***
“Come on, Bo, hurry up! I’m going to beat you today!”
“Thirty-three years old and impatient as ever,” Bo muttered, walking patiently to the training grove as Kian jogged ahead of him. “You haven’t beaten me once all this time,” he said, raising his voice. “So what makes you think you can do it today?”“No clue! But I’m going to try!”
Bo rolled his eyes. “So much energy,” he muttered. Then, “You aren’t even changed yet! Get ready to start!”
“Right!” Kian said, going behind a tree to take off his clothes and change, his deer form spreading out from behind the tree. He galloped over to Bo, dancing in place and snorting, his great rack blocking quite a bit of sun.
“Are you going to fight with me or dance with me, Kian?” he said. Kian snorted and held still, lowering his head so it was level with Bo’s rather than three heads higher. “Ready?”
The elk snorted.
“Then…go!” Bo shouted, leaping out of the way to avoid the immediate charge and dashing behind the elk.
“Predictable!” he called. Kian reared and turned back around, leaping at Bo and trying to plant his hooves on Bo’s head.
Bo ducked and rolled to the side, letting Kian’s enormous weight plow the ground instead. “If that’s the best you can start with in all this time, you’re going to need remedial lessons!” he called as he swiped at Kian’s shoulder, but Kian sidestepped just in time and lowered his head in the same moment, turning his rack to catch Bo in the jaw.
“Good,” Bo praised, leaping back. He rubbed his jaw. “Good thing we aren’t hitting any harder,” he grumbled before leaping back at Kian, who was simultaneously charging at him.
Bo intended to take hold of Kian’s throat, but Kian lowered his head in time to catch Bo in his antlers. Kian continued charging ahead with new vigor, and Bo knew the boy was aiming to catch him between a tree and his enormous rack. Managing to find a handhold, he leapt off in time for Kian to plow into the target without him.
Kian shook his large head and turned back to Bo, stomping the ground. Bo was very tempted to laugh at his pupil’s frustration.
Once again Kian tried to charge at Bo, but Bo was prepared and stepped aside, ducking as Kian tried to hit him with his rack. As Kian missed and began to turn, Bo managed to run and leap onto him, using the antlers as a handhold as Kian tried to buck him off.
“Use more of your front,” Bo directed. “I’m not sitting on your rear!”
Taking his advice, Kian began using more of his shoulders. He also decided to add a lot of spinning to the mix. However, Bo had a good hold on Kian’s side with his legs and a good grip with his right hand. Using his left arm, he quickly stretched and took a jab at the soft part of Kian’s throat. The game was won.
Kian stopped bucking, his breaths heaving. Bo straightened on his back, patting his damp neck. “Good fight. Try being a little less predictable, though.”
Kian snorted.
“Also, don’t leap at an opponent as fast as I am or as vicious as I can be. I could have ripped open your chest, which you left open, or your throat, and managed to get away before you hit the ground. And if something’s on your back, try backing up and rearing them into a tree. It’ll at least drive the air out of them and make it easier to shake them off.”
After Bo finished doling out advice, Kian knelt and let Bo get off. Then he went back behind his tree, donning his clothes once more. “Well, I tried,” Kian sighed, emerging from behind the old alder.
“You did. I still won.”
“Yeah, well, either way, I planned on visiting Ma and Da’s grave before night set in, so I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kian said, giving Bo a lopsided smile.
“All right. Have a good night,” Bo said, giving Kian a small wave before the boy turned back and walked away. Bo looked up at the sunset sky through the trees and turned to head back home.
As Bo lay on his bed staring up at his tattered roof that night, he felt Dayo join him. Hello, Dayo, he greeted.
“Hello, Bo,” Dayo greeted, rather happily.
Is it time?
“He is ready.”
Where is he?
“America. Michigan, roughly.”
I don’t have a clue as to where that is. My maps are a bit outdated.
“Well, that’s fine. I’m going to be the one to fly you there, after all. But to find him, I would recommend some espionage.”
Spy?
“Yes, spy. On dragons, to be specific. We don’t actually hoard physical treasure, after all—that’s fallen rather out of style, considering so many were killed for their jewels. We do, however, hoard knowledge. And such a special case is a special treasure to know of.”
All right, I suppose.
“You suppose?” Dayo huffed. Before Bo could retort, however, he continued. “Well, anyway, shall I pick you up in the morning?”
Yes—wait, Bo thought, having a realization. Actually, could we do it in the evening? I’d like to say good-bye to Kian.
“I can manage that. At sunset, then? At the boy’s grave?”
Yes. At Ryan’s grave.
Dayo fled from Bo’s mind then, leaving him alone with memories.
“So,” he whispered to himself. “I guess we’ll be leaving Ireland for the last time tomorrow, won’t we? And we’ll have to burn all of this,” he said, gazing around in the dimness at the cabin he and Ryan had built. His eyes stopped on the old gray hat that rested on the corner of the chair. “Time to go,” he murmured, closing his eyes and falling asleep.