Mika let out a loud cry as the practice sword flew from her hand. She hated sword practice now. Before Martin joined them, Papa had been kind and reassuring. Now, he yelled more and was less patient. Martin didn’t help either. He was a lot better than she was, and he was mean. This time he had disarmed her quickly, and her hand stung from where he had hit her. This was all Ulf’s fault. She had been excited when he and Alexis had joined them for dinner the night before. As the evening wore on, her excitement waned. Ulf kept going on about how papa had been too easy on her and that if he didn’t get tough, she would never learn. She did want to learn, and she had liked the idea of having someone to practice with. That was until she met Martin. Now, she stood panting in the practice pen, grasping her hand. Martin stood close to her holding his practice blade to her chest.

“Dammit!” Ulf shouted. “I’m not gonna tell you again, boy. Back off, when you’ve disarmed her!”

Martin lowered his sword, and she let out a long breath. There had been times when he would follow up with a blow to the chest or leg. Papa had been angry, but Ulf just walked up to Martin every time and hit him with a large piece of wood. It looked like a piece from a table or something. She could see Papa walking to her and knew she was about to be yelled at.

“Mika,” he said sternly. “You’re gripping the hilt too tightly still. That boy’s a lot stronger than you; you can’t block him with strength. Loosen your grip and let your sword go with his when you block. You don’t need to stop his attack, just divert it.”

She walked over to her sword and picked it up. She was determined to prove she was strong, but she was finding it difficult to hold back the tears. When she came back, Papa was talking to Martin. At least he was just as hard on him.

“You’ve got to stop being so eager. You know you’re stronger than Mika, and it makes you reckless. Go slow, pace yourself, and stop rushing in for the kill every time.”

“Why don’t you find someone that can fight back then,” Martin said.

Papa turned and looked at Ulf. The big man just shrugged.

“You’ll stay out of it then,” Papa asked.

“Martin’s old enough to pick his fights, just don’t kill him,” Ulf replied.

“Ok, Martin,” Papa said, taking her sword from her, “show me what you’ve learned.”

She let the sword go and moved to Ulf. “Is Papa going to hurt him,” she asked.

“Probably, but he’s gotta learn, same as you,” Ulf said with a shrug.

The two of them watched as papa and Martin squared off. Martin didn’t take long to attack. He came at papa as quickly as he had her, but papa didn’t even move. His sword streaked forward and slammed Martin in the chest before he could close the gap.

“Overeager!” Papa shouted. “Again!”

Martin readied himself and came more slowly. He delivered a quick thrust, and papa slapped it aside. Instead of following with a strike of his own, he set the point of his sword on the ground. Martin regained his balance and tried an overhead cut. Papa’s sword leaped up and arced to meet Martin’s at the top of his swing. The two swords swept past papa to the side and hit the ground hard. Martin’s tumbled out of his hand.

“Too aggressive,” Papa shouted. “Pace yourself!”

Martin picked up his sword and faced Papa again. This time he did not immediately attack. The two of them circled each other, and Martin tried a slash. Papa deflected it easily, and Martin followed quickly with a thrust. Papa defeated that attack as well.

“Good,” Papa said. “Don’t be in too big a hurry. The longer the fight lasts, the less likely you are to win, but the faster you try to end it, the more likely you are to be killed. A fight must go at its own pace.”

Martin didn’t seem to want the encouraging words. He lunged at Papa. Papa turned aside and let Martin go past. Then he attacked. He swung side cuts, overhead cuts, thrusts, and slashes. Martin managed to block the first swing, but each one that followed found flesh. Martin screamed and finally dropped his sword. Papa wasn’t even breathing hard.

“The next time I tell you something, I expect you to listen. This isn’t a game, and my daughter isn’t your practice dummy. Understand?”

Papa came over to stand with them, but Martin stayed where he was, kneeling on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Ulf,” Papa said.

“For what?” Ulf asked. “The boy’s got a lot of anger, but that ain't no excuse to be stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Papa said. “I just know how angry I’d be if it was my kid getting beat on.”

“Martin ain't my kid,” Ulf said dismissively. “I’ll tell ya like I told him. The world ain't fair, but people often get what they deserve. He deserved that.”

Mika wasn’t sure if they remembered she was there, but papa’s words made her feel better. She was starting to understand how little he liked treating her like this. She really liked seeing Martin get beat too.

“I was thinking,” Ulf said. “Is the sword the best thing to teach them?”

“What do you mean?” Papa said, wiping his face with a towel.

“Well, Martin’s almost old enough to look the part carryin’ a sword around, but Mika ain't never gonna look right doing it.”

“You know what, you might be right,” Papa said. “Why don’t we call it a day and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

It took some doing, but they convinced Martin to join them in the house for lunch. Alexis had made an excellent meal. She had also cleaned the house from top to bottom.

“The house looks amazing,” Papa said when they entered.

“Hazards of owning an Inn, I’m afraid,” she said with a smile.

