To Trust a Witcher

Training

Swinging the sword, I hit the neck of the straw body before using the back of the wooden sword to strike the torso. And then?

I repeat. 

Again and again and again. 

Until my body follows into a natural rhythm of whacking the straw. 

It's been a week since the warg tried to eat me for lunch. Since then, I've been running around the keep every day with a shadow. Most of the time, it's Geralt, but when Geralt is needed in the alchemy room, Lambert or Eskel join me. 

The sword slips out of my hand when I break concentration for a second.

I grunt, annoyed, and grab it, resuming the strikes. I've been working on the straw body for quite some time today, but I have no plans of stopping.

For the moment, I've been left without supervision, so I take the chance to execute some more difficult moves without anyone judging.

I perform one I've seen Geralt do- where he drops the sword, catches it, and drives it into the body at the same time. Unable to catch it in time, it falls to the ground. Grumbling, I reach forward, pick it up, and retry.

Again. 

Again. 

Again.

I almost catch it by the fifth time.

Again.

Again.

Again.

I catch it by the ninth time and manage to tap the straw body. I need to hit it harder. I need to catch it with more momentum.

Again. 

Again.

Again.

I perform the maneuver by the thirteenth time, albeit a bit shakily on my feet. 

Now that I've got the base down, I repeat the sequence for another twenty minutes, until I see confidence in my moves. 

"Nicely done," I hear someone say behind me, causing me to flinch. 

I see Geralt standing there, with his arms crossed in front of him, as he watches me train.

Pointing the sword to the ground, I ask, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see you've mastered that move. I didn't even teach you that one. Did one of the others show you?" He asks, walking towards me.

I shake my head. "I saw you do that one once, when you were training against Eskel."

"Hm. Not bad." He's close enough that he takes one of my hands and turns it palm up. My hand is severely chafed from working with the sword for hours. I see blisters and calluses across the area where I hold the sword. "You've been overworking yourself. Do you know how long you've been out here for?"

"I don't know. A couple of hours?" I guess, and I clench my hand into a fist, hiding the blisters from him. 

"The whole day," he says, "The sky is darkening now."

Only now do I notice it's not as bright outside. "Oh. I suppose I just got really into it."

"Ciri," Geralt says, and I feel a lecture coming, "I know you're very dedicated about your training, but exhausting yourself is not the answer."

"I'm not exhausted," I deny and turn away from him, deciding to get just a bit more strikes in before going in. I have to be perfect in my form.

I raise my sword and start whacking the straw.