She turned to the shore then, and was surprised to find Po standing there, gaping. She stood in the pond, the water streaming from her hair and clothing, and held the huge bird up by the neck for him to see. “I got it,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment, his chest rising and falling, for he had run, apparently, at the sight of the underwater struggle. He rubbed his temples. “Katsa. What in Lienid are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’ve caught us a goose.”

“Why didn’t you use your knife? You’re standing in the pond. You’re soaked through.”

“It’s only water,” she said. “It was time I washed my clothing anyway.”

“Katsa—”

“I wanted to see if I could do it,” she said. “What if I’m ever traveling without weapons and I need to eat? It’s good to know how to catch a goose without weapons.”

“You could’ve stood at our camp and shot it, across the pond, if you wanted. I’ve seen your aim.”

“But now I know I can do this,” she said, simply.

He shook his head and held out a hand. “Come out of there, before you catch a chill. And give me that. I’ll pluck it while you change into dry clothing.”

“I never catch a chill,” she said as she waded to shore.

He laughed then. “Oh, Katsa. I’m sure you don’t.” He took the goose from her hands. “Do you still have a fight in you? We can practice while your goose is cooking.”

FIGHTING HIM was different, now that she knew his true advantages. It was a waste of her energy, she realized, to fake a blow. She could have no mental advantage over him; no amount of cleverness would serve her. Her only advantages were her speed and her ferocity. And now that she knew this, it became easy enough to adjust her strategy. She didn’t waste time being creative. She only pummeled him as fast and as hard as she could. He might know where she aimed her next blow, but after a barrage of hits he simply couldn’t keep up with her anymore; he couldn’t move fast enough to block her. They struggled and wrestled as the light faded and the night moved in. Over and over again he surrendered and heaved himself back up to his feet, laughing and moaning.

“This is good practice for me,” he said, “but I can’t see what you have to gain from it. Other than the satisfaction of beating me to a pulp.”

“We’ll have to come up with some new drills,” she said. “Something to challenge both of our Graces.”

“Keep fighting me once the sky is dark. You’ll find us more evenly matched then.”

It was true. The night sky closed in around them, a black sky with no moon and no stars. Eventually Katsa could no longer see, could only make out his vaguest outline. Her blows, as she threw them, were approximate. He knew she couldn’t see, and moved in ways that would confuse her. His defense became stronger. And his own strikes hit her squarely.