Daryl led Mallory through the workshop to the back right end, which led to huge double doors with the symbol of the snake's bared fangs covering both sides symmetrically. The swordsman pushed it open to guide them into the fresh, evening air. He urged Mallory forward ahead of him, with an assertive push. Before them were three flights of stairs that led down to a small beach. As they descended the first flight, Mallory gazed at about twenty different swordsmen sparring with one another in pairs. Most of them used wooden swords, while some of the older swordsmen used their real swords. Hearing the metallic clanks and seeing the close calls among these veteran swordsmen deeply worried Mallory, her eyes widening with a loud gasp upon witnessing a man with greying brown hair get slashed just past his left eye. To her relief, the man put a hand up to his partner as a signal to stop, and his partner sheathed his sword.

"Eyes forward," Daryl ordered, "it's getting dark. You'll trip if you get distracted."

Mallory nodded, keeping her eyes down and watching her every step. She could not help but notice how loudly the boards were creaking under each of Daryl's steps behind, so she even started worrying about the stability of the stairs they walked on, picturing Daryl falling through and breaking his neck on the beach below.

"This is where you'll be doing your sword training from now on," Daryl explained as the two of them reached the bottom of the steps.

Mallory felt the warmth of the sand under her feet even in her turn shoes. Now that they were on the ground, she took the opportunity to look around at the training set up and the rest of the swordsmen. There were towering, thick-looking logs placed upright on several platforms on the beach, some with dents made from getting hacked at. The platforms were made with planks that grooved downwards at their centers, keeping the logs tightly in place. Upon seeing a swordsman strike through one of the logs, the blade stopping about halfway through and the young man trying to yank it back out, Mallory surmised that the scattered lumber all over the beach was the result of the men having sliced through numerous logs in the past. As she expected, the men greeted her with looks of confusion and disgust.

The older man that got cut near his eye from earlier had taken a seat near the stairs to rest, and he looked in their direction. After making eye contact with the two of them, he grunted and turned his gaze away, shaking his head. "What's Rod doing to this guild?" he grumbled.

Mallory looked down, hurt by their reactions and the old man's words.

"Don't pay them any attention," Daryl commanded, placing a gentle hand on her back and directing her away towards a fence made out of wooden pikes.

There was a built-in gate in the fence, and Daryl pushed it open for Mallory to go through. Before she did, she looked up at Daryl and noticed there was a similar hurt in his eyes, one that he tried to mask with that perpetual scowl, but she knew that look well enough to recognize it on his face.

Irritation spread on his countenance when he noticed her staring at him. "Well? Go on."

Mallory nodded and went through the gate, Daryl following behind and closing it behind him. Within the fence were a few logs set upright on platforms, just like the ones outside, but more notably, there was a rack that stretched from near the shoreline to another gate that held about fifty different swords. Most of the rack was empty, despite there still being many different swords, and the ones that were there were sloppily strewn across the rack in crooked positions. There were also a few wooden swords that Mallory recognized some of the swordsmen had been using outside the area she and Daryl were in. Near the shoreline, there was a large cart that was about halfway full of logs that were laid down horizontally.

Daryl walked up to the rack, examining the available swords while Mallory watched, and he picked up a sword that with a curved blade about two feet in length. The hilt was about a quarter of the blade's length, long enough to hold with two hands. Daryl held the center of the hilt with one hand, raising the sword in the air and squinting his eyes upon further inspection. With a single, downward nod, he lowered the sword and confirmed, "This will do." He walked back over to his apprentice and held it out to her.

Mallory observed it herself for a brief second and took it from him. She lowered the blade so that she could look down on it and held it so that it was horizontal in front of her. The sword was not heavy, but the blade's length made it a little hard for Mallory to balance it in her grasp. There were two distinct craters that she noticed on the blade's edge, and the silver shine that she could tell it once had was fading. On top of all that, the base of the blade looked crooked at the top of the hilt. Mallory frowned and held it upright, pursing her lips quizzically.

