So it was a crazy weekend around here. And I mades some progress in editing, but not much. I also had a post I started to draft on Walter White and Frank Underwood, but life doesn’t much care for my plans. In place of any other update, here’s a snippet from an older work.
“Higher. You’re dropping your guard,” her father said.
Mayna rubbed the stinging spot on her upper arm. That would bruise, but no worse than any of her others.
“Again,” her father said.
Mayna picked up her wooden sword, barely feeling the hilt through the bandages on her blistered palm.
After training they returned to their apartment. Mayna removed her armor piece by piece, placing it carefully on its rack, even though was only practise armor. She struggled for the catch on her left shoulder. Each time she reached for it, a sharp pain in her ribs caught her.
Mayna turned to her mother and saw her slowly shaking her head. She stepped toward Mayna and released the catch Mayna couldn’t reach. After placing the breastplate on the rack she took Mayna’s hands in hers and turned them over; palm up.
“You need fresh bandages. I’ll get them and some water.”