For the next couple of days, Daryl decided that he would wait some time before letting Mallory use the sword again. He noticed how exhausted she was when she came to the workshop after running with Grace, and he figured that it would probably be best for her to take it easy since she was training with her, too.

Although Mallory was eager to go back to using the sword after having her revelation, she understood that she should not be overexerting herself. With that in mind, she went through with carrying the wood up and down the stairs and climbing the log afterwards. As she went through the training, though, her mind raced with possibilities as to how she could incorporate her whole being into her swordsmanship.

When it was time for her to face Daryl again, she attacked using the force of her full body, as opposed to only her arms. She managed to push Daryl back a few times, but her techniques were still off. Even when Daryl looked like he was wide open, he was always one step ahead of her, ready to block all of her attacks.

She did not have much luck chopping the logs, either. She tried using her whole body with each swing, but all it did was exhaust her faster than usual. There was no significant difference in how much she could cut with her swings. It was discouraging and frustrating at first, but she knew it was only her first go at it. With time, she was sure she would improve.

Mallory continued her races against Grace, too, in the following weeks, finding only minor improvement along the way. Running on her toes was about as awkward as Grace warned it would be on their first day of training, but she kept it up nonetheless in hopes that she would be able to catch up to Grace one day.

On a particularly grueling day, Daryl called for her to fight harder than ever before. They were sparring for about two hours, two hours of Mallory hardly budging him and Daryl knocking her back with his swings. In spite of the fatigue the constant knockbacks caused her, she got back up out of the sand and came at him again, clashing their false weapons once more.

Daryl was not able to keep his weapon still against her force, his arm starting to get tired of fighting against the power she kept throwing at him. However, it was not enough to take him down just yet. With a fierce grunt, he took a step forward and sent her back with a formidable downward swing.

She managed to keep her grip on her sword as she tumbled away into the ground, rolling for about two feet until she came to a halt with her face landing in the sand. At that point, her muscles felt like lead, and it was starting to feel like her giant of a master was invincible. What felt worse than that was the persisting thought that she was just weak. She wanted to stay hopeful, like she had been for years, but getting knocked down and taunted was something she could only tolerate for so long. Laying there in the sand was starting to feel more preferable than going after him anymore.

Daryl squinted at his apprentice sprawled face down in the beach like she actually was dead that time. "Get up!" he barked, holding his sword out firmly. "We're not done yet!"

Mallory had no response. Not only had her body given out on her, but it was beginning to feel like her fighting was futile. In her moment of defeat, her eyes stung, thinking about her father. I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't know how much longer I can do this...

Noticing her lack of response, Daryl lowered his sword to his side and began to think of ways to incite her. You can't give up. I know it's hard, I've been in the same position, but you can't just stop. You're doing better than you think you are. "You think you're done now?" he questioned. "What about your father? Is he no longer worth saving?"

She took a shaky breath at the mention of her father, some tears dripping from her eyelids. It's not that...I just...can't do it...

"You would let him die just because you're tired?" Daryl challenged, his tone harsh and his voice thunderous. "He's rotting at the hands of the one who stole your life from you! Are you just going to accept that? Stand up and fight!"

His words fell on deaf ears. Mallory had already sunk into a self-doubt that she had not felt since the first time she had to climb the log. The corpse she saw in her dreams reappeared in her mind, and she continued to wonder if he was alive. If he's already dead, there's no point to this...

Daryl stared for a moment, realizing that the mere mention of the man was no longer enough to rile her up. He took a deep breath, scowl hard on his face, wondering what it would take for her to get up. If thinking about him isn't enough anymore, then I'll just force her to defend his name. Daryl softened his expression, and continued, "Well then, it seems you've finally come to your senses."

The shift in his tone threw Mallory off, causing her to raise her head slightly. She could tell that he was trying to get her attention some other way. What is he talking about now?

"You've finally realized that he isn't worth saving."

Her heart skipped a beat. It was a short statement, one she knew was only meant to rile her up, but she immediately felt in twinge in her veins.

"I don't think he is," Daryl admitted with a shrug. "What kind of man offers himself in a bet, knowing he'd be leaving his daughter behind? He's better off a slave."

Mallory's heart began to beat against her chest like a galloping horse, the twinge in her veins growing into boiling blood. Her free hand balled into a fist, a clump of sand in her grasp. In spite of her physical pain, she managed to hike up one knee, almost ready to get back on her feet.

That's it. It's time we light that fire again, girl. With all the venom he could muster, he hissed, "It's no wonder your mother left him."

"Shut up!" Mallory screamed, bolting to her feet and tossing the sand toward his face.

Daryl held up an arm to shield his eyes. Having only a split second to react, despite how far she was from him initially, he raised his sword to block her attack. There was so much strength in her assault that she pushed him back over half a foot before he came to a halt. When his vision cleared, he looked down at his apprentice, the snarl on her mouth and rage in her eyes reminding him of a feral animal. His sword shook against hers. It was the hardest he ever had to keep her from pushing it out of his grasp. This is it. All that training's paying off for you now. Give me everything you've got!

