She was good.
The first thing he saw wasn't her silver hair or her looks. He didn't even think about the girl with a spear standing by the lake. He just noticed how good she was. She was actually, truly skilled.
The second thing he noticed was that she was stuck.
She was doing the same movement over and over: a forward stab while turning her hips. It was supposed to add extra power to the spear tip when it hit something. The stab was good, and her hip movement was there, but something still wasn't right.
But they weren't talking to each other.
The two movements were happening in a sequence rather than at the same time. She was thrusting the spear first and then rotating her hips, and that was only generating about sixty percent of the intended power. she clearly knew it, because she kept stopping at the end of each repetition.
He watched and let his multiplier analyze the scene.
Her foot was off-balance, her shoulder was moving too fast, and her hands were gripping the spear the wrong way. His multiplier broke it all down until the solution was clear. He knew exactly what she was aiming for, and he knew exactly how to get her there.
He looked around the ground near him.
There was a fallen branch at the base of the nearest tree, about a meter long. He picked it up without thinking.
She heard the sound of him picking it up.
The spear moved so fast that he jumped back without thinking. It took a second for him to realize she had stopped the tip few inches away from his throat.
Neither of them moved.
"Sorry," he said. "I wasn't sneaking. I was just walking."
She looked at him for a moment, then at the branch in his hand. The spear came down.
"The estate path doesn't go past the lake," she said.
"I went off the path."
"Why." she asked.
He considered that. "I couldn't sleep."
She stared at him directly. Since he had interrupted her by walking out of the dark, she wanted to see who he was. She had silver hair that was tied back and she looked about the same age as him.
"You were watching me," she said.
"Yes."
"For how long."
"A few minutes."
She looked at the branch again. "And now you're holding a stick."
"I wanted to show you something. If that's alright." Holden said.
She thought about what he said. He could see her trying to know if he was dangerous or just weird. It was up to her to decide what to do next.
"Show me what," she said.
He adjusted his grip on the stick, holding it firmly as if he was holding a spear.
"Your hip rotation comes after the thrust," he said. "It should come with it."
Her expression didn't change, but the look in her eyes was different now.
"I know that," she said.
"I know you know that," he said. "The issue is your left foot. It's pointed too far in, which makes your hips turn too soon." He paused. "You're not doing anything wrong. You're doing two right things in the wrong order because your starting position is slightly off."
"Show me," she said.
He planted his lead foot just a few inches further out. It felt a bit strange, but it made his hips and shoulders feel more connected. He did the move slowly, moving the branch in a straight line as if it were a spear. Instead of forcing his hips to turn, he waited for the stab to finish first and then his hips naturally followed through.
The branch came to the end of its arc and stopped.
Even at a slower pace, he could feel the change. The rotational force hit at just the right time, and the two parts of the move finally flowed together.
He looked back at her.
"Again," she said.
He did it again, same speed, same correction. This time, he talked quietly while he moved. He explained the foot angle, the order of the steps, and the exact moment when the hip should turn.
She watched the branch the whole time.
Then she turned back to the lake, raised the spear, placed her foot three degrees outward, and performed the move.
Whoosh.
The spear moved faster than it ever had in all her long hours of practice. The timing was finally perfect.
She held the end position. Stood in it for a moment
Then she turned and looked at him.
He was waiting for several possible reactions. He expected her to be suspicious of his advice, or maybe offended that a stranger had pointed out her mistakes. Instead, she just stared at him. Her eyes were calm with no trace of anger or doubt.
"Who are you," she said.
"Holden Voss."
Something moved across her face. She was beginning to recognize him, not just his face, but everything she already knew about him.
"First place," she said.
"Yes."
She looked at the branch in his hand. Then back at him. It was clear she was rethinking everything she thought she knew about him.
"Lyra," she said. "Lyra Vael."
He nodded.
Lyra turned back to the water and ran the thrust again.
Whoosh.
She was already memorizing the corrections and making it a natural part of her own training
He stood there observing her. His multiplier was busy analyzing everything she did. it kept track of every time she tried the move, seeing which parts she improved and which parts still needed more work.
He didn't say any of that.
He waited to see what she would do next.
She ran it a third time.
Whoosh.
Better still.
She put her spear down and looked at him. He could tell she had finally made up her mind. She seemed surprised by her own conclusion, but she wasn't going to fight it.
"How did you see that," she said.
"From a few minutes of watching."
He considered giving a complicated answer.
"I see patterns," he said, which was the simplest version and also the most accurate one.
She looked at him for a moment longer, then at the branch, and the corner of her mouth moved in a way that wasn't quite a smile but was in the same neighborhood.
"You came out here to not sleep," she said, "and ended up fixing my hip rotation with a stick."
"That's about right."
"Strange night," she said.
"Generally, yes," he agreed.
She raised the spear again.
"Show me once more," she said.
"Slower this time."