Her motions were languid at first, weak from a lack of exercise and will power. But as she swung her sword in a swift slicing motion and danced on the tip of her toes, she grew lighter and more enthusiastic. She never felt like this when her father taught her; she never understood how this power could feel so majestic and enlightening. She jabbed and thrusted and turned, around and around until every aspect blurred into an elongated scene that sucked the awe from her awaiting breath.
And she knew; she knew this is what she was meant for.
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