The woman had brought a wild boar's leg.
It hadn't been cooked over a fire. It was a lump of meat, raw and dripping blood. The woman tossed it down at Wiho's feet.
"Eat."
The poleaxe wielder looked back and forth between the bloody lump of meat and the woman's face. Her yellow eyes were clear, utterly free of deceit. She wore the expression of someone who had sincerely served a human being a meal.
"...I can't eat it uncooked."
"Why not?"
The woman tilted her head slightly. Her tiger ears perked up.
"Humans have weak stomachs. Eating raw meat makes us ill."
"Tch. Humans, always so troublesome. What a useless body, needing so much fussing over."
Clicking her tongue, the woman climbed onto a rock and sat down. She flicked her ears and pretended not to care, but her gaze kept slipping downward.
The poleaxe wielder let out a quiet sigh and went outside the cave. He gathered dry branches, then lightly rubbed the metal at the end of his poleaxe's shaft against a rock until he got a spark. When smoke began to rise at the cave entrance, the woman wrinkled her nose.
"That smell burns! Are you planning to burn down the whole mountain?"
"There's no helping it if the meat is to cook."
"Honestly, what a nuisance..."
Though she grumbled, the woman didn't leave the cave. Instead, she rested her chin on the edge of the rock and stared intently at the meat cooking in the flames. Whenever fat dripped down with a sizzle, her tail tapped the rocky floor. Tap, tap. She couldn't hide her interest.
When the meat had browned nicely, the poleaxe wielder tore off a hefty piece, let it cool, and held it out to her.
"Would you like some?"
"You're offering me food from my mountain? Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not taking it because I particularly want to eat it."
Her words said one thing, but her hand moved faster than light. Snatching the meat between her fingertips, the woman took a small bite. For an instant, her eyes widened ever so slightly. Her ears stood straight up, and her tail brushed the rock with a pleased, restless swish.
"...Not bad. There is some merit to using fire."
Without a word, the woman finished one piece of meat in an instant. Perhaps embarrassed by herself, she cleared her throat with an ahem and rested her chin on her hand again.
"I thought humans did a lot of pointless things... Well, I suppose you're not entirely useless."
The poleaxe wielder swallowed a small laugh to himself and chewed the rest of the meat. It was the first proper food he'd had in days. He could feel his dulled senses gradually returning.
Several days passed.
Once his wounds had nearly healed, the poleaxe wielder swung his poleaxe every morning in the clearing before the cave. The arc of the poleaxe wielded by his six-feet-three-inch frame was heavy. Each motion—cutting, thrusting, and pushing away—came back as an echo through the mountain.
The woman would sit on the rock at the cave entrance and quietly watch him. She yawned as if bored, but whenever Wiho's poleaxe cleaved through the air, her ears perked up and her eyes followed its arc.
"Too slow."
The woman suddenly tossed out a single remark. Wiho stopped and turned toward her.
"Too slow? It isn't easy to reach this kind of speed with a polearm."
"To my eyes, it looks like a snail crawling. Your muscles and bones are sturdy, but that's all. You can't draw upon the earth's energy, and you can't ride the mountain's breath. You're merely wringing out the strength in your own body and abusing that poor piece of metal."
The woman lightly hopped down from the rock. At around five feet three inches, she wasn't particularly short by human standards, but beside the poleaxe wielder's six-foot frame, she looked decidedly petite. Yet the weight of her presence did not yield in the slightest.
"That Goguryeo commander you fought, and the strength you used to beat down my cubs—they're all human techniques with clearly defined limits. No matter how tough you are, the strength you possess will age and wither as the years pass."
The poleaxe wielder adjusted his grip. The woman's words were not wrong. No matter how invincible a commander was called on the battlefield, he could still meet a futile death from a single sword or arrow. Human strength had a definite wall.
"Then what must I do?"
"Who knows."
The woman slowly circled around Wiho.
"You said you didn't have a name."
"That's right. I'm only called the poleaxe wielder."
"A sword with no master, a shell with no name. You look stupid, so I don't like it."
The woman placed a finger against Wiho's chest. A cold energy pierced through the fabric and reached his heart.
"From today onward, your name is Wiho."
"Wiho..."
"The one who protects the tiger, or the one who receives the tiger's protection. Either meaning will do. I can't stand watching you wander around my mountain like a little creature, being called 'hey you' or 'poleaxe wielder' any longer. Remember that."
Wiho looked down at the woman's small hand resting against his chest.
No one had ever given him a name in his entire life. The Silla commanders and his fellow soldiers had simply called him 'Axe.' Only the Goguryeo commander had offered to give him a name, and he had refused.
And yet the spirit deity of this mountain—a tiger woman as prickly as they came—had tossed him a name.
"...Wiho."
Wiho rolled the name around in his mouth again and again. Something warm seemed to resonate deep in his chest.
"Thank you."
"Hmph. There's no need to thank me. I chose it because it's easier for me to call you. Don't get the wrong idea."
The woman whipped around, her tail swishing. But the tips of her ears, moving ever so slightly, were stiff with tension.
"Wiho."
"Yes?"
"Do you want to leave my mountain?"
Wiho took a moment to collect his thoughts. If he went down, where would he go? Should he return to the Silla army? But even if he returned with his current abilities, he would still die blocking some narrow passageway as an ordinary, nameless soldier. The Goguryeo commander's words flashed through his mind. 'Any sword I can't have must be broken.'
It wasn't time yet.
"If I went now, I'd only die like a dog. I need to become stronger."
The corners of the woman's mouth lifted slightly. She tried to put on a haughty expression, but she couldn't hide the interest shining in her yellow eyes.
"Oh? You have a decent grasp of your own limits. Do you want to become stronger? Do you want power that surpasses the limits of humanity?"
"If it's possible."
"Fine. It's troublesome watching you die on my mountain, so train under me. I'll teach you how to set your feet on the earth and how to draw the mountain's breath into your own body."
The woman reached out and grasped the shaft of Wiho's poleaxe. As strength entered her small hand, the poleaxe shaft—harder than steel—began to tremble faintly.
"In return, don't run away crying just because I teach you harshly. Understand?"