By afternoon the training yard had turned into a churned-up mess of slush and boot prints. Mara had the women running shield drills with heavy planks strapped to their arms.
I joined for a short round, wooden blade in my grip, moving slower than I used to but still landing clean strikes. Lila watched from a fur-lined basket Rylan had carried out, chewing on a strip of dried venison and kicking her legs every time steel rang against wood.
One of the younger girls hesitated on a block, and I corrected her stance, showing how to drop her weight instead of leaning back.
"Commit," I said. "Half measures get you killed when it matters."
She tried again and the block held. A small cheer went up from the line. I stepped back, breath fogging, and felt the twins give a hard double kick that made me wince.
Rylan appeared at my side, took the blade from my hand, and pressed a waterskin into it instead.
