She made a beeline for the Yards, picking up a practice sword. She laid it aside while she stretched, feeling the tension leave her shoulders and lower back. Scrubbing pots every free minute for the last month was a whole different kind of labor than her normal training routine. Her body didn't like this. She was just glad today was her last day. One more hour this evening and her punishment for getting in late would finally be over.
She picked up her practice sword and rolled her shoulders, falling into The Leaf Floating on the Breeze, her grip relaxed. Her mind's eye conjured up a pair of trollocs rushing at her, one in front and another coming up behind. She changed her stance to Lizard in the Thornbush, thrusting the blade forward into the first imaginary Trolloc's chest. Then she pivoted and dropped to her knee, bringing it up swiftly where the Trolloc's belly would be, imagining the blade sliding up into its torso.
She pulled the sword back to her side, smoothly rising to her feet. She imagined another Trolloc rushing at her, arms raised and midsection exposed. She raised the sword horizontally at her side, gripping it with both hands. She began swinging it at the Trolloc's midsection and just before it'd connect with the imaginary foe's torso, she gave an extra heave to propel the blade more swiftly. But as she did, she knew her stance was off, her feet too close together; off balance and arms still swinging with momentum, she felt herself twirl a full 180 degrees before she fell to the ground with a grunt, landing solidly on her backside. She blew the hair out of her eyes with a frustrated breath and lay down in the dirt, her pride stinging more than anything else. Fine thing being knocked down while fighting imaginary foes. How was she ever going to be ready for real battle?