In her fury, she did not fail to notice that Daryl was struggling against her, so she pulled her sword back to go for an even stronger swing. It was like the lead in her limbs had dissipated just to keep her master from muddying her father's name any further. With a step forward, she slashed towards him and yelled, "My mother was the one who left us behind!"

Daryl's eyes widened at the speed her sword came at him, and, for the first time since he fought Garrison the Gargantuan, he used both hands on his weapon to block the attack. Their swords clashed, Daryl with a better, steadier grip to hold against the girl's inflamed might.

Tears streamed down the girl's face, her animalistic countenance still glowering, as she continued, "He did everything he could just to keep us alive! Even if he didn't bet himself, we would've starved anyway!" With a shrill grunt, she placed a foot behind her to lean forward and slash against Daryl's weapon, knocking it towards his side. Seeing the opening, she went for a jab to his abdomen, but he was quick enough to slash at her sword. The blow was powerful, but she managed to hold onto her weapon and swung back at him to cross false blades once more. "If it wasn't for Eagle Eye," she continued, her tone softer, "I never would've lost him... It's his fault he's gone!"

Daryl's expression remained unmoved. "Your father was a fool," he persisted. "He shouldn't have been betting his money in the first place. Maybe if he wasn't so lazy and just got a job—"

"You're wrong!" Mallory interrupted, gritting her teeth as she used every ounce of will in her body to try and force him back. Fighting against the strength of both of his arms proved to be even more of a challenge, though, and the man hardly budged. "He couldn't find any work," Mallory exhaled, desperately trying to either knock his sword away or push him backward, "people didn't want him to work for them, because of how he looked..." She met eyes with her master. It was subtle, but there was an empathetic air in his gaze. She took advantage of his moment of weakness to step back and take another, slashing lunge toward him.

Her attack caused Daryl to stumble back slightly before regaining his footing. Such ferocity!

He did not leave her any openings, but she pounced towards him in hopes that his stumble may have disoriented him. Without surprise, he blocked her attack again, and she was starting to feel the effects of her earlier fatigue under the might of his full strength. She furrowed her brow, her eyes still leaking, and continued, "He wasn't a fool. He was smart!" She pulled away and aimed lower to throw him off guard, but she was too slow, and he blocked it.

Mallory panted, her adrenaline rush wearing thin and memories of her father writing scrupulously in a room filled with piles of papers. They were all scribbled with random numbers and arrows, along with some phrases Mallory could not read at the time. In her pursuit to defend her father, though, she finally understood what all that work was for. "I didn't understand what he was doing back then," she started, "but he spent so much time playing the games and losing just so he could track down all the patterns from each one. He wrote them all down and memorized them. He did all that work so he could finally start winning, so he could provide for us! A fool couldn't have done it! Neither could a lazy person!"

"Then it seems he wasted his talent," Daryl hissed, his eyes wide with menace and mockery. "All that work just to lose everything he held dear. Face it. Your father was a failure."

"No, he wasn't!" she screamed, another surge of adrenaline pushing her to fight back. She pushed her sword upwards, managing to knock Daryl's sword away from her. He held onto it with one hand, holding it in the air and leaving a major opening for Mallory's next attack. She wasted no time to strike, knowing there was no way he would be fast enough to block her again.

Her weapon came too fast for him to block it, so he threw his head back along with his upper body, effectively ducking under her slash. The weapon swiped over his face about half an inch above his nose. If he reacted a moment later, he would have been hit. Not only that, but this was the first time she ever had him in a position where he needed to dodge. Alright, let's have at it then.

Mallory nearly lost her balance after missing, bringing the tip of her weapon down in the sand as she hunched over.

"Compose yourself!" Daryl ordered, grabbing his sword with both hands preparing to counterattack.

Her head shot up towards him as his sword came down in her direction. She sprang out of the way, rolling into a somersault behind him. Hearing the sound of his wooden blade hitting the sand confirmed to her that she managed to dodge him. Shocked at her own agility, she came back on her feet a bit discombobulated, and then she heard some stomping in the sand and realized her master was coming after her. She whipped herself around and threw her sword up in a horizontal position, bracing herself for her master's downward swing. His weapon collided with hers with tremendous force, yet somehow, she was able to block it without getting knocked down. The backlash in her arms was intense, though, causing her to wince while she struggled against his assault.

"You want to fight, don't you?" Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes as he looked down on her. "You want to show me how much your father matters to you, yes?"

Mallory spurted out a feeble grunt yet managed to knock the swordsman's weapon away with a slash and caused him to step back a little. She stood back upright and held her sword out ahead of herself, facing off against her master. She straightened her expression into a solemn glare and nodded in response.

Daryl tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. He flared his nostrils and ordered, "Then give me everything you've got!"