Her inspection was cut short by the sound of Daryl knocking on one of the logs. She turned her attention to him, who was leaning on the lumber with his arms crossed. "You'll be working on your sword arm with this."

Mallory examined the log he had gestured towards. The log was comparable to a tree trunk, sturdy and perfectly intact. She glanced at her own arms, which were like twigs in comparison, and began to worry about what Daryl was insinuating.

Daryl slowly pushed himself off of the log with his shoulder and tilted his head towards it. "Go on. Try cutting through it."

She exhaled and gave him an incredulous look. "With this?" she asked, glancing at the shabby weapon in her grasp.

"What else?"

Mallory flared her nostrils with irritation and fixed her gaze on her target. With a couple of deep breaths, she gripped the weapon harder in her right hand. She walked up to the log, Daryl taking a few steps back behind her, and with all the strength she could muster, she swung the weapon to the side of the log. On its impact, the only thing that really appeared damaged was the wielder herself. The hilt pushed back on the palm of her hand with uncomfortable friction, and a twinge of pain jut through her whole arm in response to her effort. She winced and groaned quietly through clenched teeth. When she lowered the blade, she was not surprised to see that she had only left a small, barely visible mark against the dark wood. She huffed and looked back at Daryl with a pout on her lip.

"That was awful," Daryl observed.

Mallory shook her head. "There's just no way I can cut through it!"

"Stop complaining and figure out a way to improve."

The girl sighed and looked down on herself. "I...I'm too weak."

"You think I don't know that already?"

Mallory looked up at her mentor, unsure of what he was expecting from her.

He sighed loudly and dropped his arms to his sides. "Don't expect me to give you the answers all the time, but for starters, why don't you try fixing your stance?"

The young apprentice glanced at her legs. They were close together, parallel to one another. She tried to think back to how Daryl was standing when he held a sword to her throat or, more recently, when he held it to Liam's throat. It was hard to recall, because all she could think about was how antsy she felt both times, and she was mainly concentrating on the weapon itself. Not only that, but Daryl's legs are always covered by his robes, which made it even harder to know how he was standing. Despite the difficulty she was having, she tried her best to remember the scenario between him and Liam, picturing the way his robe was spread around the lower half of his body. Thinking about that, she then remembered that his left foot was planted firmly ahead of his right. Mallory straightened her lips and set her legs apart, planting her right foot behind her. She looked to her master for confirmation.

Daryl kept the same, stern expression upon seeing her change her stance, and he remarked, "Close, but you're still forgetting something important."

Mallory exhaled through her nose and looked ahead at the weapon she held. It still felt awkward in her grip, subtly swaying back and forth in her quiet struggle to keep it balanced. She was compelled to complain about the sword itself some more, thinking that she could keep it straight if it were not so worn, but she knew Daryl would come up with some kind of retort for her anyway. Her hand was on the center of the hilt, just like how Daryl held it earlier, just like how he held his own sword. What else am I doing wrong...?Her gaze then drifted towards the thin arm stretched out before her and tried to picture herself in Daryl's perspective. Instead of seeing her own, skinny arm, she pictured Daryl's longer, muscular arm that was massive in comparison. She examined the hilt, which she had earlier noticed was long enough to be held with two hands. That is when something almost completely obvious dawned on her: the force of her swing will be stronger using both hands. With a confident nod, she placed her left hand below her right, and looked back up at Daryl to see how he would react.

To her relief, he nodded. "Good. Try it again, now."

Turning her attention back to her target, she let out another breath and psyched herself up for another swing. She took a sharp breath through her nostrils and swung with all her might using both arms that time, unintentionally missing the spot she had hit previously, and made a new mark above that one. She actually felt the blade make a shallow dent that time, and the pain she felt from the impact was not quite as bad, but this time she did feel it in both arms, so she did not wince any less. With a careful yank, the blade was freed from the log, and once again, she looked up to Daryl for his approval.

He carefully examined the longer, deeper mark she made in the wood. "That's better," Daryl noted, "but still a bit sloppy. Your form will improve over time. I just wanted to see how good your sword arm is for now."

