Chapter 05 - A warrior's apprentice

Putt's silent companionship grew comfortable as the evening wore on. Avia was touched by his thoughtful gestures, like slicing the dried meat for their meal—an act that spoke of his upbringing, where manners clearly mattered. It was a small, yet poignant reminder of the care his parents had instilled in him, a care that seemed at odds with the rough-and-tumble life Avia led.
"We need to replace your pants," she observed out loud, noting the wear and tear on his clothing that had become more apparent as they traveled. Putt looked down, seemingly unaware of the state of his trousers until she pointed it out.
"They're worn and too small for you," she explained, spreading the deer skin they had procured on the ground to scrape off the remnants of fat and flesh. "We'd better get you a pair of leather pants." Her hands worked deftly, maintaining the hide's suppleness for a future trade or use.
"Is that what you're doing?" Putt asked, his curiosity piqued.
Avia realized that his experience with livestock was limited to the animals kept for milk or wool, not for meat or hides. "No. I'm keeping the skin in good condition to trade at a tanner’s. If I don’t, it’ll stiffen and rot. We’ll look for a tanner in the next village, should find one by tomorrow."
Putt nodded, pulling at the fabric of his pants, yet remained silent, his mind seemingly elsewhere.
Avia appreciated the quiet; it was a contrast to the often incessant chatter she encountered with others who felt the need to fill every silence. Putt, however, asked questions that mattered, that related directly to their life and survival—not trivial small talk or gossip that Avia found so tedious. Yet, she sensed there were things he wanted to ask but held back, perhaps questions about his future or more pressing, personal matters regarding their situation.
She respected his need for silence, understanding that everyone processes grief and change differently. Yet, his reticence also unnerved her. Avia was used to solitude and the stillness it brought, but Putt’s quietude seemed laden with unspoken thoughts and unasked questions.
As night fell and she finished caring for the leather, she turned her attention to her weapons. Maintenance was a ritual, a necessity of her profession that she never neglected. Wax for the bow, a whetstone for her blades, and a careful tally of her arrows ensured she was always ready for whatever lay ahead. As she worked, she planned ahead for replenishing her supplies, knowing well that each arrow was crucial not only for hunting but for her protection and livelihood.
In the quiet of the evening, with only the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind, Avia contemplated her new reality. She was a warrior, a survivor used to facing life’s challenges alone. Now, she had Putt, a boy who needed more than just survival skills; he needed understanding, guidance, and perhaps most of all, a sense of security and belonging. Avia was prepared to teach him how to fight and how to live off the land, but she was now also learning how to reconnect with the part of herself capable of nurturing and caring—qualities she hadn’t exercised since her own daughter was young.
As the fire died down and the stars began to blanket the sky, Avia realized that their journey together was not just about moving from place to place. It was about forging a path that could lead them both to a new understanding of home and family, however unconventional it might be.


"What do you see yourself doing when you're grown up?" Avia asked Putt, breaking the evening stillness. Putt hesitated before responding.
"I don't know."
"What did your parents envision for you?" she prodded gently.
"Farmer," he replied simply.
It made sense; they probably imagined him taking over the family farm, living in the home he grew up in, marrying someone who would join him in that life, surrounded by a growing family.
"Well, I can't teach you farming," Avia said, settling back against her pack. "But you're old enough to start learning a trade."
"You're a warrior, right, Granny?" Putt looked at her with new curiosity.
"I am," she affirmed.
"Could you teach me to be a warrior?" he asked. The request seemed natural—he knew of no other trade she could teach.
"We can see if you're suited to it," Avia responded. She had never seen her grandson as a warrior since that had never been an option for his mother and father.
Putt fell silent, staring into the fire. Avia let the conversation pause, respecting his contemplation, and busied herself with wrapping up the remaining smoked deer meat.
"What about Mom's father? Was he a warrior too?" Putt’s question pierced the quiet.
"No. My husband was a blacksmith," Avia explained.
"And your parents?" he asked, looking up with interest.
"My father was a baker, learned the trade from his aunt. My mother was a sorcerer, educated at the wizard's school," she recounted, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and nostalgia.
If there had been trees around, Avia would have hung the meat to keep it away from predators, but the barren landscape offered no such convenience. She tucked the package under some stones instead, the best makeshift solution available.
"So, how did you become a warrior?" Putt’s question was full of genuine curiosity.
Avia smiled, recalling her own path.
"I was still too young to become a woman when a warrior visited our village. I used to deliver bread to the inn where he stayed—it was just across the street. One day, as I was carrying a basket of bread, I managed to catch a bun that was falling and then another. He noticed and saw potential in me. After testing my reflexes and spirit, he asked my parents if he could take me on as an apprentice. He became my master, I left home and stayed with him until I was an adult and a trained warrior."
"You left home?" Putt’s voice was tinged with disbelief.
Avia nodded.
"My parents supported my apprenticeship," she clarified, seeing skepticism in his expression. "In our village, it wasn’t unusual to follow a path different from your parents’. Being chosen by a warrior was considered an honor. It was the best choice for my future, and my parents agreed."
Putt mulled over her words, his face somber. "My father wouldn’t have seen it as an honor," he murmured.
"I know," Avia shrugged. "And it’s alright that you wanted to be a farmer—that’s a noble life. But I can’t teach you that. You can train with me as a warrior, or we can find you a master in another trade. It’s important you choose a path that will give you a good life as an adult. What do you say?"
After a moment of heavy silence, Putt exhaled slowly. "I’d like to become a warrior, please."


From his earliest memories, Putt had always admired his grandmother, Avia. She was a real-life version of the brave and righteous warriors from the fairy tales his mother used to tell him before she passed away. Whenever Avia visited, he would eagerly follow her around, captivated by her unique appearance, her clothes, her weapons. He would proudly show her off to all his friends, who would listen in awe as she shared tales of the vast world beyond their small, sheltered village.
The night the raiders attacked his village, setting everything ablaze, Putt had instinctively searched for Avia. In such a moment of crisis, he believed she would appear to set things right, just like the warriors in his mother’s stories. But she hadn’t come. Although the men who took them had been kind to them, providing food and blankets, the shock had left him too numb to fully grasp the reality of his loss. His grandmother, his hero, had not been there to save him.
Later, waking up in another tent to find Avia beside him had changed everything. Though she had arrived too late to prevent the tragedy, she had come to rescue him. Now, she offered to teach him to become a warrior like her. Despite knowing his parents would have disapproved—his father had always despised Avia’s unconventional lifestyle—Putt felt a pull toward the life his grandmother represented. His father had envisioned a future for him as a farmer, living a stable, secure life and perhaps filling the house with his own family one day. But now, with both of his parents gone, those plans seemed part of a different life.
Putt’s curiosity about the world outside had always lingered, fueled by stories his parents told of their own experiences—stories filled with warnings of cruelty and hardship but also speaking to the existence of life beyond their village. Unlike his parents, Avia's had been proud of her path as a warrior's apprentice. Maybe, Putt considered, he could find a new path for himself too, one that honored both his parents' memories and his own dreams.
He knew it wouldn't be the life his parents had imagined for him, but he believed it could be one where he might make them proud, even in their absence. This was his chance to learn, to grow, and perhaps to heal.