"Hold that blade firmly, now. You don't want to lose grip of it mid-combat."
"Aye, you don't say?"
Eofryth fixes his daughter with a stern look, and quietly chided himself for thinking, in a moment of fatherly hubris, that within their first lesson he'd be ready to pass his daughter a keen blade to practice with.
"And your shield's secure?"
It was Ferawyn's turn to fix her father with a stare.
