He doesn't understand what these lessons are supposed to teach. Naralex had said he'd instruct him in spellcraft, as his knowledge of it was rudimentary at best, but instead he sits in the Forgotten Pools, using a very small, precise version of the spell known as Entangling Roots to close minute fissures in the rock that a small earthquake had opened up; it had begun draining the water away, and this would eventually leave this entire area of the Barrens without easily accessed water. But while he understood the necessity of making sure the water didn't go away, this was hardly training for being some kind of master spellcrafter! Sitting here up to his waist in warm water while small fish nibbled at his toes, spending hours tucking tiny roots into holes in the rock until water couldn't seep through wasn't going to teach him anything except how to suffer through a sunburn or maybe find out whether or not he can catch fish with his feet. This would be easier done at night, when his power worked easier, not in the heat of the middle of the day.

It's well after dark by the time he returns to the caverns, exhausted and wrinkled and still soaked despite the flight to get back. The stink of wet feathers clung to him long after he abandoned the raven's form, and he doesn't bother with dinner in favor of collapsing onto his bedroll and going to sleep.

He's kicked awake some six hours later by Naralex, who tells him his spellwork had failed to hold for more than a short time, and to go back and do it again.

~ ~ ~ ~

It takes two weeks to finish the job to Naralex's satisfaction. In between exhaustive efforts, he still has to find time to scrub the netherdrake clean and hunt enough food to keep it satisfied; keeping it spelled to sleep during both activities was necessary; for the time being it stays in the pen they'd kept Skum in.

~ ~ ~ ~

Although generally disliked and hostile, the centaur of the Barrens occasionally would venture to ask the help of the druids that lived in the Caverns, sometimes for healing, sometimes for other things. When the Fang was common, anyway. When they were slaughtered, the requests needless to say stopped ... until they realized that the caverns were again inhabited. Naralex, being the wise and compassionate man he was, sees fit to send him on these tasks, and force him to endure the stench and flies that accompanied unwashed centaur bodies, and listen to their gutteral broken language and attempt to understand what the filthy beasts wanted.

They become surprisingly quick to directly ask for his aid when he begins summoning small torrential downpours to try to wash them clean whether they want to be or not. He thinks they miss the point, they think he's blessed by rain gods.

~ ~ ~ ~

The tasks he's sent to perform are all endlessly trivial and usually exhaustive, and he can't see a point to them past making him suffer. He begins utilizing the Laziness principle, making sure it's done right the first time so he doesn't have to keep going back, but Naralex inevitably finds him something else to do. Relighting candles with precise strikes of moonfire, spending hours reweaving root sections, dealing with stinking horsemen.. But it's only when his teacher decides to send him to Ratchet to help a tauren woman there calm some killer fish that he finally decides he's tired of it.

"What's the point to all this?" He knows the demand is rather sudden, and Naralex's look of surprise confirms it. He's been very obliging recently, and it shouldn't be that shocking that he'd decide he was sick of being someone else's menial labor sooner or later. "You said you'd teach me how to use spells to fight, not ... force me to spend forever and a half trudging around playing slave!"

Naralex leans back against the cool stone, and gives him a long, appraising stare. "I never said I'd teach you how to use spells to fight. And why should I teach you anything at all, when you've already learned it?" One hand waves away his immediate protest before it can be voiced. "Those little chores I sent you on did work as I hoped they would, though I'd hoped you'd also realize what they were for. Of the many things you lack, you lack patience, dicipline, tolerance, and getting things right the first time you do them. Over the past few weeks, you've shown the beginnings of understanding those very important things. At this point there isn't much left that I think you need to know about it. Once you know how to wield a spell at the tiniest fraction of its power, you can use it full-strength with just as much precision, normally."

'Normally.' He frowns. "But--"

"Go to Moonglade. There's a man there who was once a Druid of the Talon. If it's more power with spellcraft you want, ask him for aid." Naralex smiles faintly. "He's undeniably skilled. But before you go there's something you need to do first." At his blank expression, Naralex points down a long, winding cavern. "Wake the dragon, and make amends for what you've done. I will not tolerate corruption and cowardice among the druids of the Fang any longer. Do it, or leave this place ... and don't bother to come back. You won't be welcome."