She laid the table and set out the remainder of their dried beef. She had covered it in thick gravy and let it sit by the fire so that it was tender, despite having been cured. The bread was stale by now, but she toasted it and smothered it with butter mixed with honey. There were none of the vegetables left, but it didn’t hamper the meal any. Mika ate two large helpings and sat back in her chair, stuffed.

“Did you like it?” Alexis asked.

“Oh, yes!” Mika said. “Are you going to cook like that all the time?”

She was worried that papa would be upset with her for being so excited, but he was on his third plate! Ulf didn’t seem to be bothering with plates. He stuffed some meat between pieces of bread and shoved it into his mouth. Martin was the only one who Martin seemed not to like the food. He ate sparingly. Mika decided to try being nice.

“Martin,” she said. “Would you like some more?”

“No,” Martin said simply.

“Don’t mind him,” Ulf said, slamming another piece of meat onto some bread. “He’s had his pride bruised a bit.”

“Ulf,” Alexis chided, “that is unkind.” She threw a small cloth at him. “Wipe your mouth; we’re not in the wild anymore.”

“Martin,” Papa said quietly, “you are learning quickly, but you need to control yourself. Swordplay is not something you can just rush into.”

Martin didn’t answer, and Mika recognized the look on his face. It was the same one Papa sometimes got when he was thinking about mother. She wondered if he had lost someone too.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

Martin looked up. “I’m used to being beaten,” he said.

The air seemed to leave the room. All conversation stopped, and everyone looked at him.

Ulf cleared his throat. “Alexis tells me we’re running low on meat,” he said. “Martin, why don’t you and me go hunting later and see if we can’t get some more?”

“Fine,” Martin said. He got up from the table and left the room.

“Mika,” papa said. “Will you please gather the dishes?”

Mika sat by the wash barrel, scrubbing the plates. Having guests made for better food, she thought, but it made for bigger messes too. Still, it didn’t take long to get through the task, and she spent the time lost in her own thoughts. She was worried about Martin. Well, she thought, she was concerned about facing Martin in the pen tomorrow, at least. If he blamed her for today, he might try to hurt her.

When she returned to the house, Alexis was sitting by the fire mending a shirt, and Papa was on the other side, working with some strips of leather. She quietly went back into the kitchen and took out her slate and chalk. She was getting a lot better at writing. She started by tracing the letters and sounding each one out to herself. Reka had not given her any new material, but she copied the words he had written during the harvest.

“That is very good,” Alexis said over her shoulder.

She jumped a little. “Thank you. I don’t think I like writing, though, it makes my hand hurt.”

“That is because you are holding the chalk too tightly. Try holding it like this.”

Mika watched as she showed her how to hold the chalk. When she tried to write again, it was a lot easier.

“Did Reka not show you this?” Alexis asked.

“No, he just showed me the letters,” she responded, amazed at how comfortable the chalk felt in her hand.

“Not surprising,” Alexis said, “he always did overlook the little things on his way to bigger ones.”

Mika liked Alexis, but she felt odd around her. She felt like she was betraying her mother somehow by enjoying Alexis’ company.

“You’re not my mother,” she said quickly.

“Of course not dear,” Alexis said soothingly. “I would never try to take her place.”

The words were kind, but they made her mad. “Why not?” She asked. She didn’t know why she was so angry all of a sudden.

“Can I tell you something?” Alexis asked, still in a soothing tone. Mika nodded, so she went on. “When I was very young, my father died, and I was sent to live with his friend. At first, I was angry because I thought he was trying to replace my father, then when I realized he wasn’t, I was angry because I thought he did not want to. I thought there was something wrong with me.”

“What did you do?” She asked.

“I stayed angry for a long time,” Alexis said. “One day, I woke up and understood that no one could replace my father, and it would have been wrong for Peter to try. He did the best he could.”

“When did you do that?”

“About five years ago,” Alexis said with a smile. “No one will ever be able to replace your mother, Mika, but you should not turn away someone just because you think they might try. Your father might meet someone new, and you do not want to wake up years from now wishing you had been kinder to her.”

Mika looked up. “You mean, meet someone like you?” She asked.

Alexis laughed. “No, not like me. Someone much better, I hope. Until then, however, I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Do you want me to stay away?”

Mika was having a hard time finding words. Going to the swamp and saying goodbye felt like losing her mother all over again. She did like Alexis, and having her around made the pain easier to deal with.

“No,” she said between sobs.

Alexis leaned down and hugged her. “Good,” she said. “Now, how about we work on some different words?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing. By the time dinner arrived, Ulf and Martin had still not returned from their hunting trip. Mika set the table, and Alexis brought out the stew. She had been allowed to help, and she was amazed by the number of spices Alexis had. She had never heard of most of them, but it made the stew smelled terrific. When she finally got to eat it, it tasted just as good as it smelled.

