It seems that either the elf child really has nothing to do, or is extremely attached to me, because every single time I go near the elven settlement, she is always there waiting for me. I felt a bit guilty every time I opted to not show up, but there’s only so much simple games I can play with her before I get bored.

She kept trying to make me play some physically active games, but after getting tired and deliberately flopping on the ground as if I couldn’t move a muscle anymore, she eventually stopped pestering me. I did occasionally accompany her, but given my sad lack of stamina, even when I did, it was extremely short.

She did bring some strange playing cards one time, but since I couldn’t read nor understand anything she was describing, it never went anywhere. We basically just played five in a row for the entire time, and when that got boring, we played six in a row. With all that extra experience, she got good enough that I no longer needed to throw any games, which actually made the game interesting. Too bad the little furballs back home didn’t care for these kinds of games.

The elf did try to teach me the language when we weren’t playing games, but other than the word that she said when vigorously gesturing to herself, which I assume was her name, it was hard guessing exactly what the word was referring to. To make it worse, I couldn’t even repeat what she said to verify, since apparently my mouth structure and vocal cords are physically unable to replicate elven speech.

---

I assumed these days would continue for a while, but one day, instead of being dropped off at the baby gatherings as usual, I was taken to another place where a rather large lupo was waiting for us.

The lupo scrutinized me and then asked my parents, “Hold up, I thought your daughter was three and a half years old. How come she looks like a scrawny two-year-old instead? Are you sure you want her to learn about hunting now?”

My mother replied, “She is three and a half. It’s just that she’s slower to develop. And even if she isn’t quite physically fit enough to hunt properly, no harm in trying. I mean how else is she going to get married if she never learns?”

“That’s true, my husband said he fell for me when I struck that deer right in the head from 288 paces away.” The lupo faced me and said, “I’m Beda, what’s your name?”

“Sofare.”

“The first thing I want you to do is run to that tree yonder, and run back as fast as possible. Ready, go!”

“What?”

“I said, RUN!”

I took off as fast as possible.

“I said to run as fast as you can!”

“But, I am,” I forced out.

“If you can talk to me, you clearly aren’t giving your all. Faster!”

Has Beda never heard of this thing called pacing yourself? I thought to myself as I ran.

By the time I came back, I was winded and collapsed on the floor with my tongue hanging out.

“Is Sofare acting, or is she really that weak?”

My mother replied, “She really is that weak.”

Beda sighed, and added, “So how is she even supposed to hunt if she can’t even keep up with the deer?”

“Well, if you never miss your initial spear throw…”

“I somehow doubt that she’d be good at throwing spears either. Well, okay then, Sofare, get up and grab a spear from the rack.”

I trudged over and picked a random spear, which was taller than I was, and was quite heavy.

How am I supposed to throw this thing? I thought. Please, give me a break already.

“Now I want you to throw, or at least try to throw, the spear at that tree over there.”

My arms trembled as I lifted the spear. I threw it with all my might, only for the spear to land about five meters in front of me, which was way off from the tree that was at least fifty meters away.

“Don’t just use your arm,” Beda barked. “Use your entire body! Lean back and shift your entire weight forward while throwing.”

Trying to follow her advice, I lifted the spear, leaned back — and promptly lost balance. My parents struggled to keep their laughter in, but just looking at their tails swinging around, I knew they were amused. Trying again, the spear did end up further, but still way short of the tree.

Beda walked off into the nearby tent, and while I was worried if she just gave up on teaching me, she came back with a shortish stick with a small protrusion on one end.

 

“This spear thrower is usually used for long distance throws, but you probably need to use this normally with your current strength.”

“How do I use that?”

Beda laid a spear on top of the spear thrower with the handle end resting on the protrusion end. “Just stick the spear on and throw,” she said as she launched the spear. “The main difference with using a spear thrower is you need to flick your wrist for the extra speed, but the basics are the same. Now try it. Also, given what I’ve seen, you are going to fail miserably. That’s okay. Practice makes perfect.”

Beda offered the spear thrower at me. I followed the instructions and threw the spear with all my might, only for the spear to jam itself in the dirt right in front of me.

“Your grip is awkward and you released the spear way too late. Now hold it like you did before. Okay, so you are supposed to hold it like this,” she said as she adjusted my hand position. “Now try it again.”

The spear crashed into the dirt again.

“If that keeps happening try aiming upward a bit more until it flies in the direction you want.”

When my parents came back to pick me up (I didn’t even notice when they left), I still haven’t gotten anywhere close to throwing the spear properly and my entire body was really sore, and I’m pretty sure I pulled a tendon in my arm somewhere.

When I complained about it to my parents, I was told I have to show up every other day and that I should start training anyways.

What kind of spartan training is this! I’m not even four years old yet!