He stretched then flexed. Reached out as fast as he could. Then its tiny head spilled from it's shell biting him on the finger. He pulled back again.
"I can't do this."
"Then you can do nothing!"
He reached again and cried as the turtle bit him again this time drawing blood.
"Why is this so important to you!"
"Important to you young monk not me."
The old man left quietly, leaving the boy to himself. As he left memories of his words rang through his head.
"Keep falling falling falling."
"Keep running running running."
"Blessed with all the thunder in the world."
None of it made sense to him. He constantly struggled. For days he sat thinking,trying to understand. He fought sleep valiantly, but he could not win. He woke to a pair of beady black eyes staring at him.
"I guess you want to bite me again."
It made no reply just stared at him emotionless. He slowly removed his arm from his side and towards the turtle. Struggling as he tried to anticipate the snap of its mouth onto his hands,which by now were covered in scars. Slowly his hand went closer and closer and his fear of the pain grew and grew. Then with the slightest touch he felt its shell firm in his hand.