Roxxane’s POV
The morning chill stings like a slap. My jacket zips up higher as I trudge forward, each bootstep snapping over loose stones on the trail toward where practice starts.
Last night felt slow, kind of just dragging on. Sleep barely came - my head stayed loud, crowded with doubts and images flashing behind my eyelids. Still, staring at the ceiling, chasing those thoughts, wasn't making things better. Perhaps smashing into motion might help instead.
The training yard's empty when I show up. The smell of old sweat mixed with metal fills the space. Lines of gear stands catch weak light, shimmering faintly. I breathe in slowly - recognizing that odor keeps my head clear.
I think I'm by myself, but then a sound breaks the quiet.
“Well, well. Look who crawled out of bed early. Did