"How come you only use one arm, Daryl?" Mallory asked.

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "You don't address me like that anymore, remember? We've started your training."

Mallory slumped her shoulders and repeated the question, "Master, how come you only use one arm?"

"Because..." Daryl shifted his attention to a log a few feet off to his right. He tilted his head in its direction, motioning for Mallory to observe. His apprentice watched as he marched up to the sturdy log, which had apparently been completely unbothered, being void of any scratches or dents. Daryl stopped on his left foot, his right stomped on the sand behind him, and he grabbed the hilt of his sword. In a single, swift motion, the swordsman unsheathed his blade, swinging it at the center of the log. The high pitched, metallic clank of the sword clashed with the lower sound of the lumber getting chopped. It happened so quickly that Mallory was only able to see the sword after it had made its way through the log. Daryl looked back at his apprentice's astonished expression, and he slid his sword back in its scabbard. He walked to the side of the log which, despite being cut, had stayed in place. Facing Mallory, he elbowed the top half of the log and tumbled down onto the beach, causing the sand to jump up upon its collision. Mallory observed the fallen half of the log, a perfectly straight cut revealing the light brown, almost white inner bark of the log. She looked back up at her master, who was completely unfazed by his own effortless display of strength and skill. Then, he continued his previous statement with, "...one arm is all I need for this."

Mallory fawned mildly at his performance for a moment, staring back and forth between the severed log and the swordsman.

"You're not going to make substantial progress only using half your strength," Daryl explained, "so you must always use both hands to hold your sword, like I used to. By the end of your training, you'll be able to cut through one of these logs with one swing, but with both arms. It took me around ten years or so to be able to do it with one arm, long after I was done with my initial training."

How much stronger would his swing be with both arms...?

Daryl walked back over to the log Mallory had hacked at, and he felt the depth of the dent with his index finger. "Hm, I suppose it's not a bad start for someone your size." He turned his gaze down to Mallory's and continued, "Regarding your size, that's what we'll be working on before you try your hand at cutting through the logs again."

The girl raised an eyebrow, initially thinking that Daryl was referring to her height. He can make me taller?

Daryl sighed and rolled his eyes, noticing her puzzled expression, explaining with, "Your muscles. With strength training comes a bigger physique, obviously."

With a slow, upward nod, her expression straightened, and she did feel a little dumb for not realizing that herself. She looked at her arms again, and as much as she wanted them to get to a fuller, healthier size, she felt somewhat apprehensive about how the training would affect her appearance. Am I gonna look like a boy?

Daryl held out his hand and motioned for her to give him the sword. She handed it to him, making sure she gave it to him the same way he had given it to her with the blade upwards, not quite sure what he expected next from her. He walked over to the rack and put the sword back where he found it, but he made sure it was upright and neat opposed to the rest of them. The swordsman started back over to his apprentice. "Here," Daryl said, gesturing toward the half of the log he had sliced off, "pick it up."

Mallory's eyes got big and she looked down at the large hunk of wood off to her right. If it had been set upright, the half of the log would have been about as tall as she was. She glanced at Daryl, but quickly looked back when she thought about the likelihood that questioning him or even giving him another confused look would just irritate him further. The girl hardened her expression and breathed in, bracing herself for her next task. Mallory stepped forward and crouched down, wrapping her frail arms around the circumference of the log. With all her might, she made her attempt, grunting through clenched teeth and raising the log up slowly. She had barely lifted it off of the ground and had already broken a sweat, a warm bead rapidly making its way down her left temple. Some loose ends of her hair fell toward her face as she bent over, which obstructed her vision. Her body began to shake under the weight of the log, holding it in the same position about an inch off of the ground. Struggling to find the strength to lift it higher, she felt the urge to gripe about it being too much for her. Then, her sentiment soon turned to shame when she thought about her father, and how her being unable to get stronger would lead to him being stuck as a slave until she could. That thought, along with the weight of the log, caused her to pant and feel desperate. She wanted to lift the log enough so that she could effectively carry it, but she was too weak.