When she got up the next morning, there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. The sky was full of dark clouds that promised more to come. Her room was cold, and she desperately wanted to stay in bed. She was not used to getting up so early during the winter, but Papa never did anything halfway. If he was going to teach them, he was going to do it, snow or no snow. She grudgingly got up and shuffled to the main room. Papa was already up, still working on those pieces of leather. Ulf and Martin were also up and huddled near the fireplace. She had not heard them come back the night before and wondered how the hunt had gone.

“Did you get anything?” She asked.

“Nah,” Ulf said. “Ya got some fine looking land, but the hunting ain't worth a damn.”

Alexis came in from the kitchen. Something smelled good. “Ulf’s just modest,” she said, wiping her hands. “Breakfast is ready.”

The hunting might have been poor, she thought, but the fishing was obviously excellent. Her plate held a large bass. Alexis had coated it in some flour and fried it to a crisp. It smelled like she had put some of those wonderful spices on it as well. As she ate, she noticed Martin seemed in a much better mood. He was talking to Papa eagerly.

“Are we gonna fight again today,” he asked.

“No,” Papa said. “I think we need a break from the sword. Today we’re going to work with something a little different.”

He led them to the practice pen after they had eaten, and Mika saw that he had placed several pieces of firewood upright near the fence. He pulled out the leather he was working with and handed one to her and Martin. Now that she held it in her hand, she knew what it was. It was a strip about three feet long and bulged in the middle to form a small pouch. She loved the sling, and she wasn’t too bad with it either. She used one occasionally to take a squirrel or little bird when she got some free time. The fresh meat was always welcome, but she enjoyed the satisfaction that came with helping Papa with the food. Martin looked at his sling with confusion.

“Mika,” Papa said, “I know you know what this is and how to use it, but we are going to go through it step by step with Martin.”

Mika could not contain herself. She picked up a small stone from a pile her father must have gathered and placed it in the sling. She spun it a few times, and then let one end go. The snap and whir of the rock leaving the pouch, filled her with excitement. There was a puff of snow near one of the logs as the stone slammed into the ground. She had missed.

“Well,” Papa said, “I thought you knew how to use one. Maybe you should wait until Martin is ready, and you can do it together.”

She felt a little silly. It hadn’t been that poor of a shot, she thought. The rest of the morning passed quickly. She was getting her form back, and by the time Papa called a stop for lunch, she was hitting six out of every ten logs. Martin was not doing too well. He always complained that the sword was more fun and asked if they could go back to it.

“You only want to go back to the sword because you are better at it,” Papa had said, “now pay attention.”

They practically ran to the house. The warmth felt great, and she reveled in it. Martin was definitely unhappy with his performance, but he ate his lunch eagerly. It was fish again, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t think she could ever get tired of Alexis’ cooking. Papa finished his food quickly and left the room.

“You kids have a little more time to slack off, but when I call for you, I expect you outside.” He said.

They both assured him they would be there, then went back to eating. Not only was the food good, but the meal was fun too. Alexis was trying to get Ulf to use proper utensils, and he was having a hard time. He was grabbing his fork with his whole fist, and the food kept falling off before reaching his mouth. She thought he might be doing it for the laughs, or to make Alexis angry. If so, it worked. By the time he gave up and used his hands to scoop the rest of the fish into his mouth, she and Martin were almost rolling with laughter. Alexis, on the other hand, was not.

“I swear, Ulf,” she said, “I am not going to let you sit at the table if you keep on like that.”

“What,” Ulf said, bits of fish flying out of his mouth.

Alexis just snorted and gathered the plates. Ulf looked at them with a great big smile. They heard Papa call for them and grudgingly let the kitchen. Ulf and Alexis’ arguing followed them all the way out of the house. When they got to the pen, Papa was standing with two large poles in his hands. She recognized the bail staves and wondered why he had them out.

“We don’t have proper quarterstaffs, but these will work for now.” He said. “Come along, each of you take one.”

She and Martin grabbed one each and watched as Papa left to retrieve a third. He showed them how to hold it along with a few swings. Just it had been with the sword, there were particular ways to move and set forms to follow when swinging. Unlike the sword, the staff felt comfortable in her hand. When she and Martin squared off at the end of the day, she found the two-handed grip help negate some of Martin’s strength, and the leverage the length provided helped add a little to hers. Neither one of them was perfect, but that made it more fun. Without a distinct advantage, Martin was less mean.

“Every day,” Papa said when they were done, “we will rotate between the sword, sling, and staff. If you get good enough, we might even try our hand at the bow.”

For the next couple of weeks, they did just that. She thought back to Martin’s hunting trip with Ulf. Whatever they did, it transformed him. He had become easier to be around and even started writing with her in the evenings. He was a natural at the sword, and Papa was beginning to spend more time with him one on one. She was, much to her surprise, very good with the staff. She and Martin had even faced off a few times, him with the sword, her with the staff. There was never any clear winner because Papa always stopped them short, but it was exhilarating. With each passing day, though, the sling got less and less time.

They came into the house after a long day of training and heard voices coming from the kitchen. When she went into to see who it was, she found Reka sitting at the table talking to Alexis. He turned to her when she entered.

“It is time,” he said.