Lana wakes up from her slobber rather grogy but immediately gets energized looking at an old clock she was given.
10 minutes late.
She rushes to her looker and — KNOCK. KNOCK.
The door flies open, and out comes a tall, light-skinned lady with finely braided gray hair. No strays in sight. Physique was maintained by a neatly tucked white shirt with long brown jeans, accompanied by leader boots that always seem to shine.
This was Amara. The head of the camp Lana has been residing in for a month. Although she has her moments of kindness, they are far from her days of strict regime.
"Why knock if you won't wait for a response?"
The words came out absent-mindedly, and she closed her mouth, thinking that she might continue. Amara simply gave her a glare with her hazel eyes, then, in husky voices, said
"I will be awaiting your arrival at the cornfield." She opens the door and gives a hand gesture that Lana knows all too well.
Get there in under a minute, or you will regret it.
Then leaves. Lana gulps hard and sees a stressful practice lesson on the way. She wore her plain white T and black shorts. She buckled on her black books that still had a shine from yesterday's polish. Then she was off to the field.
It is just a few meters away from the camp. It had a clear sky, trees apart, and plenty of logs to use as obstacle courses. In one of the logs, weapons were hidden. Lana once asked why they stowed them there.
Aunt says it's because of her powers and has left it there. On their left was a huge lake, and on their right was the corn field, where Aunt and Lana harvest before the week ends.
"What are you picking this time, mam?"
"Lets see. Ah, old gol rapier." She lets her finger tips graze the whole blade in appreciation. She starts murmuring. Grabbing a sword, Lana zooms in for a surprise attack on Aunt Nape.
Aunt Parries it with ease and gives a look, which made Lana reflexively jump backwards.
"Oh. Were you actually going to cut my nape?"
"You don't deserve a neck if you—"
Cling! Another failed ambush. Dammit, Lana thought. How can she keep up with her? Aunt took a stance, her feet parallel to her sides and her head on Lana. Her prey. Lana braced for a rapid flurry of blows. She gripped her sword tightly. Sweat is building up on her chin. Her eyes were fixed on her. The wind blows, allowing the grass to whistle.
Lana charges. Aunt weaves.
Before she knew it, Lana's sword was dislodged from her hands, and she crashed into the ground. Her groans were met by an impressed facial on Amara.
"Let us leave. Dearan and Kemuri have probably arrived now."
Her eyes glows up at the sound of her name.
"I'm sure she will be grateful for my growth."
Amara helps her up then places the weapons in their log. They now make their way to camp, where what Lana now calls "camp mates." are waiting.
