Derots can be found in almost any part of Ceraviehl, as they are known to quickly adapt to their environment. Belonging to the family of canines, their nose-to-tail length is approximately three feet. They have a long snout and four legs, each limb ending in three retractable claws. Hunting in packs, their lanky and agile bodies make them dangerous predators for many animals throughout Ceraviehl.

Excerpt from Bestiary of Ceraviehl, written by scholar Acadia Boucher

It had been three days since Silas agreed to be Tom’s apprentice, and he already regretted his decision.

Tom had not even started teaching him magic. “You need to learn the basics first,” he had said. And what was Silas doing now? Stabbing the air like an idiot. He held a spear in both hands, his whole body drenched with sweat.

‘Short trust, back. Long thrust, back,’ Silas repeated the mantra to himself. The two different thrusts didn’t differ that much from each other, Silas had learned. While the back hand stopped at the pelvis when doing a short thrust, it extended all the way to the armpit when doing a long thrust.

After every thrust, the spear reverted to the basic position. This meant holding the spear by the waist and keeping the tip at eye level to be able to block incoming strikes.

Earlier, when Tom had begun to teach him, Silas had sometimes made the mistake to lower the spearhead after thrusting. The result had been a non-so gentle pat on the head with Tom’s staff. Silas had quickly learned his lesson. Pain was a very unforgiving teacher.

Tom meanwhile stood off the side, leaning on his staff and watching Silas with a calm expression. The old man would sometimes strike at him without warning. “To test if you have learned your lesson,” Tom had explained to his new apprentice.

Silas knew he was lying. The old man simply liked hitting him. He could see it in the twinkling of Tom’s grey eyes every time he “tested him”.

Tom’s right hand holding the spear abruptly shot out, and he opened his mouth as if to say something. Silas tensed up, expecting another one of his tests. But the old man simply closed his eyes, yawning loudly.

Silas fumed inside. Tom even had the audacity to cock an eyebrow when Silas looked at him with obvious anger.

“You seem a bit worked up, is something the matter?” Tom asked him with a neutral expression.

“No, master,” Silas huffed.

That was another thing. The first thing Tom had told Silas was to address him as “master” or “master Tometheor”. Perplexed, Silas had asked him if that was necessary since Silas could just call him Tom.

“No,” Tom had said.

“Why not?” Silas had inquired.

“Wouldn’t you like to be called master as well?” had been his answer.

Silas hadn’t known what to respond to that.

At least the food was good. Tom still cooked daily, although he expected Silas to be able to do the same if necessary.

“Do another thirty thrusts, I’ll prepare lunch. And don’t think you can trick me, I have eyes on my back you know,” Tom stated.

“Yes, master,” Silas replied obediently.

A few days ago, Silas would have had laughed at that.

Now he knew it to be true. Yesterday he had been practicing while Tom had cooked supper. Seeing how the old man had his back turned, Silas had tried to skip a dozen thrusts. Tom, without turning around, had then told Silas how many he actually had done.

“Since you obviously need to practice counting as well, start from zero again, why don’t you?” Tom had told him.

Silas wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He focused on his breathing as he completed the exercise. ‘Thrust, breathe out. Pull back, breathe in.’ Tom had already gone inside the cabin, preparing lunch on the little stove. They chose to eat outside, sitting on the grass with wooden plates in their laps.

Tom had made rabbit liver with a mix of vegetables, putting thin slices of apple on top of the fried liver. Caramelized sugar sat on top of the fried apple, giving it a glistening, brown sheen.

The meal was absolutely delicious. It turned out Tom even grew his own assortment of spices, including thyme, rosemary, oregano as well as garlic. Gnarly also like the food, although it only seemed to be interested in the slices of apple.

Taking the slices with both of its hands, it licked the sugar off it before stuffing them into its mouth. Gnarly couldn’t get enough of it, creaking at Silas as soon as it finished one slice.

After the meal, the two of them went to a nearby creek to wash themselves.

The creek was one of the many junctions from the biggest river in Ceraviehl, called the Crystal River. Originating from the mountain, it flowed down towards Bryme and passed the Capital after a few hundred miles. The river eventually ended somewhere in the marshlands far to the west, separating itself into countless smaller streams.

