The Twelfth Moon || ✔️

53. Swift Moon pt. 6

With a stomach full of fresh, grilled rodents, Jerr and I were sparring a bit more, before resuming our journey to Hidden Moon.

"Your footwork is improving quickly, Sari," Jerr noticed, swinging his sword in the air, a motion easy for me to block.

Our swords kept repeating this simple dance, while Jerr kept pushing me back at odd moments, forcing me to adapt my stance.

I leaped forward in answer, forcing Jerr back a few steps. His eyes glittered with enjoyment as he laughed, making the green even more intense than it usually was.

I pushed forward once again, but Jerr kept his footing steady where he was. Our faces inched closer once again, our panting breaths intertwining in a flurry of hot air.

Some sweat was dripping off his forehead, making his face shimmer, while the grin on his face slowly disappeared. Even when sweaty, the waves in his brown hair remained, nearly untouched.

His breath hitched a bit - which I took as a sign to swing my sword in his direction, keeping my eyes locked on his.

He stumbled back and broke the string of tension with it.

"Don't get distracted," I warned him playfully.

"Touché," he whistled as that grin appeared on his face. "In an ideal world I'd perfect your footwork, but I think we might need to get started on the actual sword fighting."

"Why? What's wrong with my sword skills?" I scoffed, swinging the sword in the air in front of me, tracing a dramatic infinity symbol.

"It's very... uncontrolled," he said carefully, but the teasing in his eyes danced away his caution.

"And you're only telling me this now? I've been swinging like this for the past two days!"

"Having a good base of the footing to start with, was more important," he shrugged. "But let's do one quick exercise before we hit the road again. To cool down."

Sweat was dripping down my forehead as well, contrasting against the hotness of my skin. "Okay," I answered, signaling him to give his orders.

He stepped closer to me, his sword pointing at my arm as he said, "Try to think as the sword as an extension of your arm. It's not a tool you hold, it is a weapon that you are. Wield it as if it's a part of you, letting it flow naturally with your body."

He pushed my hand upwards with his sword, examining my grip on the sword. His hand grazed mine as he adjusted a few of my fingers, his warm, callused fingertips rough against my mostly untouched hand. He then stepped back again, and I hadn't noticed how warm his closeness had felt until he stood further away, and the coldness of the midday air circled me again.

He swirled his sword around in the air, making different loops and twirls, never once letting go or altering his grip on the wooden weapon.

"A real sword is much heavier, so it will feel very different than this," he continued, as I lifted my sword and followed his motions. "But it's a good start."

The first few loops went well, and were quite easy, but when Jerr began with more complicated motions, the difficulty of holding on to the sword without altering my grip showed.

"Ah," I grunted as my sword fell on my feet. My foot tapped at the air in a feeble attempt to shake off the sharp pain, before I bent down and picked up that wooden danger once again.

Jerr kept his gaze on me, an approving look glimmering as I refused to let a few bruised toes keep me from training my skills. It was the same look Feytan had given me countless times, but it felt more... intimidating coming from Jerr. And more satisfying to receive such a look from him, to find those green eyes staring at me with content.