The next morning, at precisely 6:55, a almost deafening blast of sound filled the barracks followed by the artificially amplified voice of Nereal, "Alright brothers and sisters in arms it is time to rise and have an hour of pre-breakfast exercise before ... you work it out. I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that your comrades who did not succeed the race have been improving themselves with five hours of exercise already this morning. Except for Infantry-woman Rerael - it was decided that she needed a little more practise finding her way home." The voice ended. What they didn't know that Rerael had been found over twenty miles away from the installation close to tears after getting well and truly lost. After comforting her a little Nerael had given her a weeks works of supplies in a backpack and dropped her three days away by foot from the installation.
Outside in the courtyard thirty Elysian Infantry men and women were doing press ups and looking truly exhausted. Having between six and four hours sleep followed by five hours of exercise with knowledge that there would be another hour to come - and all of this after a twenty mile run - such a reaction was to be expected.
"I think we'll start with fifty star-jumps. And match the same speed as everyone else." Nerael called from where he was working out with everyone else - as he had been doing for the last five hours.
-
Schuyler rolled, quite literally out of bed, before getting dressed and ready for formation outside. He didnt necessarily mind the work, but he was still dog tired from the other day.
He still didnt intend to give anything up to this man however, he would do all that was asked and more.
-
After the fifty star-jumps there were thirty sit-ups, then fifty split jumps, then ten minutes of stretching, then sixty scissor kicks and then another ten minutes of an exercise that looked something like Tai Chi (if any of them had had any idea of what that had) - done through emulation of the actions of Nereal. Twenty press ups finished the first half hour of exercise.
Throughout this Nerael enforced his rule of everyone going at the same speed through shouts and threats - while himself keeping up with the exercises perfectly. And noting who would be requiring extra exercise of course.
-
Schuyler thought for a second between exercises about what this would do for all of them. Yeah it would make them stronger, but a weight room would do that even better. Or a hard day in the field.
Either way, these exercises weren’t terribly hard, they were just a cardio type exercise, and they had just done 25 miles the day before.
-
After another twenty minutes of generic, gruelling and co-ordinated exercises Nerael paused at the apex of his push-up and yelled at his cadets, "And now for something a little special for the last ten minutes."
With a grunt he moved himself smoothly into a handstand position and began to do vertical unsupported push-ups - looking around to ensure that everyone else at least tried. And of course making a mental note of those who didn't and those who failed. He wasn't entirely certain which was worse.
After thirty minutes he left himself in fully extended handstand form - legs straight up in the air, as poised as any gymnast and yelled (again) at the soldiers, "Alright, before breakfast you're going to need to clean yourselves up. Go get showered. Any funny business and I'll show you my comedian act."
The showers were adjacent to the barracks and consisted of a single large communal showering area - there was no segregation between men and women given Elysia's rather lax morals over nudity. The walls had nozzles on them which sprayed hot water with soap already added.
-
Schuyler attempted, failed, and continued to attempt to perform a decent hand stand. He had the strength, that wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that he didn’t have the balance to be upside down like that. He never did it as a kid, so it was pretty much a new concept to him.
He couldn’t help but notice how good looking some of the female recruits were without their clothing. He did remember what Nereal had said though, and made no attempt at any of them.
He finished his shower quickly, and dressed in the proper uniform before heading out towards the cafeteria. Any food was welcomed at this point. His stomach had started to think his throat had been cut.
-
In the mess Nerael was seated - looking immacualte and dry in his uniform which was pristine. Most of the other inhabitants of the facilities were already seated, eating and talking quietly. He didn't allow anyone to queue up for their food until everyone had arrived - back handed to the floor one cadet that tried - and then sent another in to force everyone out of the showers with the warning that Nerael would be in soon if they didn't hurry.
When everyone did arrive Nerael barked at them, "The food we serve here is not your average civilian food. it is specially processed to contain high levels of carbohydrates, proteins, amino-acids, glutamine, casomorphin, calcium alpha-ketoglutarate, conjugated linoleic acid and the full range of vitamins. You've also got Calcium, Chlorine, Magnesium, Phosphorus, Potassium, Sodium and sulfur, Chromium, Cobalat, Copper, Flurine, Iodine, Iron, Manganese, Molbybdenum, Selenium, Nickel and Zinc - all in digestible forms. In addition to this we have some low grade anabolic steroids and chemical messengers to convince your brain it is the finest thing you've ever tasted. Do not have second portions. The foods tried and tested and - with the right training - will help you become true soldiers. Just don't become like a Nepleslian Body-builder on me or I will personally break your neck. You will not become muscle-bound. Got it?"
