The summer sun beat down on the training grounds. The air smelled of dry dust and sweet grass.
Twelve-year-old Elowen dropped her wooden sword into the dirt, her chest heaving.
Sweat matted her dark hair to her forehead. Her arms felt like jelly.
"Master..." Elowen wheezed. "I am done... for the day. I can't... anymore."
She collapsed onto the grass. She sprawled out like a starfish.
Her master stood over her. She was a woman in her late twenties.
She wore simple training robes. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp.
The Master sighed loudly. She lowered her tea cup and shook her head.
"You are such a drama queen, Elowen," the Master said.
Her tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation. "We have barely been at it for two hours."
"Two hours of hell!" Elowen cried out. She dropped the sword completely and clasped her hands together in a begging gesture
"Please, Master," she whimpered. "My arms are going to fall off. Do you want a student with no arms?"
