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All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above...
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Chapter Fifty Nine: Retracing Her Steps...
It was five years before Greg left the cave.
Five years in which he was being taught how to walk. While he could walk from the very first moment he came into this vision, he couldn't walk the way obsidian earthmovers could. His mother would spend half her time outside the cave foraging for food. Both her own and some that she would bring to him. The other half, when they weren't resting was spent training. Her mother would walk around him in a circle, stop, and then look at him. Greg didn't know if being merged with the beast had made him stupider or if it was memory being a true reflection of how it had been with the real beast. However, it took a month for him to understand that when his mother stopped, he was supposed to mirror her actions by walking a full circle around her and coming to a stop where he started.
And if that wasn't bad enough, it took him almost a year to understand that this wasn't just a game, his mother was actually trying to teach him something. In sharp contrast, the large beast would walk around him, her steps quiet as a whisper. He, on the other hand, would sometimes walk, sometimes run around her like an excitable child, his footfalls echoing out in the large cave they were in. The difference didn't register in his mind until he'd already done it thousands of times. When it finally registered in his mind what his mother was trying to get him to do, then began four grueling years of trying to move the earth with his feet.
As someone who had seen the fearsome might of the obsidian earthmover, the last thing he'd ever have associated with the beast was patience. Those five years inside that cave, however, changed his mind. Not only was he slow to pick up on what his mother was trying to teach him, but even after he finally understood it, it took years for him to finally do the same. During that time, Greg sometimes grew frustrated and started throwing tantrums, refusing to cooperate, and running into the walls of the cave. Sometimes even into his poor mother. Given how much thicker her armor was compared to his, however, he probably hurt himself more than he did her. He, however, knew firsthand just how little it took to piss off such a creature.
Had his mother felt like it, she could have easily stomped him to death or gored him through with her impressive tusk. Whenever he got into such a nasty mood, however, all his mother would do was gently corral him until his side was pressed up against her front legs and her massive head gently resting on her other side. Even as a young creature, he understood the gesture to be the embrace that it was. And somehow, with the secret magic all mothers seemed to have, it always seemed to calm him down. With gentle encouragement from her, he would soon be back to trying to figure out how to get the earth under him to move the way he wanted it to.
The one thing his mother remained completely firm about was the fact that Greg wasn't allowed outside of the cave. It was a mercy that his mother could simply move the earth to bury all their waste otherwise the place would have become intolerable pretty fast. Both out of curiosity and boredom, Greg had on many occasions tried to leave but had always been rebuffed. If his mother was present, she would just push him back inside the cave. Whenever she left to go get food she would cause small sharp spikes to grow all over the floor around the cave entrance. Spikes that his armor was not yet thick enough to overcome. It wasn't until his third year inside the cave that it clicked inside his mind that if he learned to walk like his mother did, the spikes wouldn't be a problem. She was making it so he equated knowing how to move with freedom.
In his fifth year, it finally clicked in Greg's mind what he was missing. And when it did, he also understood why his mother had to keep him confined to the cave. Starting in his fourth year, he started lying on the cave floor unmoving for long periods. After years inside a small empty cave, there was only so much exploration, prancing around, and playing that one could do. There was a small depression on the floor where he usually slept. It had formed as a result of his stony skin grinding away at the stone under him. It was in this small crook that he would quietly spend most of his day. It's a good thing his mother would insist that they play the circling-each-other game whenever she was around otherwise he would have just laid there until his muscles atrophied and he went into catatonia.
It was only after a year of lying on the ground that he felt the connection he had to it. The way he learned of the connection wasn't all that glamorous but it worked all the same. His mother walked into the cave using her earth manipulation abilities to drag a tree behind her whose leaves Greg loved to chew on. Over the months of lying in his little crook, however, Greg had come to love just sitting there on the floor in constant contact with the earth under him. Not even the temptation of the leaves made him want to move. His mother, however, would have none of it. He wasn't going to starve on her watch. She would keep nudging him with her nose until eventually Greg gave in.
On this particular day, Greg was feeling particularly attached to his small patch of dirt and didn't want to be moved. His mother, however, was relentless, and eventually, he had no choice but to give in. Feeling a bit resentful and unwilling to lose any more contact with the earth than he had to, Greg dragged his feet all the way over to where the tree was. Much to his surprise, however, his mother started to bellow and snort in the particular way she always did when she was happy. She also started running circles around him. Although confused at first, he was eventually swept up in his mother's joy and started running circles around her. It wasn't until they had been at this for a while that he picked up on the fact that the only sounds he could hear were the vocal sounds they were making. Looking down, he realized that all this time, the earth had been moving under him whenever he moved. He hadn't dragged his feet over to the tree, he had gotten the earth to move with him.
That was the first time he felt his connection to the earth below him and it was the starkest realization he ever had up to that point in his life. Rather than forcing it to do his bidding, Greg only had to communicate his intent to the earth below him through their connection. Rather than tell it to rise when he wanted to take a step, he only had to ask it to take a step with him. They weren't two antagonistic forces but rather, two parts of a duet in a dance with each other. When he moved, so long as he was clear in his intent, the earth would move with him. When he took a step, it did too. It was a weak and tenuous connection at first and if his mother hadn't confined him to that empty and bland cave, he probably would never have found it. Boring and sometimes frustrating as it was, being forced to stay in one place surrounded by nothing but stone for close to five years is what eventually allowed him to connect to the element in a way that he otherwise never would have...
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Alena opened her eyes when she felt someone enter the cave. Turning her head towards the side of the cave where the teleportation room was hidden behind a wall, she watched as the form of her student, Roka, walked through the wall and into the cave. But while it was his form, she knew that it wasn't the real Roka. The real Roka was still seated cross-legged just a few feet away from her holding the obsidian earthmover's beast-core. As such, there was no surprise on her face as she watched the Roka that had just walked in slowly morph back into the form of the familiar.
"I've told his mother and sister that he'll be busy with you for a few days and that they shouldn't worry," she stated.