The sky was a beautiful shade of blue with barely a cloud marring the crisp spring air. She gazed up at a flock of birds high above, sunlight catching on their white-tipped wings and wondered why they could fly so freely when it seemed she could barely move at all. The ground was firm and the leaf litter slightly damp where she was lying but she paid it little attention as her laboured breathing slowly calmed.
A shadow fell across her face as a tall figure loomed over her.
“Song,” it said, “You’re not going to learn anything lying down.”
“I am,” she argued, because it was easier than getting up. “I’m learning all about how to present myself as a prone target. It might be useful… one of these days.” She looked up at Olvir’s towering form above, he’d not even broken a sweat despite all the running around.
“You do that all the time when you’re reading,” he argued back. “We’re meant to be training. You’re meant to be a moving target.”
“I was,” she said, still refusing to shift position. “Then you tackled me and made me stop being a moving target. Repeatedly. Ow.” She slapped ineffectually at his foot as he went to poke her in the ribs.
“Fine,” he shrugged. “Stay there, I’ll let the Dragon-Blood hordes know where to find you…”
She shot him a glare, because she was trying not to laugh – laughing would make her already-bruised sides hurt more than ever – and carefully hauled herself to her feet.
“Okay,” she said, readying herself for his attack and wondering if she could feint and make him charge into a tree instead. “One more time…”