There was a shout of affirmation as Nerael glowered at them.
The mess system worked simply as the soldier would go up to the servers (who were on rotation) behind their counters who would give them a slab of the food - which was in composition much like brownie's. Their were knives at the end of the line - no forks.
Today the food tasted similar to roast beef. Sublime roast beef.
-
The food was surprisingly good, but not very filling.
It did however make him feel better again, as some of the chemical compounds and enzymes ran rampant through his body trying to replenish some of the many deficiencies Schuyler's body had accumulated.
Schuyler didnt plan on becoming muscle bound, but he was by no means the smallest person there. He figured the stronger he was, the better, regardless of size. He wasnt too concerned though, It didnt look like he would be getting very large with the amoutn of exercise they were doing.
He finished rather quickly, and wished that he could go and get seconds...but he remembered Nerael's warning, so he stayed put. He instead sat and wondered what the next challenge would be.
-
________________________________________
As the last recruit finished his meal, a tall, lanky Elysian woman - her build and wings made it somewhat difficult to determine if she was Plebeian and Patrician; she might have been a particularly well-built Plebeian, or a smaller-than-normal Patrician. It actually mattered very little. She was dressed in a la'khas, cerulean blue in coloration, with white sok'h'tohs about her shoulders. At the right hip, there was a hippeis xiphos, which perhaps gave hint to her particular species...
...but not enough to be sure. She spared a moment to whisper a comment to Nereal, then addressed the recruits.
"Look sharp, younglings. I am Hikael, and I will be your instructor in aspis, xiphos, and phaelaes." She waited for the recruits to arrange themselves, narrowing her eyes sharply at the stragglers (a backward comment to Nereal "...they've a long way to go..."), then speaking to them again. "Today we will begin study of the basic motions and defensive maneuvers of the peltast xiphos. We will begin in four minutes. Please assemble yourselves outside."
As the recruits scrambled off, she spared a moment to speak with Nereal. "How are they? Do we have promising ones? Stragglers?"
-
"None which show any promise so far - none that could keep up with me on a leisurely 20 mile run, and none that could manage a simple ten minutes of vertical press ups. Their are no obvious trouble makers - except for one who's a little too fond of being related to a human," Nerael pointed at Schuyler, "As for stragglers, thirty of them didn't finish the run in near decent time, and one is currently on relocation punishment for being hideously lost."
Nerael paused for a moment before speaking in a rather manner of fact manner, "You wouldn't mind if I came along with the session would you? I'd never miss an opportunity to be tutored by the great Hikael." He grinned wickedly, although he was only half joking.
-
"Well, Nerael. It was their first day. The ones who failed to complete the run in time, certainly, must be dealt with. And one who failed to find her way back should probably be dropped without food or water twenty miles from camp and given a faulty compass."
A light grin. "But the ones who managed, at least, to finish in reasonable time frames clearly can be expected to show some fascinating physical prowess."
She waited a full four minutes before making for the outside. If any slacking recruit had failed to fall into order, he had just volunteered himself for a good bit of public humiliation. If noone did, well... the one who had such pride in his tainting humanity could volunteer.
"Come if you will, Nerael. It can't hurt to have a second hand that actually know what end of the blade to hold."
-
As Schuyler walked past this newcomer and Nereal he caught small snippets of the conversation. "None show promise..." "Too fond of being related to a human..."
That was about all he could catch through the noise, before he made it to the outside. He lined up, and did so correctly, he knew what happened if you screwed up in front of Nereal, and he imagined that this new person would be about the same.
He would show Nereal his worth, and he would do it with pride in who he was. There was nothing that would change that simple fact. He liked being who he was, and didnt want to be anyone else.
-
Hikael strode out to inspect the lined recruits, and found no glaring errors in their lineup. Shortly after she arrived, a subdued-looking pair of Plebieans rolled out a rack of short wooden blades balanced and crafted to replicate the peltast xiphos. This was positioned some ten feet off from the recruits, and Hikael stood forward to address them.