Silas was glad to wash the sweat off his body. He also cleaned his set of clothes, having found a second one inside a wooden trunk in Tom’s cabin. They quickly went back to the cabin, hanging the wet clothes over one of the beams to dry.

Tom had promised Silas he would take him out to hunt today. Silas much preferred going out hunting over the monotonous spear training.

After getting his bow, quiver and a brown leather bag to collect herbs with Tom led Silas into the woods. The boy felt a bit anxious about leaving the safe confines of the clearing. The creek had barely been a few minutes away, a clear trail marking the way.

There was no trail here though, and one could easily lose any sense of direction while traversing the dense forest. Would he even find his way back to the cabin if he got separated from Tom?

Gnarly however didn’t share his sentiment. It could hardly stand still from its perch on Silas’ shoulder, bobbing up and down as if expecting to find a hidden treasure around every corner.

The two of them walked for a few minutes before Tom stopped and turned toward Silas.

“The first thing you need to learn about hunting is how to walk silently. Being a hunter is all about striking before the prey takes notice of your presence,” Tom began. “I will now teach you a special method of walking, one I expect you to use whenever you’re out in the woods, understood?“ Tom asked, receiving a short nod from Silas.

“I will only explain this once, so listen carefully,” Tom said, gesturing Silas to imitate him. “You start by bending your knees and shifting all of your weight onto your left leg. Then slowly put the other foot forward, placing it on the ground with the outer ball of your foot first.”

“Afterwards you roll into the inner side of your foot, finishing the step with your heel,” Tom demonstrated. “If done right, not even a rabbit will be able to hear you sneak up on it. And they have pretty good ears,” he told Silas.

‘Of course, it’s about rabbits. I can already imagine him stalking them through the woods like a cat, only to strangle rabbits with his bare hands.’ Silas chuckled at the mental picture.

Silas had listened attentively to Tom’s description, but the walking method was not easy by any means. Starting each step with the ball of your foot instead of your heel felt awkward, and it took Silas quite a bit of time to get used to. Apart from that, constantly putting all of your weight on one leg for every step you took was quite exhausting.

“It’s not easy to learn, but once you get it, you will never forget it. It’s like shooting a bow,” Tom stated.

“Will you also teach me how to shoot a bow, master?” Silas asked eagerly.

His father had taught him a bit about shooting a bow, although Silas hadn’t had the strength to draw his father’s bow properly. They had practiced almost every time during their family camping trips, and Silas had loved every second of it.

Shooting a bow was something that had always fascinated him. The vibrating humming sound the bowstring made, that intense moment of focus before releasing. There was just something magical about it. Silas looked up at Tom, hoping he would agree to teach him.

“Yes,” Tom responded. “In fact, you are going to start training this evening,” he added.

Silas' eyes went wide, and he had to stop himself from giggling. All of a sudden staying with the old and grumpy man didn’t seem so bad anymore. Silas could hardly wait to start his training, a light spring in his step.

A pat on his head shook him out of his daydreaming.

“You are making more noise than a Chimera, so watch your step!” Tom hissed at him. “We are supposed to be hunting, not dancing around!”

Glaring at Tom out of the corner of his eye, Silas concentrated on the walking technique the old man had taught him. They kept going for a while before Tom stopped suddenly. He gestured in front of him where various tracks could be seen. They looked similar to those of a wolf but were harder to spot, indicating a lighter animal had made them.

“What animal do these tracks belong to?” Tom asked Silas while keeping his voice low.

Silas shrugged his shoulders.

“Derots,” Tom stated. “See these small holes in the ground? That’s where their claws dug in,” he said, forming a three-fingered claw with his hand. “While Derots won’t normally attack humans, you should steer clear of them nonetheless. If a couple of them reach you, you’re in serious trouble,” Tom told him.

“I understand, master,” Silas replied.

The two of them continued to walk through the dense woods for some time. They made slow going since Silas needed to accustom himself to the new walking method. He occasionally broke a twig under his foot, earning him a stare from Tom.

The old man occasionally stopping to show his apprentice tracks from other animals. Apart from knowing which animal each set of tracks belonged to Tom could also tell when it had been there, as well as how fast it had been running.

