Dawn crept through a dense forest near Hastinapura, its pale light filtering through thick branches to dapple the mossy ground below. Howls echoed in the distance, sharp and wild, as the air thrummed with the rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs. Traps lay hidden among the roots—cages of iron holding wolves and boars, their growls rumbling low—released now to roam free. The forest stretched vast and untamed, its shadows alive with danger, a proving ground trembling with primal force, ready to test the princes against fang and fury.
Drona stood at the forest's edge, his lean frame steady in the faint glow, his tattered white robes fluttering faintly as he adjusted a spear in his grip. His gray hair was tied back tight, and his dark eyes gleamed with a stern, primal fire as he faced the Kuru princes. In one hand, he held his staff, its tip planted firm in the soft earth; the other gestured toward a pile of weapons—spears, swords, and daggers—glinting in the early light. The princes gathered around him, their tunics rolled up for the fight, their breaths puffing in the cool air as they glanced into the trees, excitement and nerves flickering in their wide eyes.
Bhima rocked on his heels, his massive frame rustling the undergrowth, his broad grin flashing wide as he clapped his hands with a loud thud that sent a bird flapping away. "Beasts today, guru?" he said, his voice booming through the forest, loud enough to stir the shadows. "This is my kind of game! We hunting or wrestling them?"
Drona turned to him, his expression calm but unyielding, his voice cutting through the dawn with steady force. "Fighting, Bhima," he said, his tone deep and firm, hushing the air for a moment. "Wolves and boars, set loose. Take them down—weapon or hands. Strength and skill. Choose your tool, step in. Begin when you hear the howl."
Bhima's grin stretched wider, his eyes lighting up as he laughed, the sound rumbling over the trees. "Hands, huh?" he said, his tone bright and eager, flexing his arms as he ignored the weapons. "I'll wrestle them flat! Let's go, guru!"
"Wrestle wise, not wild," Drona replied, his voice dry and patient, pointing into the forest. "One beast each. Bring it down."
Arjuna stepped up beside him, his lean form quiet and still, his sandals silent on the moss as he studied the spears. His tunic shimmered with dew, his breath even, and his dark eyes locked on Drona with a steady focus. "This is raw," he said, his voice soft but clear, grabbing a spear with a nod. "It's about control, guru. Any tips?"
"Strike clean," Drona said, his gaze settling on Arjuna with a flicker of warmth, his tone firm. "Find the heart, end it quick. You'll do it."
Duryodhana strode forward, his chin high, his dark hair glinting in the dawn as he snatched a sword from the pile. "End it quick?" he said, his voice low and edged with a growl, his brow lifting slightly. "I'll carve them up. This is my fight. Guru, I'm set."
"Carve with purpose," Drona said, his tone stern and sharp, meeting Duryodhana's growl with a nod. "Step in. Show me."
A wolf's howl pierced the air, sharp and wild, and the princes moved into the trees, their footsteps crunching the leaves as the forest roared to life. Bhima charged forward, his massive frame crashing through the underbrush, his laugh booming as he spotted a boar rooting near a fallen log. "Here we go!" he shouted, his voice ringing loud, diving at the beast with bare hands. The boar squealed, tusks flashing, and Bhima grabbed its neck, wrestling it to the ground with a grunt, pinning it as it thrashed.
"Got you!" Bhima said, his tone bright and triumphant, laughing loud as he held the boar down, its hooves kicking air. "You're mine, pig!"
Drona watched from the edge, his voice steady and firm as he called through the trees. "Hold it, Bhima!" he said, his tone warm with patience, stepping closer. "Finish it!"
"Finish?" Bhima said, chuckling as he tightened his grip, his muscles bulging. "I'll hug it to sleep!" He twisted, pinning the boar still, then leapt up, brushing dirt from his hands as it lay panting.
Arjuna moved silent through the shadows, his spear low, his breath slow and even as he tracked a wolf's growl. "There," he murmured, his voice soft and lost to the dawn, lunging with a smooth thrust. The spear struck clean, piercing the wolf's chest, and it crumpled with a yelp, gone in a heartbeat. "One," he said, his tone calm and steady, pulling the spear free as blood stained the moss.
Drona's eyes gleamed, his voice warm with awe as he stepped through the brush. "One?" he said, his tone lifting slightly, steady despite the howls. "Perfect, Arjuna! That's skill!"
Duryodhana faced a boar, his sword raised, his scowl fierce as he growled low. "Come on!" he said, his voice sharp and edged, swinging hard. The blade slashed the boar's flank, blood spraying as it charged, and he struck again, a brutal cut to the neck that dropped it thrashing. "Done," he said, his tone low and proud, wiping the blade on the grass as red dripped from his hands.
The forest pulsed with their efforts, the air thick with snarls and the clash of steel—Bhima's roaring wrestle, Arjuna's lethal thrust, Duryodhana's bloody slashes. Bhima spotted a wolf, its eyes glinting in the dawn, and charged with a shout. "Another!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, grabbing the beast mid-leap. He lifted it overhead, his arms straining, and tossed it aside with a laugh, the wolf yelping as it rolled into the brush.
"Ha!" Bhima said, his tone bright and exultant, pounding his chest with a thud. "That's my catch!"
Drona stepped forward, his voice warm with awe as he nodded at Bhima. "Tossed?" he said, his tone ringing clear, his eyes wide. "Bare-handed, Bhima? That's might!"
Bhima grinned, his chest heaving, his voice loud and teasing as he brushed leaves from his tunic. "Might?" he said, his tone bright and honest, laughing through the dawn. "I'm a storm! These beasts love me, huh?"
"Love or fear," Drona said, his tone dry but fond, shaking his head as howls faded. "Strength, Bhima. You've got it."
Arjuna speared a second wolf, his thrust swift and sure, the beast falling silent under his calm gaze. "Two," he said, his voice soft and steady, wiping the spear on the moss as he stepped back.
Duryodhana hacked at a wolf, his sword flashing twice—chest, throat—blood soaking the earth as it collapsed. "Two," he said, his voice low and sharp, his smirk faint as he shook red from his blade.
Drona called them in, his voice cutting through the forest, his staff tapping once, twice. "Enough," he said, his tone warm and final, the dawn brightening around them. "Bhima, two beasts, wild and fearless. Arjuna, two, calm and lethal. Duryodhana, two, brutal and proud."
Bhima lumbered over, his grin wide as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Two's my roar!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, clapping his hands. "I'll wrestle the forest next time! Good hunt, huh?"
"Hunt's one word," Drona said, his tone amused but firm, nodding at him. "Power's yours, Bhima."
Arjuna set his spear down, his breath steady, his smile warm and quiet as he brushed blood from his hands. "That was alive, guru," he said, his voice soft and honest, flexing his arm. "They're fast."
"Fast and gone," Drona replied, his pride clear, nodding at him through the light. "That's your gift, Arjuna. Precision."
Duryodhana trudged up, his sword dripping, his scowl deep as he crossed his arms. "Two's solid," he said, his voice low and sharp, glaring at Bhima. "But that toss? I'll top it. This isn't over."
"Top this!" Bhima said, his voice loud and teasing, flexing his arms with a grin. "I'm a beast myself! Good cuts, though!"
"Cuts that kill," Duryodhana replied, his smirk sharpening, his tone sly and edged as he turned away. "I'll carve deeper."
Arjuna stepped between them, his voice soft and steady as he nodded at Duryodhana. "Two's no jest," he said, his tone warm and calm. "You're fierce, cousin."
"Fierce is a start," Duryodhana said, his voice low and sharp, brushing past. "I'll be more."