"In modern combat, some would say there is no use to the arts of xiphos and phaelaes. That, younglings, is because they have never once actually seen an Elysian fight. Indeed, one would also assume one who said that had never seen a Yamataian fight, they as well demonstrate remarkable prowess with blades." She crossed her arms. "Today, we learn simple defensive manoeuvres with a simple infantry blade, and if you prove to be a talented class, we learn as well simple offensive manoeuvres. I assure you, I will be patient and forgiving of mistakes. And I assure you as well, when I've finished with you, every one of you will be able to stand toe to toe with a Ketsurui samurai, and live to tell the tale."
She stepped off to the rack, hefted a pair of the wooden swords, turned back to the class. "Aetius. If you would aid me in my first demonstration..." She tossed him the blade lightly. She didn't even wait for him to catch - or not catch - the weapon. "Attack me. Try to break my guard."
-
Schuyler grabbed the blade from the air, making sure to catch the "grip" on it.
He knew that he would probably be best off if he didnt just act like a humptysquat retard and try to bash her over the head. It probably wouldnt work, and it would leave him very exposed for her to beat the crap out of him.
He decided to try and feint in and hit some of the different angles that he saw. Obviously with a bladed weapon, you wanted to do some damage to either disable or severly injure the other person. That meant ankles, chest and abdomen, head and neck. Arm wounds would not be such a great blow, but legs would immobilize.
He swept the blade low, lunging slightly but keeping on his toes so that he could evade, or attempt to evade the follow up strike.
Schuyler had horsed around when he was younger of course, using sticks and the like as swords on the farm. He knew that if you exposed yourself, or that if you let your self become unguarded in a particular spot, it was very easy to find and exploit that weakness. It was however very long ago for him, and he was far out of practice. He knew he would be nursing a few bruises later, but hoped to keep that number low.
-
Watched Schuyler's motions idly, not moving until his blade was nearly upon her, and then....
CRACK!
The wooden dowel swung in a rapid arc to strike the underside of his wrist, connecting with the hilt of his blade and sending vicious vibrations through hand and 'sword'. She looked thoroughly unimpressed, though that was her usual look when teaching people. Hikael had been denied the right to active duty as she was more valuable teaching; and she cursed her talent endlessly because of this.
But then, smiled at Schuyler's failed attack. "Ah, I like you, Aetius. Put a bit of thought into your assault. Most recruits get some ill-conceived idea to try to disarm me."
She motioned for him to step back a bit. "Now, your footwork betrayed everything. When one makes a lunge like that, the hips can tell you where they'll go. If, as was the case with Aetius - they do no use their hips to guide the blow, they will be easily reprimanded with a simple pivoting motion. Strike at me again, Aetius. This time don't lunge - step. Pivot. Don't ever put yourself off-centre."
-
Schuyler winced in pain, that had hurt, and not just a little. It hurt one hell of a great deal. He managed to hang on to the sword, but just barely.
He stepped back as told, and then when she was finished explaining what she wanted him to do, followed the command.
He stepped forward rather deliberately, feinting quickly for a chest blow, before changing his attack completely with his elbow, and bringing it around for a knee strike. His left hand was up at his chest, ready to help counter, or catch, a blow.
He had a foreboding feeling, mostly in his wrist as he did this, but it was inevitable that he would get hit again.
-
Hikael caught the wooden dowel with a backward stroke, knocking the blade's course outward, leaving his torso quite open. She did not offer a reprimanding strike this time, however, deeming that he had caught on to the basic premise quickly enough as to render it unnecessary. She smiled, lowered the blade.
"Very good. I may see Aetius again for officer training." She directed him again to draw back, addressing the assembled recruits. "Pair off. I'll be demonstrating maneuvers with Aetius; you will practice these maneuvers. Once we have finished demonstration, I will inspect your form. If I find that you are failing to comprehend these very basic techniques, I will turn you over for private training with Nerael, as a remedial environment for swordplay and a tongue like molten steel will do you more good than merely watching me."
She then proceeded to demonstrate more concrete maneuvers with Aetius, correcting his methods, especially his footwork, constantly ("...the blade isn't your weapon, it is simply an extension to your arm. Rely on your shuffle, not your reach..."). She began with a set of basic offensive maneuvers - twelve, all told - and another twelve basic defensive maneuvers to counter them.
