Rohaan offered up an incredulous look to Wheel when he was told to go hunting with a bow. As if he would sink that low! He huffed, affronted, and said something to him quickly in vokurian with a scowl on his face. Berlin had a point about guns even though he hated them. And Rohaan wanted to learn how to fight with a knife. But a bow? What was he, a peasant human-farmer? There was no point. He did not fear bows like he did other weapons--they were limited in their uses and lethality, particularly if the target could suddenly sprout armored dragon scales. Not to mention, crunching around in the woods with a bow was a clumsy, slow way of hunting. Animals had better senses than that! He would know. Besides, the mere suggestion was an insult to his hunting skills as they were, and though Wheel could stomp him in hand-to hand combat with weaponry, no one could argue he was not a good hunter. 

"You do not ask a cow to give milk from her ears and you do not ask a wolf to kill with his tail alone," he growled defiantly, his characteristic stubborn streak cropping up. "You do not ask a shifter to, ugh, [I]hunt with a bow.[/I] I am not so low as that!" If he wanted to test survival skills without shifting, he could have asked him to identify edible plants vs poison ones, or to free dive for shellfish (which he was exceptional at, as he'd done it his whole life). Besides, he was exhausted and he did not relish the idea of dragging his kill through the dirt like some lowly scavenging animal. He was a proud predator and would behave as such. 

Rising to his feet, he snorted, "Fighting with weapons is your world. But hunting is mine." He spoke with more clarity than a boy his age might, particularly one of low birth and zero education. This was something he felt strongly about. After all, he had learned many things about the ways of humans, but it did not mean he had to become one. He was still ranting when he stomped away. "Next I'll ask YOU to catch a rabbit as a hawk! See how YOU do! Hmph!" His bare feet were still striking the sand hard when he came into their camp and snatched up an apple, sitting on the ground with his feet dangling in a tidal pool lined with dark purple starfish and colorful anemones. 

Berlin approached carefully, seeing the stormy look on his face. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling it would be better to speak in vokurian, so he did. [I]"So...how did it go?"
"HE wanted ME to go hunting with a BOW. Ew."[/I]
Berlin tried not to laugh, but he did let slip a small smile. [i]"But did you train with a knife?"[/I] When he got a nod punctuated by the crunch of an apple, he continued, eyeing the blossoming bruises all over the boy's torso. [I]"Did you fight?"[/I] The word he used for 'fight' was one of two the vokurian language had; one meant combat with the intent to harm, the other meant sparring. He used the former.
[I]"No. It was kinda fun..."[/I] he admitted. [I]"But he does not know our ways. He does not know my ways."
"No, perhaps not. Are you up for hunting today? After all your practicing?"
"My way, yes,"[/I] Rohaan asserted edgily as if Berlin had suggested anything otherwise.
The captain held up his hands. "Aye, aye," he said in Carisian. "Tomorrow I'd like you to work on aerial maneuvers, both with Hana and Wheel. Might as well have the rest of us practice too, while we're at it. And if you and Wheel want to invent some new routines between the two of you, that wouldn't hurt either. And..." his tone softened then. "Would you speak with me tonight? About..."

Rohaan seemed to shut down almost immediately. He stopped kicking his feet in the water, stopped taking bites of the apple in his hands, stopped looking at Berlin entirely. With his gaze fixed on the still surface of the tide pool he said softly, "Aye, Ca-mm."
"Good lad." Berlin went back to the fire pit where he found Pieter, and the two went of to practice with the grappling hooks as Wheel had suggested. This was nothing new to either of them--years at sea meant that this skill was old-hat. But Berlin believed in continuing practice lest a skill get rusty. The two chatted idly as they worked, as old friends do.

--

Hana found Uban chewing some leftover meat from that morning's breakfast, looking hot, tired, but not miserable for it. Despite being autumn, summer had yet to fully release her grasp on the world during the day and would occasionally beat the land with hot sun before the cool moon came out. Like Rohaan and Berlin, he too had tossed aside his shirt to better feel the cool breeze. This revealed a set of questionably criss-crossing scars on his back that looked suspiciously like lashes, and one poorly done tattoo that had to have come from prison, though whether it was some kind of identifying mark like the brand on his wrist, or a piece of gloomy artwork done in the dim light of a cell with a sharpened bone, was unclear. His hair, which he usually wore either down or in a sort of half-ponytail was now bound in a sloppy half ponytail, half bun that proved with certainty that he had no idea how to do hair of any kind. 

He flashed his trademark smile. "Going well? Hope you gave Pieter hell. I, on the other hand, finally got the jump on Berlin. Kind of literally..." He took out his actually sharp dagger which he was using to cut the meat and held it up as it buzzed suddenly in blue arcs for a second before letting them recede. He offered up a chunk of meat, which was cold now, and asked, "So...tell me what you know about like, summoning lightning. Or, heh, if that's too ambitious then what sorts of things can you do with lightning? Can you summon a storm? Or, or, ooh, could you create perfect conditions for a storm? Like you know how in summer, if you're wearing wool, you're fine but in the winter, you put on wool socks and suddenly you're shocking everyone you touch?" And with a very readable hint of self doubt he wondered softly, "Or...is that just me..?" He stuffed some food into his mouth and through it said, "I'll admit, I'm not entirely confident that I know all of what you're capable of. Never met a mage before."