What he could not deal with would be the possible backlash that Isi would have to suffer. Though technically strictly his thrall, the rougher and crueler types wouldn't hesitate to hassle her when he wasn't within eyesight. That hassling could range from words, such as insults and sneers, to mistreatment, such as cuffs and scratches, to outright violence, which could potentially put Isi's life at risk. Since that was the exact opposite reason for teaching her to fight, he would rather avoid that if at all possible.
So this was why he was meeting her in a secluded cove, quite a distance from the dens and shielded from prying eyes from all sides but the sea. He suspected this was a favored trysting place for courting couples, but with its sandy floor and perfect size, it made a good approximation of a sparring circle. As he scrambled down the narrow ledge that led down to the makeshift training ground, he saw her pale form below. "Isi, have any trouble with anyone on your way here?" he called as he leaped from the last outcropping to the ground with a muffled thump.
Isi had heard him coming, of course, and been watching his progress down the trail. Had it been anyone else, she'd have likely plunged into the water to find a way out of sight. The only drawback of this spot for her training was that it had only the one way in or out, aside from swimming. Should anyone else ever catch her here, and intend anything ill, she could be a sitting duck. There was no hiding her blazing white coat, after all, even when their training cove was shaded.
"Not a one," she replied, rising from her seat to greet him. Though she technically was older than he, and although it had been noticeable when he'd first taken her as his thrall to save her, at this point they'd gone through too much to have age be much of a factor. They were peers, albeit of an odd sort. Thralls and non-thralls weren't supposed to be anything but masters and slaves, with the rare exception of the master taking the thrall as a mate. Usually it was a male taking a female thrall, but not always. But that didn't apply to her and Hroarr at all.
No, they were companions and... well, really more like co-workers. Different jobs, but both benefiting from the other excelling at their specialty. Hroarr's prowess as a captain was keeping her safe from the roving attentions of others. Isi's healer abilities were allowing Hroarr's warband to be more efficient, as his reavers were up and fighting again sooner than those untended by an accomplished healer. It was a relationship of mutual benefit and respect. But now Hroarr was going above and beyond. He was conspiring with his own thrall to win her freedom. "What is today's lesson?" she asked, approaching him with an easy grace that she'd never quite lost after her capture.
"This one may be harder for you to manage," he cautioned her while mentally steeling himself. Although this lesson would be difficult for her, it would cost him much more than it cost her. He honestly wasn't looking forward to this, but it was necessary, if she was to succeed. "It will take hardening your heart, Isi."
She eyed him warily. Often he was almost jolly as he taught her, roaring encouragement, laughing as he dodged her strikes, and full of praise for what she'd done right. His trepidation made her slightly uneasy, not because she didn't trust him, but because she couldn't quite figure out what would cause him to act in such a way. "Oh? Then let's get on with it, before the light fades." It was a mild barb, but it had the desired effect. He shook his mane and gave her a snort of a laugh.
"Well then, so be it. Today you will learn to strike for the most damage possible." He gave her a challenging look, daring her to protest. "I want you doing everything you can to damage whatever part I tell you to," he instructed her. "You won't have to worry about fending off any counter-attacks this time, but I will be attempting to avoid or deflect your attacks. So be prepared to work hard in order to draw blood." He gave her a stern look, all seriousness. "And I do mean for you to truly try to do me harm. As much harm as you can manage."
Isi sucked a breath and held very still as he told her this. He was right, she wouldn't savor this at all. However, sometimes one had to cause some damage in order to do good for a wound... this was no different. She visibly stiffened, straightening her shoulders and firming her neck muscles. She could do this. And she could prove to him that she was indeed capable, that she would win her freedom. She might not go so far as to die trying, but she'd be willing to take some pretty severe injury in order to achieve that goal! If she was willing to accept the pain, then she should be willing to dole it out to him when he asked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been tough, climbing out of that cove with deep gouges to his inner thigh, as well as a heavily bleeding cut above one eye and serious teethmarks in one ear. She'd surprised him with that one, nearly getting her claws into his neck as instructed by attacking first with her fangs in his ear! She'd gotten a lot of praise for that one, but eventually had done enough damage that he'd had to call a halt or risk his ability to train and lead his warband the next day.
They now were in his den, with the sunlight nearly gone. Isi made a growling tsk sound as he sprawled and allowed her to examine the very wounds she'd given him. "You should have let me look at these back at the cove," she scolded, unafraid of being reprimanded for taking such a tone with her master. He wasn't that sort of lion, after all, and their working relationship had long ago done away with any sort of stilted formalities, especially in his den. "I only have enough light to deal with this one."
She poked the deepest of the scores on the tender skin of his inner thigh, and he let loose a coughing grunt of a growl. "So deal with it," he told her bluntly, "and stop making it worse!" She snorted a laugh and mimed a blow at his head with one paw opened wide.
"Ingrate. Hold still." She examined the edges of the wound, which were rough and jagged, but not terribly torn. That was good, it meant they'd mesh together quicker. But it needed cleaning first, for there was sand and some other kinds of debris in it from their sparring and the walk back. Completely professional as always, she thoroughly removed any material from inside the wound by licking it, rough tongue scraping what likely was painful flesh. Hroarr held still and silent, though. He was a trooper, one of the things she'd always admired about him. She didn't have to berate him for being a cub about his wounds, nor did she have to get physical to ensure he held still.
After the cleaning was done, she took a bit of fresh moss, which she laid across the worst of the wound. When it was arranged to her satisfaction, she took up her favorite means of wound treatment. It was a gourd of thick, fresh honey. It didn't work so well for youngsters who couldn't seem to keep from licking it off, but the honey did wonders to speed the healing process. She was thrifty with it, though, and only put on the minimal amount needed to keep the moss in place, ensuring she overlapped onto the fur her licking had roughed up. The last step, just as the sun's last rays disappeared, was to toss clean sand over the area, sealing the honey to the fur and moss both.
"There, you big lout," she said, swatting him affectionately on the shoulder. "All patched up. I trust the others just need a bit of cleaning to be fine?" The sky was darkening fast, but she had the impression of his large head nodding. "Good. Then you do that, and get some rest. You'll be fine tomorrow." She turned to leave, heading for the private den he provided for her. "And Hroarr? I don't want to do that too many more times. I think I'm getting too good at it." She left then, followed by his chuff of laughter.