The Trouble With Letters
The morning sun of the South poured over the training yard like warm honey, gilding the dust that rose in lazy clouds around two figures locked in combat. Karim ducked beneath a swing that would have taken his head clean off his shoulders had it connected, laughing even as he moved.
"You're getting slow, Renna," he called, spinning away from her next strike with a flourish entirely unnecessary for the maneuver. "Or are you simply letting me win because you love me?"
"I would never let you win," Renna shot back, dark braid whipping as she pivoted, wooden practice blade flashing in a low arc. "I'm demonstrating patience. There's a difference."
"Patience looks a lot like losing from where I'm standing."
"You're not standing. You're about to be on your back."
She proved it a heartbeat later, sweeping his legs from beneath him with a move she'd used on him a hundred times since they were children scrapping in this very yard, back when their weapons were sticks and their disputes concerned who got the last honey cake. Karim hit the packed earth with a grunt, dust puffing up around him, and looked up at her grinning face with wounded dignity.
"That was uncalled for."
"That was…
