I pushed myself upright, lungs rasping, body still a bit unstable after the last channel, but I could stand again. I took a few breaths to re-center myself, and balance returned.
My gaze moved to the sleek black-steel greataxe that lay on the ground beside me. I bent low, hands hovering over the weapon for a moment as my mind ran through its expectations.
Anticipation was an odd thing, but it somehow made things like this feel better.
My hand gripped the haft, fingers tightening around the wrapped leather and then stood up straight as I lifted it off the ground and onto my shoulders.
The difference was immediate. Just that motion of settling into the weapon's weight...was smoother. More practiced.
I swallowed, bringing my other hand to the handle as I took up the Guard stance and drew the weapon back above my right shoulder.
I let muscle memory move first.
The axe cut air in a downward arc. It was more than just a perfect line. The weapon felt more stable. More...at home.