The training room was quiet, save for the heavy sounds of wood clashing and feet stomping on the wooden floor. The dojo was a bit filled today since everyone had probably calmed from the war.
Leo stood in the center of the floor, his feet shoulder-width apart. For the first time in a week, he didn't feel like the world was trying to slide out from under him. He didn't fight the tilt of the ship. When the floor dipped to the left, he let his knees bend, shifting his weight naturally, his center of gravity staying low and locked.
Taren stood five feet away, his wooden blade held in a relaxed but lethal guard. He looked tired. The week of constant sparring had taken a toll on him, too, but his eyes were sharp.
"Again," Taren said.
