Through The Ashes

11

It was early morning when Mara handed Jorn a wooden blade—at least, it was supposed to resemble one. Black tape was wrapped around the bottom, mimicking the hilt of a katana. The faint smell of pine lingered from the hastily carved wood.

Jorn examined it for a moment, her thumb brushing over the rough surface. It was crude, a far cry from the precision of her usual tools, but it would do.

Mara stood in front of her, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She held out an identical wooden blade, twirling it playfully between her fingers before tossing it from hand to hand. "Rematch, with a twist," she said with a grin. "Though, I'm not sure how close this comes to the real thing."

Jorn gave a small grunt of acknowledgment, feeling the balance of the wooden weapon in her hands. "Better than nothing," she muttered.

The early light was soft, casting long shadows across the ground. Dew clung to the dirt and random patches of grass beneath their boots, and the air held that crisp edge of humidity.

Jorn tested a few swings, adjusting to the weight. It wasn't perfect, but it had potential. "Where'd you find the time to make these?" she asked, her tone neutral, though she was genuinely curious.

"I didn't. They're the kids," Mara shrugged, her gaze flicking toward Jorn. "I promised them we wouldn't break them."

Jorn glanced up, catching the look in Mara's eyes. "I'm surprised they let you have these."

Mara smirked, with a quick flick of her wrist, she held her blade at the ready, a challenging smile lighting up her face. "I may have promised them I was gonna beat you up."

Jorn's lips twitched, though she kept her expression carefully guarded. "Don't get cocky."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Mara shot back, already moving into position.

Jorn took a breath, rolling her shoulders to loosen the tension.

"Ready?" Mara asked, twirling her wooden blade with ease.

Jorn gave a curt nod, her face set in a firm expression. She couldn't let Mara win this time. For Jorn, this was payback. A friendly revenge.

Mara was the first to strike, darting forward with a quick, sweeping blow aimed at Jorn's side. The sound of wood clashing echoed sharply through the air as Jorn blocked the strike, stepping back to regain her footing. Their movements were measured at first—careful, calculated.

"I hope you don't give me another easy win," Mara teased, a smirk dancing across her lips as she twisted away from Jorn's next strike.

Jorn's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on the hilt of her wooden blade. She didn't respond verbally, but the next strike came faster, more forceful. Mara barely had time to block it, and Jorn was sure the impact sent a shock up both their arms.

For a moment, they locked eyes. Mara's teasing expression softened into something more serious. The air between them filled with tension as they circled each other, the rhythm of their breaths falling into sync.

Mara lunged again, this time with more precision, aiming high toward Jorn's shoulder. Jorn parried, spinning on her heel to deflect the blow, her movements fluid and instinctive. Their wooden blades clashed again, this time more fiercely, and for the first time, Jorn felt the moment shift. This wasn't just sparring. They were testing each other's limits, learning how far they could push, how close they could get.

With a quick movement, Mara swept Jorn's legs out from under her, sending her stumbling backward. Jorn barely caught herself, her knees bending slightly to regain balance, but she didn't fall. Mara grinned, clearly pleased with herself.