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[color=Palegreen]Time[/color]: Morning
[color=Lightblue]Location[/color]: A forest close to Ra Monde
[color=Palegreen]Interactions[/color]: None
[color=Lightblue]Ambience[/color]: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQ0zx7-yJLE]Trees and lanterns[/url]

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[center][color=Palegreen][h3]Week summary[/h3][/color][/center] 

It had taken Ilan a day or two to get used to small amounts of daylight in the rebel hiding place of Ra Monde. The times he ventured outside were few and far between. Multiple reasons made the faun remain underground, sometimes against his will. The rebels advised him not to go outside on his own. He had been seen with two humans already which made them fear for his safety. Ilan wholeheartedly agreed, not being the bravest soul known to man. A protector had been appointed to him, a stern and unforgiving grey monk Mr Alburn who also insisted on him staying safe. Staying safe however in Mr Alburns book didn't simply mean hiding out in Ra Monde. The both of them awoke at the crack of dawn each day to train outside in the surrounding forests. He showed Ilan how to hit moving targets with his slingshot and instilled some much needed life lessons into the young faun. 

Ilan found Mr Alburns countenance difficult to stomach at times, his outlook often clashing with his own. Yet there was something there, within their disagreements as opposites in life. Young and old, soft and hard, weak willed and steadfast, they came to a middle ground. Mr Alburn was despite his age not unwilling to learn. Ilan taught him about the subtle strength of kindness, gentleness sometimes without even realizing it. 

The faun had taken up his old occupation as an apprentice healer. He wanted to make himself useful to the rebel forces. After they trained he would gather herbs under the watchful eyes of his mentor. The man claimed to have been a healer at the infirmary to win his trust. Ilan however soon found out that wasn't true. He couldn't tell one plant from the next, let alone their healing properties. He didn't make any mention of it. There was no need to attack the man for not telling the truth. 

Ilan and Belladonna had the chance to get to know one another. Ilan found her to be kind and a little withdrawn much like himself. At times she was difficult to read or understand. They spend time together in between Ilan's training and healing sessions. Together they cooked up an idea to figure out her natural affinity for one of the four natural elements. Surprisingly it did actually work. It took a few attempts to get it right. They found out Belladonna was connected to water. Ilan tried his best to teach her how to use her magic with his own limited experience. It wasn't easy for either of them. Ilan didn't have any magic of his own, he drew it out from his lyre. Belladonna had to draw the magic from herself. By trial and error they found some techniques which worked out well.

[center][color=Palegreen][h3]Present time[/h3][/color][/center] 

[color=Firebrick]"Put your back into it boy, don't hold back because I'm old!"[/color] Mr Alburn barked at the young faun. Ilan was trying to hit the old monk who was running in between the trees. They were using bundles of weighted fabric, tied together with strings. A piece of clay was added in the centre to add weight. It felt different to stones. Still he was hesitant in using them. Mr Alburn made him aim for his head. He had to forego his lyre and rely more on his slingshot.  
Always go for the head...
Everyone could hit a motionless target. 

He loaded up his sling and took his time to get a good shot. Ilan ignored the taunting remarks of his mentor, trying to predict where he would go next. The round ball soared through the air, going for the monk. Before it could collide the man snatched it out of the air with impressive dexterity, considering his age. 
[color=Firebrick]"Very good Ilan!"[/color] He said in rare praise to the faun. If he hadn't stopped it the ball would have definitely hit him square in the head. Near to the temples just like he taught him. 

Ilan smiled and moved his focus on the floating lanterns which were moving about in the breeze. Mr Aburn had tied them to the trees below. He had four shots left and there were exactly four lanterns left. Each one would have to be perfect.
No pressure. He thought to himself. Ilan placed another ball into his sling, rotating his wrist to let it gather some momentum.

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