicated by the unevenness of the wood, but before long, she had the sword balanced on two fingers. Anything between her hand and the hilt, is the strong, and the rest is the weak, Afi explained.

“Some will separate it into three parts or give them fancy names, but the point is this; if someone hits your sword far down, you have more strength against them, while a strike against the tip offers you very little strength to use against your foe. Always keep this in mind. It is essential to both your defence and attack.”

Afi called her attention to the fact that the wooden sword was thicker on one side, which meant it had a cutting edge and a backside, which is less sharp and thus should face her. He showed her how to hold the weapon properly, making sure her index finger pressed firmly against the cross-guard. Holding her thumb over the cross felt wrong at first, but it was the same principle as handling a knife in the kitchen. A finger or two on the back of the edge offered far greater control over the blade.

“With this kind of sword, control is key. You use the shield to protect your hand, including your thumb. You cannot allow your sword hand to be damaged”, Afi explained.

Sylvia had been vaguely aware of the fact that a sword is heavy, but holding it herself, she began to understand just how heavy. At first, it felt almost light, but after half an hour, her arms threatened to give up on her. The tip of the sword began to sag toward the ground. Afi kept pushing her elbow back up, away from her body, so her hand was at shoulder height, but it hurt to hold it there for an extended period of time. And this was not even steel. By the time Afi showed her how to take a step forward, she was sweating profusely.

Sylvia cursed in the privacy of her own mind. There was so much to remember. The elbows away from the body. The hands at shoulder height. The angle of the wrists. Keeping her head up and eyes forward. Not walking, but sliding forward and backward. Which foot to start with, and which to land on. Knees bent. When Afi introduced the shield, Sylvia lost track. Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to sort her limbs out, and every joint stung in protest.

“That is enough for today”, Afi sighed.

Her arms dropping at once, Sylvia drew ragged breaths. She clenched her jaw in frustration. She could accept being too weak for lengthy training. It was no surprise. But why in the world would she struggle with the movement pattern? It made no sense! Learning a new skill was never this hard. When Klara showed her how to make honey knots, it took but a few minutes before Sylvia could copy the intricate design. She learned to ride when she was nine, by watching Ingemar and then sneaking into the stable at night to try it. Rebecca always showed her the formal dances Ari taught her, and was generally irritated when Sylvia did not struggle to keep up. What would make this any different?!

Sylvia closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, collecting herself. There was no use in getting angry about it. She was no fighter, and she had never aimed to be. “Why do I need to learn this, anyway?”, she asked.

“If you do not, you will get hurt”, Afi stated.

He realised that he had pushed Sylvia past her limit. He went back to the market to purchase a cooling salve to ease her discomfort. In the meantime, Sylvia washed the sweat and dust off. Refreshed and dry, she stood in the hallway of the big empty house. She eyed the stairwell for a long moment. Curiosity burned inside her. She tried to estimate how far it was to the market from here, and how long the Wolf had been gone. A quick peak could not hurt. She would be back downstairs before Afi returned. He would not even notice. On silent feet, she sneaked up the stairs.

The upper level had a small hallway and two doors. She opened the right one, finding a storage chamber. It contained an empty chest and a few pieces of armour. It was nothing fancy, mostly crude leather. Past the left door lay another bedroom. It was a lot larger than the one downstairs. On either side of the double bed stood a small table, and a thick carpet covered almost the entirety of the wooden floor. Along the wall stood two huge closets, and by the window was a small desk with a cushioned chair.

Stepping into the room, Sylvia enjoyed the sensation of the soft fluffy carpet against her bare feet. Walking over to the window, she peeked outside. She could see the yard from here. The brown horse was munching on some hay in a relaxed pace. It seemed more bored than hungry. Considering the view, she realised this was the window she had been looking up at last night, when she stood in the yard. She had not imagined the movement after all. Afi had been watching her. Uncomfortable, she shifted away from the window. Why had he not said anything? Why was he always so quiet? He never confronted Sylvia. What were his intentions? Why groom her, protect her? What did he want from her?

She let her gaze wander over the desk, the empty inkwell distinctly missing a quill, and the letter stand missing a letter opener. Instead of writing materials, a whetstone lay on the desk, along with Afi’s leather roll. Turning away, Sylvia spotted a slender red book on one of the bedside tables. Curious, she approached it, but before she had a chance to inspect it further, the front door opened.

