A sword whistled past her ear as Jaylen rolled across marshy ground. The watery moss clung to her shoulder as she returned to her standing position. The water soaked her boots, making them feel like rocks tied to her feet. There were slowing her down too much to have a chance in this fight.

      She raised her dagger to deflect away the next strike from the curved blade, rolling away once again to shake her waterlogged shoes off. She grabbed one in her hand and threw it at her opponent, who sliced the leather boot in half with his sword. She used his distraction to slash him across the thigh, beneath his guard.

      He yelped in pain, jerking away and coordinating his stance once again. Her foot was already at his face, and there was a sickening crack as his nose snapped beneath the heel of her bare foot.

      Jaylen deflected his next swing, not in the least delayed by the previous smashing of his face, but the force sent her reeling backward. She might be quicker than him, but she was not stronger.

       Her opponent was a man abnormally tall, with brutishly broad shoulders. A thick, black beard covered his crooked and bleeding nose, blending in with his dark, untrimmed hair. His skin was brown in color, undoubtedly from hours upon hours working beneath the hot sun, green eyes glowing with a hint of annoyance at his smashed nose. His hands were big, strong enough to pull a small tree from the ground. He was renowned for his strength, skills, and tenacity all throughout the town of Nerid, but Jaylen had no fear of him.

      His next blow she was sure to dodge, rolling behind him for a stab in the back. His foot swiped behind him without him so much as turning around, and she tripped, falling flat on her back. She wheezed as the breath left her lungs, the sticky swamp water soaking her brown hair and making it cling to the sides of her face. She found the tip of her opponent's sword at her throat and groaned.

       "Never assume your opponent has one way of battle," the brutish man snarled into her face, spraying her cheeks with saliva. She made a face. "Just because one might be good with a sword does not mean they can't fight with their hands. Just because you've gotten behind their blade does not mean you've gotten behind their defense!"

       "Ruskin, let the girl get up. You're making her ruin her clothes!" A woman's voice called behind them, but Jaylen knew better than to let her gaze slip off of the man. Last time she had distracted her attention, he had caught her in the eye with a large fist, scolding that an enemy will take advantage of every distraction, every moment of hesitation. Because of that blow that still left a painful memory, Jaylen did not relax her body nor take her eyes from his.

      The sword was removed from her throat and belted, and his large, rough hand was extended to her. Jaylen took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Ruskin dusted his scarred hands off on his pants, then nursed his broken nose as he turned to face the woman who had called.

      Jaylen grinned wickedly, recognizing her opportunity. She moved as fast as lightning, swiping a foot beneath his in the same motion she took his sword from his belt. Ruskin lost his balance and fell on his side, finding the sword blade against his throat.

      Jaylen crouched on top of him, grinning broadly as she crowed, "The enemy will take advantage of every distraction!"

      "Don't spare the soldier who is stronger than yourself." Ruskin surged upward, catching the blade in his hand and tearing it from her own. The sword spun through the air as Jaylen found herself defenseless against the man.

      "Well, I wasn't going to kill you," she grumbled, and he considered this. Then he gave a satisfied nod.

      "Fine. We're done for now. And go find your shoes."

       Jaylen glanced back at the spot she had taken her shoes off. She groaned as she realized they had sunk into the mush of the swamp, then recalled he had sliced her other boot in half. "You destroyed my shoe, no point trialing for the other."

      Ruskin had already begun to move off towards the woman, and Jaylen followed with her dagger strapped to her waist.

       The woman was on a much drier part, standing on solid ground. She was brushing back strands of her short brown hair to keep them from almond eyes. Her face brightened as she saw them nearing her, then her eyes widened. She dropped her bag of item she had recently purchased and strode towards Ruskin.

      Jaylen rolled her eyes as the woman cupped her hands around Ruskin's face, "Ruskin! Your nose!"

        "Just a graze, Iva, it's fine." He attempted to brush her off.

       "A graze? Your nose is bent all the way to the left! Jaylen, you have to be more careful with your father!"

     "He kicked me!" Jaylen began defensively, but Ruskin rested a hand on her head with a snort.

       "She did good. It was my own fault, and the last thing I want is her to go easy on me. Nothing will kill you faster than hesitation, so that is not how I will train her." He spoke in his low, gravelly voice with an adamant tone, and Jaylen nodded in agreement.

        Iva placed a hand on her forehead, shaking her head. "Ever since she could walk you've been drilling her. I've never seen a woman so in love with the heat of battle, and I blame you."

       "There's nothing wrong with a little violence from time to time," Ruskin pulled his wife to his side to grin down at her. "Besides, now we have no reason to worry when she goes places alone."

       Iva swayed her head again, but now she was smiling. "I'm not complaining, I can promise you that. I'm just saying she shouldn't smash people's noses in."

       "He was begging for it," Jaylen decided to add, and her father ruffled her hair with a snort. "I almost beat him this time!"

       "Of course not," Ruskin rumbled, his large hand still over his bleeding nose.He pinched the top as he leaned forward, allowing the drops of red flick onto the grass. He noticed his wife's frown and waved it away with a hand, "Just a bit sore."

       Iva planted her hands on her hips, opening her mouth to tell him that a broken nose would be more than just "sore", but Jaylen pulled the forgotten bag of purchased goods onto her back.

       "Just heal him, it's not like he's stuck with a bent nose forever."

      Iva grabbed his chin with her small hand, pulling him down as she grumbled an incantation under her breath. Ruskin grinned as the blood stopped, but the grin turned to a wince as his nose cracked back into place. "Thank the heavens I married a mage, eh?"

