If at first you don't succeed...(Kaja, Open)

[Akilah Windsong]

15 Day of Fall, 511

It was still early. A small egg lay at one edge of the sky, the golden yolk bursting out slowly as it covered the sky. Few clouds were out, their edges tinged pink, and only the birds chattered. Akilah slipped out of her home, ignoring the crowd behind her, certain that no one would notice the fact that she and her sword were gone until lunch.

Well, her father and Adámas would notice, but the former wouldn't mind as long as she fed Vespra and the latter would find her when the horse was ready for it. Emerging from her entrance, she paused near her home and stared at the dead animal in front of her house. How strange. Crouching, she stared at the furry creature, at its snout and small ears. A deer. Its fur was matted slightly with blood, its body caught forever in a fleeing position.

She had heard of animals bringing home presents to their master, but nothing as large as a deer. Maybe a team of them worked together, but without guidance?

Strange, but she had seen stranger things happen. Either way, it was there, and soon enough someone else would come out and spot it. Maybe her father or aunt, and what they would make with it--

Already her mouth watered. There were few people walking the streets, the morning rush of movement already passed, and she made it a point to walk forward.

The meal would still be waiting when she got home, after all.

"Thank you, Zulrav." The wind was warm, not chilly as it had been the past few days. Her light clothes would still be enough for now and maybe in a month she would have to change them for a slightly heavier winter wear. At her hip, her sword lay heavy, and she was proud of that. She could carry it so easily now, could notice the weight and still bear it.

Tomorrow she would got to the War Storm. Today, though, she would train on her own.

Reaching the edges of the city, she paused to admire the reddish-brown earth, the short bushes that sprang sparsely on it. Nature's own arena, complete with bird spectators.

Finding a spot to stand in it, she took of her sword and placed it on the ground beside her. Before any activity, stretches were a must, and with that in mind she reached down, touching her toes.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Release. Reach up, reach down once more. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Each exercise a set of ten within a set of ten. Her muscles burned slightly as she leaned down, her legs straight.

After that, she stretched her calves, her legs carefully set apart, one knee bended till the stretch started to burn. And hold, (one, two, three...), and release. Now the other calve and hold (one, two, three...). Back to the first, deeper this time.

Her breathing was heavier when she was done, her arms and legs warmed up for the next stage. Reaching down, she picked up her sword and carefully swung it.

(Sets upon sets upon sets--this was practice, this was what she memorized from day one. Her body soaked in these sets, from practices that lasted from dawn to dusk, and even without thinking she knew what to do.)

Her arms held it above her head, a forty-five degree angle. One foot slightly in front of the other, her hands carefully positioned on the hilt, she swung down, taking care to stop when her arms were at a ninety-degree angle with her body. And again, and again, she repeated the swings, taking care to time it, taking care to make sure each move was concise and perfect.

Before she could fight someone, after all, she had to know where to hit and how.