Daryl noticed Mallory's straining, and how she was lifting with her back. He could tell she was genuinely trying, but her positioning seemed to be doing more harm than good. "Drop it," he ordered, "that's enough."

She willingly let go, the lumber hitting the sand with a light thud. Wiping a bit of sweat off of her forehead with the back of her hand, she turned back to Daryl, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry Dar—I mean, Master."

"Just step aside," he demanded, pulling out his sword.

Mallory's eyes widened and she hurriedly stepped away from him. Daryl stepped towards the log and raised his sword in the air. With a forceful, downward strike, he cut off about a quarter of the log and calmly kicked it upwards and away from the other portion of the log. The portion he had kicked rolled up and landed flat on the sand. Once again, it appeared to be a flawless cut, straight through without any visible slants.

Daryl put his sword back in his scabbard and stepped back. He looked over at Mallory and ordered, "Try it again now. And do it better this time."

"Do it better...?" Mallory contemplated what he meant by that, and she realized it may have had something to do with her stance, like earlier. With that in mind, she walked to the shorter log, hoping the extra weight cut off would make lifting it more manageable. She thought about how she tried to pick up the log earlier, her back was hunched over, and lifting the log put an uncomfortable strain on it. Then, she vaguely remembered a time a few years ago when she was alone on the streets of Ironmaw, in which she was watching two men move something heavy into a shop, one man telling the other to lift with his legs. Recalling that moment, and Daryl telling her to lift it better, she figured that she should focus on bending her knees instead of her back. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she bent her knees, making sure to keep her back straight, and started to pick up the log again.

Daryl's eyebrows raised upon her improved stance. She figured that out, too, huh? She catches on pretty fast. It shouldn't surprise me. This is the same girl who kept herself alive for eight years.

The weight of the log was, of course, much lighter than earlier, but it was still heavy for a girl her size. The strain was on her legs that time, yet she knew that was better than having it on her spine. She was able to lift the log much higher than what she had earlier, holding her breath while trying to keep it steady. Her legs straightened as she was finally able to hold it firmly against her chest, half proud of herself for being able to lift the hunk of wood, half ashamed that she had to have it chopped down further to make that much progress.

Pivoting backwards to halfway face her master, she looked up to him for some sort of approval. He nodded once, and said, "Get it over your shoulder now."

Mallory sighed with exhaustion. She repositioned her arms around the log so that she could use her right palm to force it upward. She bared her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, starting to sizzle out a long grunt and sweat continuing to drip down from the top of her forehead. The log almost slipped out from under her hold as she tried to haul it over her right shoulder, but she nearly dug her fingers into the thick bark to keep that from happening. Her grunt ended with a loud pant when she finally got the log over her shoulder after about fifteen seconds. It felt wobbly above her palms, so she wrapped her right arm around it to keep it balanced, while her left palm stayed under to support its weight as it rested on her shoulder.

Daryl examined the girl's grimace as she held the lumber over her shoulder, and then he walked to the gate from which they had entered the area. He opened it gestured for Mallory to follow. Mallory exhaled and started to walk forward, trying to control her shaky breathing. Walking forward was not as bad as she thought it would be, though she could still tell it was not going to feel too great in the morning. Daryl stood against the gate as Mallory cautiously made her way out, the log wobbling slightly over her shoulder. The swordsman walked ahead of her after she stepped aside for him, and he gazed at the stairs that they had walked down from earlier. He pointed at them and said, "I want you to go up and down that first flight of stairs. Do it until I tell you to stop."

