Dindi
Dindi spent about an hour gathering the herbs Gwenika had asked for.
Some fae helped her find the harder ones. In return, they wanted a little play.
She did not expect to see Kavio again before sunset.
But suddenly, he was there. Watching her from behind some leaves.
Her heart jumped. She didn't know if she was afraid he'd caught her dancing with the fae—or if just seeing him made it hard to breathe.
"We don't have long," Kavio said, like they had already been talking.
He pulled arrows from his quiver to mark a clearing. He stepped on some brush to flatten the grassy space. From a pouch on his belt, he took a pinch of salt and tossed it on the ground.
He had planned all of this.
"I want to be back at the clanhold before sunset," he said.
"But… here? Now? I thought you needed to hunt."
Without a word, he held up a deer and two partridges. Their feet were tied together. He set them down on the far side of the arrow-marked space.
"We start simple," he said. "Show me your animal positions."
"My what?"
"The basic positions," he said. He jabbed the air, impatient. "The Bull, the Jaguar, the Coyote, the Snake, the Bear, the Mouse. All of them. Start with the Still forms. Then the Moving forms, if you know them."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.
"The basic positions you learned when you were a little girl. From your clan's Tavaedi."
"Our clan was too small. We had no Tavaedi. Three clans shared a secret group to teach magic."
"Then your parents or someone else must have taught you the animal positions. To prepare you for the Testing."
She shook her head.
He stared at her. "But, Dindi, I saw you dancing. You used them. You went far beyond the basics. You must know them."
She shrugged. "Sorry."
"Mmfff." Kavio let out a breath of frustration. "This may take longer than I thought. We really must start at the beginning."
"I warned you. I'm the worst dancer in Faearth."
He gave her a strange look.
"I don't think so. When I saw you dancing alone above the Tavaedies, I thought you were one of the Yellow Bear teachers. I thought you were bored and stretching your legs.
"I should have known no teacher would leave the salted ground. Maybe I thought you had made your own. Or… I don't know what I thought.
"But I remember clearly—you didn't dance like a beginner. Someone must have taught you."
Not unless you count the fae, Dindi thought. But she didn't say it.
The fae didn't teach. They just danced. She tried her best to copy them.
"I tried to copy the Tavaedies," she said.
"You mean you were spying on the Tavaedies even before you failed the Test?"
"No. Before my year of Initiation, I watched their performances. Then I tried to copy them later. Alone."
"I've never heard of anyone learning to dance that way."
"Are you sorry you agreed to this?"
"When I give my word, I don't take it back," Kavio said.
That didn't really answer her question.
"Watch me," he said. "I will show you the animal positions."
He stood in the center of the space.
To Dindi, it looked like a simple dance. He moved from one pose to another.
"That's easy," she said.
He waved for her to try.
She copied him. But her moves were smoother, faster. She finished with a playful look, waiting to see if he would match her.
But he didn't smile. He frowned.
"Close," he said. "But you blurred the positions. Do it slower. I want to see your feet and your hands."
That wasn't the answer Dindi wanted. Feeling a little embarrassed, she did the moves more slowly.
"Again. Even slower."
She was getting bored now, but she repeated the sequence again.
"Adequate, for now," he said, arms crossed. "But your form needs work. Let's start one at a time.
"In honor of my new tribe, we start with the Bear. Arms up at the elbow. Back arched. Feet apart. On your toes."
She tried the pose. He wasn't pleased.
He moved her elbows, tapped her legs farther apart with his foot, and touched her back to push her hips forward.
"There. Just like that. We'll go through the positions one at a time. When we return to this one, I want your body in this exact shape. Each time. Every time. We'll drill until you get it right."
Kavio was not joking. He cared a lot about doing it right.
Dindi had never had a more boring dance lesson.
If her foot or finger was off even a little, he made her start again.
She had often practiced the same move many times on her own. But when it felt right to her, she moved on.
Now, she had to do the move until it felt right to him.
And there was another problem.
She was bored. So she began to make up silly versions of the moves in her mind.
When Kavio called for a break, she drank some water. Then she started to dance again, but not the usual way.
"Wait until we start again, Dindi," he said. "You're doing the Goat wrong."
"This isn't the Goat," she said. "It's the Goat With Three Legs. Look!"
She hopped around like a silly goat.
Kavio's eyes went wide. He ran over and grabbed her arms.
"Stop!" he cried.