He explained all of this to Silas patiently, who tried to take it in without forgetting anything. Silas had always liked to be out in the woods, so he eagerly listened to each of Tom’s explanations.

With time, walking with his ball first became easier for Silas although he still had to concentrate himself to avoid making too much noise. Tom however did not even need to look at the ground, instinctively knowing where to step. He was completely silent, not emitting a single noise. Silas followed his master closely to not lose sight of him.

Sometimes Tom stopped to pick or cut herbs, explaining their use to Silas.

“This one is called Eastern Mantle,” he said, pointing at a small plant to his left. It grows in almost any forest, and the sap of their leaves have antiseptic properties,” Tom said. “It means it’s good against infection,” he added after seeing Silas confused look. “The name comes after their soft and thick oval leaves that seem to embrace the whole plant,” Tom finished the description.

Tom repeated this process a few times, pointing at herbs and explaining their possible uses. He expected Silas to remember everything, so the young apprentice listened as best as he could.

His master was not someone who liked to repeat himself.

When training with the spear he had simply hit Silas where he found his stance to be lacking. It hadn’t really hurt, but it also wasn’t something Silas was keen on to keep experiencing.

After having shot a rabbit Tom and Silas made their way back to the cabin. By now Silas’ legs felt more than a bit wobbly, and the boy sat down for a moment to rest. Tom disappeared into the cabin, only to come back a few seconds later with a small recurve bow in his hands

“Before I will teach you how to shoot you need to know how to string and unstring your bow. Watch closely,” Tom demanded.

Silas watched Tom with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to begin to train shooting, but he was worried about not being strong enough to draw the bow properly.

“Start by putting the string loosely over both ends. Then place the bottom limb against the inner side of your foot with the string facing away from you. Put one hand on the top and the other on the grip in the middle,” Tom said, looking at Silas for a second to see if he paid attention.

“Now, you need to be very careful about the next part,” he continued. “It is quite easy to either hurt yourself or break the bow, and I don’t have another one you can practice with.”

“First apply pressure on the top while simultaneously pulling the bow at the grip towards you. Now push the string into the carving at the top end, slowly releasing the tension,” Tom explained, presenting the taut bow.

“To unstring the bow, do the same but simply push the top end of the string down to unhook the string. This method becomes increasingly difficult the more draw weight your bow has, but I think you should manage with this one,” he said.

Silas nodded eagerly, already holding his hand out.

The bow was smaller than Tom’s version, and its ends where curved elegantly. Being completely made out of one piece, its limbs had the color of a light black. Oval-shaped patterns decorated the smooth-looking grip in the middle.

The patterns had different shades of brown and green across it, the various colors coming together in a mesmerizing display of beauty. Looking at the work of art in his hands, Silas felt like he had butterflies in his stomach. It reminded him of that one time where Isolda had kissed him, back in Bildsfell.

Carefully imitating Tom’s technique, Silas unstrung and strung the bow again. Silas struggled a bit, but Standing on the ground the bow reached up to Silas’ chest, but he was surprised at how light it was. He hefted it up, putting one hand on the bowstring.

“Stop,” Tom broke in. “You never want to dry fire a bow, since the bow needs an arrow to properly release the build-up tension. Apart from that, always use protection for your fingers. While you may not feel it immediately, prolonged shooting without it can lead to serious harm,” he cautioned Silas.

“I understand, master,” Silas replied in his most obedient tone. “Can you teach me how to shoot now?” he asked the old man.

Grunting, Tom went towards the shed, motioning Silas to stay put. The old man returned with a quiver full of arrows and two sets of tight leather gloves, one of which he gave to Silas.

The gloves looked a bit odd. They only covered three fingers, leaving the little finger and thumb open. Tom explained to him this was to ensure the flexibility of your hand while still protecting your fingers.

“Above the grip is a small carving called the arrow rest. As you may have guessed already, this is where you put each arrow before firing,” Tom told his apprentice.

Silas’ master then laid the arrow on the rest of his own bow, drawing and releasing in one smooth motion. The arrow embedded itself with an audible ‘thud’ in the wall of the shed, the end of it vibrating for a second before coming still.

“Your turn,” Tom said, looking at Silas expectantly.