And she set the assembled recruits to practice...
-
While Schuyler enjoyed the compliment, he knew that it would not be easy, and the if he slacked off at all, he might as well roll over and play dead. He stepped backwards again, and readied himself to demonstrate with Hikael.
He winced slightly at the thought of what Nereal would do, if a recruit were sent to him.
Schuyler attempted to pay attention to everything that Hikael was telling him, but having been used to bad habits, it was hard for him to change what he was doing. He continued to check himself in the act of an attempted attack, or defense for something he might be doing wrong, and slowly noticed that he was making fewer mistakes.
-
Hikael continued the rather harsh, relentless drilling for nearly six hours before allowing the recruits a moment's respite. During this time, she spent some twenty minutes offering personal aid to a few of the recruits she deemed to be lagging (personal aid seemed to involve a good bit of cracking and bruising - Hikael had learned through pain, and so too would her students). This gave some time to rest for the rest, before she called them to order again.
"By and large, I am happy with your progress. However, I have you for another four hours, and we will move a bit further on in this lesson than I originally intended. Aetius, if you would join me again, please..." She lowered her blade. "...we will learn a few more specialized maneuvers - counters, in volta form. Attempt a strike on me, please, Aetius - first, fifth, or seventh form, whichever you feel strongest with."
She set a foot back into a gently balanced stance, preparing to demonstrate the first of the voltas.
-
Schuyler chose a light stance, swaying lightly to balance his weight. He stepped forward quickly, using a lightning fast upward strike directed at the chest.
He chose this attack because he could easily just twist his body and bring the blade back down on the opposite side of her body, allowing for a very fast follow up with a very small degree of himself exposed while he did so.
He was intent on learning, but more importantly, he wanted to be the best. He still had something to prove to Nereal, to Hikeal, and to most, if not all of the recruits. He may be the proverbial half breed, but that did not mean he was weaker. That is exactly what he planned to prove to them all.
-
Hikael gave a slight grin at his assault - a seventh-form forward upstroke. Her reaction was quick, pivoting; the blade striking by her side and her not offering even the split moment he would need to make his own twist - his forward step used for the time to slide about, she allowed the blade to connect - very lightly- at region of his collar-bone as she spun past. The edge, in her spinning, would slide along that region, never breaking contact, finishing with point to the side of his neck.
"...as we can see, the first-form volta is a simple and effective way to deal with a direct forward stroke. There is, of course, risk involved - an opponent can lure you to such a maneuver and skewer you outright. However, you will learn to read footwork, and understand when and how to use such techniques..." She lowered the blade. "Excellent, Aetius. You show remarkable improvement. If you'll bear with me, three more to demonstrate..."
She went through the demonstrations of the next three volta techniques, second form for use against sidestepping, third for strikes beneath the waist, and the fourth - Hikael's favorite - for eliminating the sword-arm. She was firm in her reprimand of Aetius' every mistake... but there was a certain gleam to her eyes as she gave the instruction.
And as she finished the demonstrations, she commented again, "...Aetius, how would you feel about the proposition of a bit of extra blade training? Extra hours, after regular training..."
Once he responded, she would direct him back to his sparring partner, a lanky Plebeian who was quick, but relatively slow learning.
-
Schuyler thought for a moment, wondering whether he should accept, and what exactly they would cover during the extra training, she had already shown them everything they could possibly learn...hadn’t she? He figured he might as well, there was nothing else for him to do anyway.
"I think I would rather enjoy that," he said, with just a hint of apprehension in his voice.
He still couldn’t help but wonder what else she could even teach him...but if she was offering him an extra edge, he wasn’t about to turn it down.
-
"Good. I'll cover forms forty-five through sixty with you, these aren't typically instructed with fresh recruits. Back to your partner, then."
She watched the next four hours pass as the recruits practiced their voltas, several winding up with black eyes, bruised collarbones, and some broken skin. One unlucky cadet managed to get his rib fractured when he misread his attacker, and stepped sidelong into a weighted stroke. Kalael immediately prescribed said unfortunate to remedial training with Nerael...
Then called the recruits to attention, at day's end. "I will be instructing you three days of every week, in Xiphos and Phaelaes. Next session - day after tomorrow - we will begin incorporating the Aspis to the peltast-xiphos combat style. You WILL all show improvement by the day after tomorrow, or you will spend time in remedial training with Nerael. Are we clear?"
