The morning came soon enough and Zane was woken to a prodding. The sun was still over the horizon and the sky was a grey, everything still bathed in gloom. Dawn was around the corner, but that apparently didn't matter to Grayell.
Wake up. Nine hundred and fifty left. I will worry about breakfast.
Zane groans and pulls himself out of his 'shelter'. Rubbing his eyes, he goes and finds the stick, and after some stretches, begins to spin it some more
"This damned thing will be the end of me, I swear..."
I took about 3 hours, but Grayell returned with a rabbit and some fruit. He dropped the rabbit by the dwindling fire and took a seat. He makes quick work of it with his knife. As he works, he looks over to Zane.
Zane looks over to Grayell, brow sweaty, and arms hurting
"Well I took a break a while back, but I'd say that in total, I'm up to about 125. It goes quicker once you get into the swing of things, and practice makes perfect as they say."
Grayell nods. He manages to rig the rabbit onto a spit and once it is done cooking, he breaks it down into portions. There was enough fruit for the two of them.
Eat. You'll need to hydrate too, there's a stream over yonder. Your arms will do better whilst warm but you will hit a wall. Keep at it though.
Zane takes his portion of meat and rabbit and begins to eat, stopping before he was completely full, so as to not over-stuff himself. Wrapping the remains in a few clean leaves, he makes his way to the stream, where he bends down and drinks deeply of the water. After drinking his fill, he returns and goes back to the stick, working on reaching the far off goal of 1000 rounds.
Grayell walks to Zane and pats him on the shoulder. He takes the stick from him with a smile. He then unties the parcel of rocks... and then reties it to the stick - now half way between where he grips it and the end.
Now you work harder. 1000 more. Keep hydrated though, seems it's getting warmer out here. I'll leave you to it.
Graihl returns to his seat by the fire, where he goes back to carving a branch he had collected the day before.
Zane looks at the stick, and his eyes twitches a bit
"I... I... Flarb."
He goes to the river and drinks some water, preparing himself for another few days of pain. When he's full, he goes back, and takes up the stick, muscles protesting in anger
Zane had resigned himself to the workload and there was little communication between the student and teacher. Grayell kept himself busy lounging about camp, or procuring minimal food for them both.
He was kind enough to pile more debris on Zane's poor shelter and built him a reflector to help with heat retention from the fire. His concern was not Zane's comfort but he did intend for Zane to focus solely on his exercise.
Time passed, long arduous days for Zane. More circles. His arms would be numb, but muscle memory was forming and he ran on autopilot.
Zane spins the stick around his head, barely even conscious of the motion anymore. He numbly realizes that he's quite close to the goal, but had stopped counting hundreds of spins ago. With a large amount of effort, he stops spinning the stick and puts it down, looking to Grayell.
"Err, I just realized I forgot to keep counting. I think I've passed the mark though, if memory serves... At least, it feels like I have..."
Grayell frowns. He looks back to a long piece of thin bamboo he is working with and says nothing for a moment. He then puts it down and stares at the fire.
His own teacher gave no ground. He was harder than Grayell was being now. But his training worked. Grayell could not be too lax either. The words came slow, deliberate - and anticipated protest.
Your mind must remain clear if you are to ever act. Distractions, thoughts or even absent mindedness will see you killed.
A couple more days float by, Zane still focused on the task at hand. Grayell had shifted a large log by the fire, a comfortable enough seat for Zane to sit on in the times he wasn't circling the weight. Grayell had also taken the liberty of lining the floor of Zane's shelter with a thick moss, making it both warmer and more comfortable.
He'd kept water on the boil at most times, and there was always a cup of tea waiting for him when he took a break. Their diet consisted of small game, fruits and nuts and a few other greens; but Zane could tell he was losing weight.
The exercise became repetitive, it required little thought - but his arms were numb when he went to sleep and almost on fire when he awoke. They still spoke little.
Again, Zane was done as he counted down the last few turns.