Jira settles down for the night, her back against a tree and in her lap a knot of wood that was only the expanse of her lap. She smiles at his words, but when she finally speaks he might already be asleep, "Good Kinnegar. Keep that resolve..you will need it in the coming weeks."<br/><br/>Sighing she works through the night, a sharpened knife quickly becoming dulled only to be sharpened once more flashes occasionally in the moonlight. Her eyes are on her little project, but her ears are alert for any sounds out of the ordinairy. Here, in the darkness with the young king asleep and she was all alone once again, Jira did let just a moment of self pity slide through her. A moment to think of what might have been had she herself not been born to a oathbound family. A family of her own would have surely already been started, a house with a warm fire...soft hands like a lady and not the calloused hands of a swordswoman. But this moment does not last long, before it is squelched with just a single glance towards the sleeping boy.<br/><br/>A smile is given, he needed her. The world needed him. That was all there was to it.<br/><br/>Day break came, casting an eerie fog through out the forest, and a weary Jira stands with her finished product in her hands that she pulled over to the sleeping Kinnegar. Tossing it down beside him, she nudged him gently with her foot. "Wake up. We need to make some ground today." Beside him lays a very crudely carved wooden sword. Its 'blade' no where near straight thanks to the knots in the wood Jira had found, but if he hefts it he will see it weighs close to the same as any real sword, which is the end goal that Jira was aiming. "Take up your weapon. The first thing you learn is to get comfortable with the extra weight. So today, you will carry the wooden sword, you will continue to carry it until I have taught you enough bladesmanship so that you willnot be lopping my head off by accident."