Waiting for a response, she offered the term... "...dismissed."
...to end the day.
-
Evenael did as he was told the entire time. When the subject of sword fighting came up he gave a bit of a smile. He watched as Schuyler demonstrated with Hikael. When it was time to have a go at his own partner, Evenael searched his previous knowledge from when he'd been under the service of his master of late. He threw in a few tricks here and there he'd seen his master use and ended up landing more blows on his sparring partner then the poor plebeian could readily block.
When it came time to stop Evenael was slick with sweat and nearly out of breath, but grinning. He over heard Hikael asking Schuyler if he wanted privet training time and snorted softly. He dismissed it with a ruffling of his feathers. He turned his entire body to face Hikael as she talked and gave a light nod. When she told them they were dismissed he smiled again to himself and then gave his blade a little twirl and then put it away, already knowing how it was done. He walked a bit away and stretched his aching muscles.
Waiting for something else to happed, weather that be supper or straight to bed he took the time to stretch his wings straight out, not quite realizing he was probably showing off. After a brief fanning of his wings to cool himself off a bit he folded them and looked over at Nerael wanting orders of some kind to follow.
-
By this stage of the preceedings Nerael was grinning widely. The Xiphos was not his weapon of choice - being a Pankration fighter he preffered his body - but he had enjoyed the last ten hours greatly. Not only had they provided him with a good work out - albiet not as much as he'd normally do, he'd likely be up later tonight making up for it - but also for a chance to spar and get the measure of his cadets. By and large they were doing fairly well. Fairly well.
He now took center stage, "Go to the mess and have dinner. Afterwards we will meet in the court-yard for pre-nocturnal exercises. You have done relatively well so it will be fairly simple. Understood?"
Not waiting for a response Nerael walked over to the cadet who had been foolish enough to have his rib broken and forced marched him to the medical bay.
The medical bay was two buildings away from the barracks and much the same size - in consisted on multiple beds and regeneration tubes, and was pristine and ... somewhat sterile. One of the medics treated the cadet with a splint and an injection of stem-cells. Nerael did not want him healing too quickly. As an immediate variety of remedial punishment was the attaching of light weights to his ankles, wrists and midsection.
-
Finaly getting orders he turned and stalked off for the mess hall. Evenael ate his dinner in silence and then left for the court-yard. Feeling somewhat better by his enriched dinner he stood there looking up into the sky, drifting off. He fanned his wings, flying was something he thought of everyway, but knew he would always fail to achieve.
With a growl he turned aside his thoughts and did a quick stretch before anyone else showed up. He turned his mind to another challenge, the free standing press ups. He studied a wall intensely trying to figure it out. Maybe his wings would come in handy after all. If he could find a place where he could spread them in the appropriate way he'd be able to keep his balance and work solely on the press ups. It couldn't be that hard could it?
Well first off he'd have to get the handstanding perfected. Still no one was around that he could see so he rocked forward and work himself up into a handstand and immediately fell over on his backside with a grunt. Dragging himself to his feet he tried it again, this time getting inventive and spreading his wings tilting them back towards his stomach. He managed to hold himself up right for a few seconds before falling over again. This time he rolled when he hit the ground and got right back up onto his feet, still trying to work out how Nerael did it.
-
Schuyler walked towards the mess hall when they were dismissed. He rather enjoyed the food, there just wasnt enough to really fill him up. So far that was his one and only complaint. Everything else he was dealing with rather well so far. He finished up fairly quickly, since he was thinking of other things, and headed for the door.
He went towards the assembly area, and noticed that someone was already there, working rather hard on trying to do a free standing press up.
Schuyler understood the mechanics of it, but he couldnt for the life of him do it. The problem for him, was probably the same as this recruit. He couldnt get the balance to hold the hand stand, let alone do a press at the same time.
He wondered, while watching this recruit what he would have to do to hold his balance. Obviously it was a matter of where your torso and hands were, in reference to your legs. If everything was vertical, or to the point where it counter balanced itself, you were fine. As soon as you broke vertical, you were pretty much done.
