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Description
He sighed heavily, a sad smile crawling onto his face as he listened to the yells and scream floating in through the window. He looked at his tightly bandaged arm, seeing the blood still soaking the rough material. If he hadn't been that careless, he could train outside with the other novices right now.

"There's something on your mind, isn't there, Malik?"

"It's alright, brother…" he answered the question and continued to read through the book lying on the floor in front of him. He had already wasted enough time just dreaming of going outside…

But the other assassin, much older and wiser than Malik himself, wouldn't be fooled that easily.

"Just go outside if you want to, Malik… I'm pretty sure you still haven't met the master's favorite novice… I'll tell Al Mualim that you couldn't stand staying inside anymore – he will understand. Just make sure you're fighting with Altair when he's looking for you…"

He nodded, still not quite feeling well at the idea of sneaking outside.

He wasn't sure what the older assassin had meant to say with his last few words. Why should he fight with that Altair? They hadn't even met before, they had no reason to not get along with each other like with every other novice.

Slowly he went down the stairs, still not feeling well. He had difficulties with keeping his balance, his arm almost bound to his upper body to keep it from moving. It was annoying, to say at least. It also would take him weeks to get back to his normal condition, he was afraid.

Looking around he exited the building, now entering the garden the novice's used to train in. They couldn't use the training ground in the front whenever the older assassin's were fighting there.

It only took Malik a few seconds to locate the origin of the yells and the noises of wooden blades clashing against each other.

They were fighting at the lowest point of the fort, right next to the cliff.

A louder yell, followed by the "thump" of a body hitting the ground. Then there was only one voice which Malik couldn't recognize.

"So, anyone here who wants to fight with REAL swords? I'm getting sick of those things…"

Malik laughed, finding a way through the crowd that was surrounding the fence of the fortress. As soon as he was in the front, he saw the boy whom he was looking for.

Dark, dirty brown hair, as short as his own. A tiny scar on the right side of his mouth. And several other scars all over his exposed chest and back. The novice, Altair, only wore his pants and boots, skin covered with sweat. But he wasn't panting, his eyes clearly focused and wide awake.

An eagle's eyes.

"If the master's favorite is alright with someone such as me… Then I'd gladly fight!" he called out, suddenly feeling much more confident than ever before. Even as those eagle's eyes were looking directly at him, gaze running through him like a sharp blade. Malik didn't flinch at all.

Altair's brow slowly raised as his gaze wandered over his body and stopped at the wounded arm, bound tightly against Malik's body. Then a smirk spread over his face, clearly arrogant. He stretched his arms to the side, sword holding loosely in one hand.

"Oh, some insect trying to fight the bird?" he provoked the Arab, grinning like mad, seemingly amused.

Malik laughed without humor, staring at the novice intensely. Then he nodded towards a younger novice, right at his side, who was watching the "show", mouth agape in awe.

"Bring me a sword" he commanded, knowing that the boy would obey. Then he again faced Altair, determination obvious in his eyes.

"You know… even a small bird which was deprived of a wing can beat an eagle which overestimates itself and flies too high… And I'll gladly show you the evidence, Altair…"

When they fought it really looked the way Malik had described it.

Altair's moves were fast, sharp and hurried, always trying to push Malik off-balance, clearly seeking blood as he stormed towards Malik. But his movements were fast and full of grace. He didn't trip, never even swaying slightly despite the fact that his arm was rendered useless. He dodged easily.

It looked like a bird was flying around an eagle, teasing it.

And it always stayed that way. It didn't matter what happened to them… They'd always be a bird and an eagle, one gracious, thinking before acting, the other a hunter lead by his instincts. And another fact never changed.

Altair's eyes always remained that of an eagle, sharp, showing his determination and stubbornness. They'd only grow warm when Malik was the only one looking at him, the prey suddenly teasing or soothing the hunter…

Description
He sighed heavily, a sad smile crawling onto his face as he listened to the yells and scream floating in through the window. He looked at his tightly bandaged arm, seeing the blood still soaking the rough material. If he hadn't been that careless, he could train outside with the other novices right now.

"There's something on your mind, isn't there, Malik?"

"It's alright, brother…" he answered the question and continued to read through the book lying on the floor in front of him. He had already wasted enough time just dreaming of going outside…

But the other assassin, much older and wiser than Malik himself, wouldn't be fooled that easily.

"Just go outside if you want to, Malik… I'm pretty sure you still haven't met the master's favorite novice… I'll tell Al Mualim that you couldn't stand staying inside anymore – he will understand. Just make sure you're fighting with Altair when he's looking for you…"

He nodded, still not quite feeling well at the idea of sneaking outside.

He wasn't sure what the older assassin had meant to say with his last few words. Why should he fight with that Altair? They hadn't even met before, they had no reason to not get along with each other like with every other novice.

Slowly he went down the stairs, still not feeling well. He had difficulties with keeping his balance, his arm almost bound to his upper body to keep it from moving. It was annoying, to say at least. It also would take him weeks to get back to his normal condition, he was afraid.

Looking around he exited the building, now entering the garden the novice's used to train in. They couldn't use the training ground in the front whenever the older assassin's were fighting there.

It only took Malik a few seconds to locate the origin of the yells and the noises of wooden blades clashing against each other.

They were fighting at the lowest point of the fort, right next to the cliff.

A louder yell, followed by the "thump" of a body hitting the ground. Then there was only one voice which Malik couldn't recognize.

"So, anyone here who wants to fight with REAL swords? I'm getting sick of those things…"

Malik laughed, finding a way through the crowd that was surrounding the fence of the fortress. As soon as he was in the front, he saw the boy whom he was looking for.

Dark, dirty brown hair, as short as his own. A tiny scar on the right side of his mouth. And several other scars all over his exposed chest and back. The novice, Altair, only wore his pants and boots, skin covered with sweat. But he wasn't panting, his eyes clearly focused and wide awake.

An eagle's eyes.

"If the master's favorite is alright with someone such as me… Then I'd gladly fight!" he called out, suddenly feeling much more confident than ever before. Even as those eagle's eyes were looking directly at him, gaze running through him like a sharp blade. Malik didn't flinch at all.

Altair's brow slowly raised as his gaze wandered over his body and stopped at the wounded arm, bound tightly against Malik's body. Then a smirk spread over his face, clearly arrogant. He stretched his arms to the side, sword holding loosely in one hand.

"Oh, some insect trying to fight the bird?" he provoked the Arab, grinning like mad, seemingly amused.

Malik laughed without humor, staring at the novice intensely. Then he nodded towards a younger novice, right at his side, who was watching the "show", mouth agape in awe.

"Bring me a sword" he commanded, knowing that the boy would obey. Then he again faced Altair, determination obvious in his eyes.

"You know… even a small bird which was deprived of a wing can beat an eagle which overestimates itself and flies too high… And I'll gladly show you the evidence, Altair…"

When they fought it really looked the way Malik had described it.

Altair's moves were fast, sharp and hurried, always trying to push Malik off-balance, clearly seeking blood as he stormed towards Malik. But his movements were fast and full of grace. He didn't trip, never even swaying slightly despite the fact that his arm was rendered useless. He dodged easily.

It looked like a bird was flying around an eagle, teasing it.

And it always stayed that way. It didn't matter what happened to them… They'd always be a bird and an eagle, one gracious, thinking before acting, the other a hunter lead by his instincts. And another fact never changed.

Altair's eyes always remained that of an eagle, sharp, showing his determination and stubbornness. They'd only grow warm when Malik was the only one looking at him, the prey suddenly teasing or soothing the hunter…