Sylvia's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Looking around, she sought for a way out. Door? No. Window? She was on the second floor. There was little use in running. A hiding place then. Afi knew she was at home, though. He would no doubt find her, and hiding would only make things worse. Her mind raced, but she found no solution to her predicament before Afi stood in the doorway.

“Sorry! I was just…”, Sylvia began.

Afi did not appear to be angry. He stood tall, but his shoulders were relaxed. His eyes were wide and curious.

Sylvia let her shoulders fall as well, and met his gaze. “I was just curious to see what is up here.”

“My room”, Afi said, motioning around the bedroom with an open hand.

“Yea. I see”, Sylvia nodded awkwardly.

They stood quiet for a moment before Afi cleared his throat to chase some of the silence away. “I got the salve”, he said, holding up a small clay jar.

“Ah. Thank you.”

Walking into the room, Afi placed the jar down on the bedside table and removed the lid. “Undress”, he prompted.

Sylvia took a step back.

Taking a step back as well, Afi raised his hands, presenting his palms. He shook his head. “It will be much harder for you to do it yourself, especially now that your arms are hurting.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but merely closed it again and averted his gaze.

Sylvia nodded. Afi was right, and she knew it. She did not trust him, but to her own surprise she found that she wanted to. She wanted to feel the comforting warmth of his care again. She turned her back to Afi and undressed, freeing her upper body. Placing the tent of a tunic down on the bed, she held her arms out to her sides and waited.

Afi’s hands were cold and moist when they met her skin. Sylvia bit together, refusing to jerk or shudder. She let Afi spread the salve evenly over her arms, wrist to shoulder, and over her neck and upper back, where it was hard to reach. Afi massaged the mixture into her skin with firm efficient motions. It felt good. She could feel the ache dulling down as Afi worked. The salve left a cool, tingling sensation on her skin. Closing her eyes, she indulged.

When Afi stopped, Sylvia looked over her shoulder. He was scooping some more salve out of the little clay jar. “Turn around”, he instructed.

Sylvia could feel a shiver run up her spine. Before she even realised that she had moved, her arms were folded over her chest.

Afi let out a regretful sigh. “I am sorry.” He stared down at his feet, eyebrows furrowed. “I am so sorry for whatever…” He shut his mouth again and shook his head. Glancing at the scared woman standing before him, he tried, “I do not…I am not interested in you like that. Or in anyone, really. The salve needs to be massaged in properly or it will not help. If you really want to do it yourself, you can try, but…I promise, just want to help. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, Sylvia turned to face him and slowly relaxed her arms. She watched Afi’s eyes as they flicked down her body, assessing the state of her, before settling on her shoulders. He raised his hands slowly, placing them on her collarbones, and massaged the cool slave into her skin. He also worked over her arms one more time, making sure not a single muscle was left without a good kneading. Once he was done, he turned away and rubbed the rest of the salve over his hands, until they were more or less dry.

Redressing, Sylvia tightened her belt. She felt strangely warm now. Afi’s touch was lingering on her skin, but not the way she had feared it would. It felt soft and, dare she say, safe. The silence now hanging in the room was deafening, but it told Sylvia something very important. Afi spoke the truth. He was genuinely not interested in her body. He did not desire her. Another thing she realised in this heavy silence, was just how much it weighed Afi down. He was scared again. Sylvia's soul reached for him. She had an urge to comfort him. Looking around the room, she sought for something to say.

“I see you have a book.”

“Yea.”

When the silence stretched its wings again, Sylvia sought for something else to say, something to diffuse Afi’s discomfort, after he had helped her greatly ease her own.

“Where did you learn to read?”

Afi shook his head. “I cannot read. I like hearing stories, but I cannot make sense of the book”, he admitted.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”, Sylvia asked.

Afi’s face lit up. “You can read?!”

“Yea.”

“Yes. Read it!”, Afi requested.

Excitement shone in his eyes. Even towering over her, he reminded Sylvia of a child who had been given a new toy. She could not help but smile back at him.

“Please”, Afi added, in an effort to be polite.

Sylvia agreed and they settled down on the bed. Afi leaned back against the headboard and drew his feet up. Curled together, he did not seem very scary at all. He was no Wolf. He was just a man, like any other. Sitting down at the foot end of the bed, Sylvia crossed her legs, and opened the book. She let her eyes flicker over the first couple of sentences and then began to read aloud.