I pushed the women and older pups through the drills until their arms shook and their boots left deep grooves in the mud. Blades flashed under the weak spring sun. Sweat flew.
I moved among them, correcting grips and stances, making them repeat every pivot until it became muscle memory. Lila watched from the edge, her wooden sword clutched tight, eyes tracking every motion like she was memorizing the rhythm.
The session ran longer than usual. I wanted them sharper, faster, ready for whatever the north might send. When the last drill ended, the women stood taller, breathing hard but smiling.
Lila marched into the circle and swung her sword with everything she had. The blade whistled through the air. The women cheered. She looked up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
"Like you," she said.
"Better than me baby," I answered.
