Flight of the Warrior Chapter 2- Seeking the connection

It had been months. She had visited her heart place many times and honed her sword skills. She felt strong but yet there seemed so much she did not know and this made her uneasy. The uneasiness made her train harder.

She had overheard some elders talk of the old ways, clinging to a wall like a spy in a backstreet hungry for information. She had come to understand some of  the theory by listening to these conversations but that was a poor substitute and she knew it. Japan was a dangerous place for a woman who did not have the protection of the local Daimyo. She knew that living at her father's farm was tolerated for now but this could change. If she was to protect herself she would need more than just her jian. She would need to understand the messages carried on the wind, in fire, by the earth and on the water.

At times she felt close to a breakthrough.

The first time was in the clearing, she had fallen roughly after overbalancing during practice. Embarrassed she had spent a moment laying on the ground nursing her twisted ankle, her left hand partially buried in the dead leaves that had fallen in preparation for winter. In that moment, chastising herself for her personal weakness, she had felt a tremour through the earth. It seemed to move toward her hand growing in intensity. It took only a second to reach her fingertips. She had jerked her hand away in surprise and instantly regretted it. Two mistakes in the passage of minutes, both costly. Pride bruised and a learning opportunity wasted. She rose hastily and limping slightly moved to collect her things for the return journey, just as a large bough of the tree broke off and fell where she had been sitting. She stared at it, her mouth open in surprise. It was the width of her torso and would have done her great damage.

She had been told by her mother, before she left on her final pilgrimmage back to the Netherlands that when she was ready she would be able to feel things, see things, know things that would help her. She had questioned her mother, did she mean the five senses? Did she mean intuition? She had smiled in the half light, touched her lightly on the cheek and turned briskly toward the gangplank and boarded the sailing ship. She had not heard from her mother since, but had written her countless letters. Local sailors thought the ship had foundered in a storm, but she was not yet ready to entertain she was alone in the world.

Then again it had happened. She was planting some herbs in her garden, her back to the wind. Bent over the patch of earth she had prepared she felt a push on her right side as if the wind had whipped up at that precise moment and spent itself to spin her round. Then it was gone. She responded slowly, feeling pins and needles down her arms into her hands. The first sign of fear. She turned in time to see a band of cloud rise up over a ridge line full of menace and electricity. It was racing as if it knew it could not last long. Heavy rain fell on the ridge behind her, as the cloud unloaded to get over the mountain. Claps of thunder booming all around her. She had run inside. Looking through the shutter, watching the progress of the storm.The air was full of electricity and her hair stood on end.

There had been a couple of times. Much like the storm, she had not understood what the warning was until the moments unfolded. Then afterwards she could see the connection.

What she needed to do was tap into the message. For the message would always be a warning. At least that is what she thought. It would help her, give her an advantage when fighting. She would need it. She had learned once before the hard way that some possessed a strength far superior to hers. She would need other arsenal in addition to her mastery of the jian.

There was a time when she trusted the sword would be enough. She laughed bitterly at her own stupidity. At least that ignorance had not cost her life.

She was susceptible to stubborness, to making the same mistake over and over as if stuck in mud, knowing that if she struggled it will exhaust her and pull her further down, but unable to stop trying or change course. Her pride unable to accept that she had chosen poorly, again.

She repeated to herself, like a mantra, I must not make the same mistake. At least she hoped she would not.