The night air was cool, but the training ground burned with the energy between Anana and Ira.
Ira's gaze lingered on Anana for a heartbeat and saw that her eyes burned differently, her stance had changed; every muscle coiled, every line of her body toned. Her very breath carried a sharpened edge.
A slow and calculating smirk curved across Ira’s lips.
“Let’s see how far you can keep this fire burning… Luna.”
She turned without waiting for a reply, her boots crunched over the dirt as she walked to a large wooden chest at the far shadowed corner of the training ground. From the darkness she dragged out a peculiar contraption, a stone projectile launcher.
Its frame was a contraption of blackened iron and weather worn wood, the wheels creaking as she rolled it forward. In its bowl-shaped
