Dr. Petrov really annoyed me today. We were making our way through a forest -- just me, Dr. Petrov, and Steele were just having a fun hike. It was honestly great! We shared a funny moment together because we came upon a river, and I really didn’t want my socks to get wet, so Steele carried me on his back.
But after we passed the water, Dr. Petrov heard something. He put an arm in front of me and Steele and said “Stop.” Steele and I were ready for battle, we looked so cool!! I drew my casting crystal and he drew his sword.
But Dr. Petrov listened for a minute. He gave Steele a weird look, and went forward. Steele picked me up and put me by a tree.
“Stay here,” he said.
The two ran forward. I was left at the tree, uncertain of how to react. I have read books and studied and trained, but they stuck me away as they ran to whatever monster was ahead. I could feel my ears turn red when I heard their swords clashing against metal and bone. My own words plagued my mind -- wasn’t I good enough to fight too? My embarrassment turned to fury. I studied and trained to fight, I am skilled, and I am the son of the fearless soldier Vanderbilt Tolstoy.
I marched towards the sound of carnage. By the time I saw them through the tree line, they had finished. Blood streaked across their armor, and marked their faces. Zombie bodies surrounded them on the ground. Steele saw me first.
“Finch! Come help me search these bodies,” he said. I glared at Dr. Petrov, who turned to me surprisedly.
“Finch, Steele told you to stay back,” he growled. I crossed my arms.
“I am capable of fighting too,” I replied. He replaced his sword in its sheath, frustrated.
“If you are a soldier, you follow orders,” he spat, “Don’t forget, you are frail.”
Steele put a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back. I felt my blood boil, my eyes turned warm, my jaw clenched.
“I hate you!” I shouted before I stomped away. I went further into the woods.
I came across a stream with a nice looking rock. I finally took a seat, dropping my head into my hands. I watched the water move, trying to imagine what my father would say -- but even an image refused to meet my mind. I had never met him, but my frustration kept him further from me.
“Alright, Finch, we are setting up camp here tonight,” he said. “Dr. Petrov was out of line... are you okay?”
“I think you are new, Finch. That’s it,” he said. “You just need true combat practice. And Dr. Petrov shouldn’t keep you from it.”
I nodded, keeping my sights forward. For the rest of the night, I kept away from Dr. Petrov. I wanted to stay by myself to arrange my thoughts.