         "Or so help me you'd still be missing fingers," Iva waggled her own fingers at him as a reminder of an old hunting trip he had taken her on. According to the story her mother loved to tell, that hunting trip had been what brought the two together. It was an eventful tale, and Jaylen never got tired of hearing it.

      "Any bruises or bumps you need patched?" Iva gripped Jaylen's shoulders as they began to walk down the dusty little road to their house.

       "Well, I have this cut on my arm..."

      Ruskin pulled his wife away from her as Iva made an attempt to touch the scratch. "You don't gotta heal everything. She ought to develop a pain tolerance or she's never gonna get anywhere."

       "Honestly, Ruskin, you act like she's going to war!" Iva brushed him off, but didn't make another attempt to heal her daughter's scratch. "Now, Jaylen, I expect you to help me with dinner."

        "About that... I want to practice a dual defense..." Jaylen began, but her mother shook her head. The look on her face invited no argument, so the girl just finished with a nod. She wasn't a fan of cooking, but her father was almost as insistent that she learned the skills for cooking as he was about fighting.

      The house Jaylen knew so well was a small cottage, built from stone. Her father had put it together himself, moving each massive rock into place with ease. He had cemented them together into a dome that made up the small house, and barriers inside marked the four rooms- main bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and Jaylen's room. The kitchen also doubled as a weapon's reserve, which Iva wasn't very fond of.

       The gray stone looked cold and desolate from outside, but the inside of the house was warm and comfortable. Rugs lined a wooden floor, furniture and other items decorating the house like any other. A massive fireplace in the kitchen kept the twisted stone pleasantly warm, and overall, it was a house Jaylen loved. It was all she knew, but she liked to say she couldn't image herself liking any other sleeping place better.

       Iva was bustling in the kitchen with Ruskin, who was mirroring his wife's movements. Though he was an outstanding fighter and quick to adapt, cooking was far from his strong suit. Perhaps this was why he encouraged Jaylen so much to learn. She smiled as she watched her father expertly slice potatoes with a knife, then falter.

       "Then you salt them," she prompted, earning herself a glare from her father. Ruskin was the last person to admit he was less than perfect at remembering each step to any recipe, and his defiance at his inability made her laugh.

        "Ruskin, the water's boiling over," Iva said lightly. There was a slight smile hiding in her eyes as she kneaded the dough for bread. She knew as well as Jaylen how annoyed he could get in the kitchen, and kept every reminder calm and serious.

       Jaylen had also seen the water boiling out of the pot and watched in amusement as Ruskin quickly pulled the boiling pot with his bare hands into the sink. It hissed like a startled snake, and Ruskin looked over at her.

       "I see that smirk on yer face, ya punk!"

        Jaylen hastily rearranged her face into an innocent expression, staring intently at the ceiling as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

       "Ruskin, the fire's running low. Would you mind getting some firewood? We're out in the stash." Iva gestured to the crackling fire. It didn't nearly look like it was getting low, so Jaylen guessed it was a ploy to get him out of the kitchen.

       "Oh thank heavens," Ruskin brushed a hand back through his hair to clear the black from his eyes.

       "What was that?"

       "I'm on it!" Ruskin moved quickly around the table to head for the door. He pushed it open and Jaylen decided to follow him into the graying sky. She found him with his hefty axe, cleaving it through pieces of wood as if they were paper.

       "Your Mom need any help?" Ruskin grunted as he brought the axe down again.

       "She's just finishing the bread while the potatoes boil," Jaylen sat down on a creaky wooden stool that sat not far from the pile of lumbar stacked against the house. "Hey, Dad?"

       "Yeah?" He pulled a piece of lumber onto the platform, lifting his massive axe in one hand.

      "Will I ever be like you?"

       "Well, I hope you can rise above my cooking skills." He brought the axe down, and it cracked the wood clean in half.

       Jaylen rested her hands in her lap, smiling faintly. "I meant in battle."

        Ruskin rested the tip of his axe against the ground, leaning his elbow against the hilt as he studied her. His green eyes glimmered in the firelight from the window, making them stand out more than normal. "No. I don't think so."

       Her smile faded, and she dropped her gaze. "Oh."

       Ruskin was quiet for a moment, then sat down on the lumber platform, his axe leaning against the side of the house. He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, his fingers folding in front of him. "Fighting is not just swinging fists. Tell me, when an experienced warrior goes to battle, what weapon does he pick?"

       Jaylen arched an eyebrow. "Is this a trick question?"

       He flicked a hand, "Give it a go."

       Jaylen paused a moment to consider the question, then decided with "Whichever he's best with."

        "Exactly. Say he's small and light on his feet. Can't hold an axe, but he has keen vision and a steady hand. He's a bowman. And there's someone else. Surefooted and quick, hand to eye coordination is superb. His weapon of choose is the sword. Two people, very different. Is either any less talented?"

        Jaylen understood what he was saying at the tension in her muscles softened. "You're saying I'm not like you, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing."

        "You use knives, I use swords and axes. Is there anything more to say?" He spun his axe in his hand, then stood again to continue slicing wood.

        "Actually, I can use an axe, arrows, swords, and daggers. Courtesy of your relentless badgering about how I might not be able to choose my own weapons for any given battle," Jaylen reminded him, and he slammed his axe down into another chunk of wood.

       "Take these to your mother," he gestured to the pile of splintered wood. "And Jaylen."

       "Hm?" She paused in her gathering of the wood, glancing up at him.

       "No one can make you doubt yourself except for yourself." Ruskin noticed her slightly bemused expression and muttered, "You looked defeated when I said you weren't like me. You let me put down your abilities because you thought I didn't believe you were good enough. Only you know the extent of your strengths, so don't ever listen to those fools who say you're not capable."

      "Alright," she gave a small nod as she stood, her arms full of wood pieces. "I won't."