Six Months Later
Willow adjusted her grip on the wooden staff, circling Elena in the small training yard behind the healer's cottage.
The morning sun was gentle on her face, and from inside the house, she could hear Evan's soft gurgling as their elderly neighbor watched him.
"Again," Elena commanded, her own staff held at ready. "And this time, don't telegraph your moves. A motherly instinct to protect is powerful, but technique will keep you alive."
Willow struck, faster than she would have thought possible six months ago. Elena parried, but nodded approvingly. "Better. You're getting stronger."
"I have to be," Willow lowered her staff, wiping sweat from her brow. "For Evan."
Her son. Even thinking his name made her heart swell. He was three months old now, with his father's hair but her eyes.
Every day she saw more of Dorian in his features, and it was both a blessing and a curse.
"That's enough for today," Elena said, noting Willow's distraction. "You did well."