He decided to try something, and went into a handstand of his own. He arched his back, letting his legs drop away from his body slightly, and pressed his chest past his arms looking up towards the sky. At this point, he was fairly well balanced, but unsteady in that he wasnt used to it, and promtly fell on his ass. But it worked. Now if only he could get a press in there, he could probably work up to the point where he could do it on command. Seeing that he had tested his theory though, he would wait for Nereal to come. He knew what type of exercises they did. And creative or not, they were still enough to drain you, especially after a long day.
-
And arrive Nerael did, with the unfortunate cadet who was being punished being driven on in front of him. Nerael noticed the activities of two cadets trying to master the vertical handstand and rewarded them with a brief nod. Then he concentrated on forcing the remedial cadet to do press ups, with the additional weights attached to him, until all the rest of the cadets arrived.
Once they did he spoke, "You have worked relatively hard today, and taking into account your activities yesterday I shall go lightly on you now. First we stretch and then forty laps of the courtyard, and you will stay together. If anyone falls behind then everyone is punished, if you go too slowly everyone is punished. Understood? Good. Afterwards you can go to bed. We're up crack of dawn tomorrow."
Nerael finished speaking and began to warm up with long stretches followed by what seemed to be a variety of boxing practises. After the warming up he led the forty laps.
-
He stood silently when Nerael appeared and watched and then did the stretches as he was told. When it was time to run laps he folded his wings tightly against his back and got on with it. By the time the forty laps were over he was tired. He held his dignity and refused to show that he was panting. He blinked and then did a quick after stretch to keep his muscles from hurting the next morning and made for a barracks and his bed.
As he walked he stretched his wings, using every muscle he could. He had a plan, an ambition and he'd make it come true eventually. He folded his wings again as he slipped into the barracks and then stretched once more before crawling into his bunk and laying on his stomach. He buried his head into his pillow and then, relaxed, his wings spreading just a bit, the longest of the flight feathers just barely touching the floor. He passed out seconds later, but wasn't quite destined to sleep peacefully.
-
Schuyler, still thinking to himself that he had something to prove, and be damned if he didnt, ran at the back, encouraging and pushing the straglers that were starting to fall behind.
He kept the line tight, and sacrificed personal effort, for team effort. He knew very well what would happen, and what Nereal would say, if someone were to fall behind.
When the run was finished, he headed towards the barracks, strolling slightly. He knew he was good, he knew he was fit, and he knew he was sore. What he wasnt trying to show anyone was the last part. The more weakness he showed, the more he would be looked down on. "Unable to take his share" came to mind, and the thought brought back old memories, rather vividly.
He came to his bunk, and stripped down to skivvies. He didnt sleep in the nude for one reason. It wasnt that he didnt like it, it was that if something were to happen on a farm in the middle of the night, someone had to go fix it. Depending on how bad it went wrong, or what exactly it was, you needed more than one someone. He learned, the "hard" way if you will, that pants and genitalia do not mix. Since that day, he wore underwear to bed, since it tucked everything out of the way. He figured that it was the military, in a combat situation, things may be the same way. If something went wrong, very fast, he would rather be slightly uncomfortable sleeping, than when he was pulling on his pants.
He lay down on his bunk, pulling the sheets slightly closer around him, and started to drift off, almost immediately.
-
He slept quietly for a few hours before the dream hit him.
Standing atop none other than the barracks, he looked at the ground far below. How he got up there was a mystery, but why he was up there was obvious. Swallowing hard He back off and then ran forwards and then he was falling down through the coulds, wind whistling past him. His wings snapped open and caught air. He pushed hard lofting himself back up into the air and soaring through the skies
His wings quivered a bit in a gentle up and down motion, sub-consciously he adjusted his feathers and then re adjusted them according to his dream. For once he actually looked quite happy.
Soaring through the skies he was free. He tucked his wings and dove. He snapped his wings open before he came too close to the ground and glided along over a crystalline lake. All too soon the lake turned dark and black tendrils snapped out of the waters going for him. He gave a loud cry as the tendrils wrapped about him and dragged him out of the air and into the icy waters. He fought against an unseen enemy and continued struggling until he felt his head hit something hard.
He sat up and looked around and became aware of the concrete floor of the barracks beneath him. He had cried out during his dream and another look revealed several sleepy people glaring at him. "Sorry..." He said softly and slid back into his bed. He was slick with sweat and panting. With a look around he finally striped off his shirt and fell asleep again, the small wound on the back of his head staining his pillow red.
