Violet's answer hung in the air for a heartbeat.
"Yes. Teach me."
Kari studied her face—searching for doubt, for hesitation, for the kind of false bravado that crumbled at the first sign of real hardship.
She found none.
Finally, Kari nodded once. "Good. We start now."
"Now?" Violet blinked. "But I just—"
"Collapsed in a healing ward?" Kari's scarred eyebrow arched. "And yet you're standing here. If you're well enough to walk to the refuge, you're well enough to begin." Her yellow eyes glinted. "Unless you've changed your mind?"
"No." Violet straightened despite the exhaustion still weighing her limbs. "I haven't."
"Then follow me."
Kari turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing where the trees grew denser. Violet followed, feeling every eye in the refuge tracking her movement.
Vael started to follow too, but Bara's massive hand landed on his shoulder.
"Let them work, pup. You can watch from here."
Garrett remained silent, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. But Violet caught the slight nod he gave her—approval mixed with concern.
***
They stopped in a small clearing barely twenty paces across. The ground was relatively flat, covered in a thin layer of old snow and dead leaves.
Kari turned to face Violet, her posture relaxed but alert. "Before we touch weapons, we need to address the fundamentals."
"What fundamentals?"
"Your body." Kari circled slowly, studying Violet from every angle. "You're small. Weak from illness. Your muscles have atrophied from months of reduced activity."
Each word landed like a stone. Violet's jaw tightened.
"But," Kari continued, stopping in front of her, "your father tells me you can cast magic. That you have mana reserves most children your age lack."
"I do."
"Show me. Nothing flashy. Just channel your mana and hold it."
Violet closed her eyes and reached inward. The familiar cold of her ice magic rose immediately—eager, responsive despite her exhaustion.
She pulled it through her circuits carefully, letting it pool in her chest without releasing it.
Her skin cooled. Frost formed on her eyelashes.
"Enough."
Violet released the magic slowly, feeling it disperse like breath on winter air.
Kari nodded, something like approval crossing her features. "Your control is good. Better than expected. But your physical foundation is terrible."
She moved behind Violet suddenly. "Stand straight. Shoulders back."
Violet obeyed.
Kari's hands pressed against her spine, adjusting her posture with clinical precision. "Your center of gravity is too high. You lean forward when you move—probably compensating for pain in your chest."
"The illness—"
"Makes you favor your right side. I've been watching you walk." Kari moved to Violet's front again. "When you step, your left foot hesitates. Small difference, barely noticeable. But in combat, that hesitation is the difference between blocking a blade and taking it in the throat."
Violet swallowed.
"We're going to fix that," Kari said. "But it won't be pleasant."
She gestured to the ground. "Sit. Cross-legged. Hands on your knees."
Violet sat, mimicking the position.
"This is the foundation of the Snow Leopard style," Kari began, lowering herself to sit across from Violet. "Before speed, before precision, before the daggers themselves—there is breath."
"Breath?"
"Everything in combat begins and ends with breath." Kari's voice had taken on a different quality—less harsh instructor, more patient teacher. "Control your breathing, and you control your body. Control your body, and you control your fear."
She demonstrated—inhaling slowly through her nose, holding for three counts, exhaling through her mouth.
"Your turn. Match my rhythm."
Violet tried. Her first breath was too shallow, catching in her chest where phantom pain still lingered.
"Again."
She breathed. Too fast this time.
"Slower. Fill your lungs completely. Feel the air reach the bottom of your stomach."
Violet focused, pushing past the discomfort. Her third attempt was better—deeper, more controlled.
"Better," Kari acknowledged. "Keep going. Twenty breaths, no mistakes."
They sat in silence broken only by the sound of controlled breathing. Violet lost count twice, had to start over. Her chest began to ache from the unfamiliar depth of each breath.
But slowly, something shifted.
The tension in her shoulders eased. The constant awareness of her body's weakness faded slightly into the background.
By the twentieth breath, she felt... lighter. Clearer.
"Good." Kari stood in one fluid motion. "Now we move."
She demonstrated a stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight distributed evenly.
"This is neutral position. You'll return to this between every movement." She shifted her weight to her left foot. "From here, you can move in any direction without telegraphing intent."
Kari moved—a step forward, then to the side, then back—each transition smooth as water flowing.
"Your turn."
Violet stood and tried to copy the stance. Her knees locked immediately.
"Relax," Kari corrected. "You're not a statue. Stay loose. Ready."
She adjusted Violet's feet with gentle kicks, pushed her shoulders back, tapped her knee to remind her to bend.
"Now step forward. Just one step. Return to neutral."
Violet stepped. Her weight shifted wrong, nearly making her stumble.
"Again."
She tried twenty times. Each one slightly better than the last, but none perfect.
"Your left side is weaker," Kari observed. "We'll need to strengthen it specifically. Tomorrow, we'll start conditioning exercises."
"Conditioning?"
"Running. Climbing. Carrying weight." Kari's smile was sharp. "Nothing builds a foundation like honest labor."
Violet's stomach sank. She'd hoped to skip straight to the exciting parts—learning strikes, practicing with actual daggers.
Kari seemed to read her thoughts. "I know it's not what you imagined. But trying to learn combat without proper foundation is like building a house on sand. The first real strike will collapse everything."
Her hand rested briefly on Violet's shoulder. "You need to be dangerous."
The word hung between them.
"I want to be," Violet said quietly.
"Then trust the process." Kari stepped back. "We'll train every day. Morning if possible, evening if not. Within three months, you'll be able to hold your own against most untrained opponents."
"And after that?"
"After that?" Kari's smile turned predatory. "After that, we'll see if you're worthy of the Claws."
***
They returned to the main clearing as the sun began to set.
Vael immediately rushed over. "How was it? Did you use daggers? Did you—"
"We breathed," Violet said flatly.
"...You breathed?" Vael tilted his head...
"A lot." Violet nodded.
Garrett approached, studying Violet's face. "How do you feel?"
"Tired," she admitted. "But... good. Different."
"You look steadier," he observed. "Your posture's already changing."
"One lesson and you can see a difference?" Violet asked, surprised.
"I've been watching you your whole life, Littlebird. I notice everything." His hand landed gently on her head. "Come. Your mother will worry if we're late."
***
The walk back to the cottage was quiet.
Violet's mind churned through everything Kari had taught—the breathing exercises, the neutral stance, the promise of harder training to come.
Her body ached in new ways. Muscles she hadn't known existed complained with each step.
But underneath the exhaustion, something else stirred.
Anticipation.
For the first time since regression, she was actively building strength instead of desperately trying to survive.
It felt like planting seeds instead of mourning dead crops.
"Papa," she said as the cottage came into view. "Thank you. For arranging this with Kari."
Garrett grunted—his version of "you're welcome."
"When you're stronger," he added after a moment, "I'll teach you the axe. Kari's style is good for close combat. But sometimes you need reach. Weight. The ability to break through an opponent's guard instead of dancing around it."
Violet looked up at him. "You'd teach me?"
"Who else?" His lips quirked slightly. "Can't have my daughter running around with only one weapon style. That's just poor planning."
Despite everything—the exhaustion, the pain, the constant threat of Calla discovering the truth—Violet smiled.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like a weight dragging her down.
It felt like a path she was actively choosing to walk.
And that made all the difference.