"Wha...?" Mallory breathed out, sizing up the stairs and feeling flabbergasted by what he was expecting from her. She started to shake her head, counting almost twenty steps she would have to go up and down while carrying the log, but then she thought about her father again. The more she doubted herself, and the more she tried to think something was impossible for her, the more time she would be wasting that could be spent improving. She needed to get strong, however Daryl wanted her to, for the sake of her father. The girl braced herself and steadied the log, and then marched forward. She turned left to reach the base of the steps. Nostrils flared, she placed a foot on the first stair, and then hoisted the other foot onto the second. She gritted her teeth, the log continuing to wobble with her imbalanced stance on the stairs. With another breath, she took a couple more steps, her legs starting to ache and her arms getting tired. No matter how much she tried to keep the log from shaking, though, with each step, it would become unsteady, threatening to throw her off completely. Nerves began to infiltrate her being when she started getting scared about making it halfway up just to fall backwards and end up getting hurt. She gulped and kept forward, though, trying not to think about how high she was getting with the heavy lumber she carried.

Daryl watched his young apprentice take on the challenge with grit, glad that he was right about her willingness to do what it takes to complete her training. The man who had grumbled about them earlier walked up to Daryl's side, dabbing his wounded temple with a brown hand towel. He had a harsh glare on his face, watching the girl take the log upstairs and beginning to make her way back down. Daryl looked at him and asked, "You got something to say?"

His eyes shifted to Daryl and he grunted. "I get that you're high ranking and all, so you think you can do what you want," the old man started, "but don't you think you're pushing it with this one? I figured you'd be partial for a colored one, but it had to be a girl, too? Don't you think one's enough? People aren't gonna take us seriously anymore!"

"With old fashioned idiots like you, I doubt they will," Daryl retorted.

The old man stopped patting his head and snarled, squaring up to Daryl. "Wanna say that again?"

"You're hard of hearing," Daryl mocked. "Apologies, I didn't realize you were already at that age."

He growled and reached for his sword strapped to his back.

"Hey, hey!" a younger swordsman called, walking up to them and putting his hands on the old man. "Just take it easy, Dad. They're not bothering anyone!"

"Hmph!" the old man grunted, shoving his son's grasp off of his shoulder and walking away with a pout.

The younger man sighed, looking up to Daryl with an embarrassed smile. "He is rather old fashioned, isn't he? I was like him not too long ago, actually, until I got utterly humiliated by Grace the Gleeful, that is!"

Daryl looked down at him, crossing his arms and wondering what the story behind that encounter was, but he looked back up at his apprentice, who was struggling to make her second trip back up the stairs.

The young man looked up along with Daryl and crossed his arms. "I do have to admit," he started, "it is a bit strange seeing another colored person around here."

Daryl audibly exhaled in exasperation, knowing the young man meant well, but still uninterested in what he had to say.

Mallory made her way back to the top of the first flight, taking a moment to breathe and then turned around to get ready for the walk downward. She looked to her right to see Daryl and the young man watching her, finding it weird that the young man was standing in almost the exact same way as Daryl, both their arms crossed, and heads raised. Then, she readjusted the log and started back down the steps, her shoulder really starting to feel the effects of the added weight.

"Still pressing on, though!" the young man acknowledged. "You must be proud, huh?"

"I expected her to be determined," Daryl explained, "so I'm definitely not there yet."

"I see..."

Daryl glanced at him and realized how similarly he was standing. Daryl dropped his arms to his sides and scowled at him. The young man noticed Daryl's reaction and chuckled. He held out a hand to Daryl and said, "Name's Jeremy by the way! I've admired you for some time, y'know!"

Daryl reluctantly shook his hand and replied with, "It appears that way."

Mallory got back down to the base of the stairs, almost out of breath and looking to Daryl to see if hopefully he would ask her to stop. He glanced down at her, releasing his grip on Jeremy's hand and tilted his head to the stairs. Mallory huffed, knowing that motion was meant to be a signal for her to do it again. She straightened up her posture and started marching her way back up the steps, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"So..." Jeremy continued, "any particular reason why you chose her, sir?"

Daryl watched the girl struggle, huffing and puffing up those stairs and trying to balance the log at the same time. In spite of her body's resistance to it, the sweating, the panting, and the wavering, she continued to trudge forward, her eyes glowing with perseverance. If it had not been for her father, Daryl was sure she would have given up by then. He turned back to Jeremy and answered his question with, "Because she's fighting for someone. That's how I know she'll take this seriously."

Jeremy nodded. "Hm, interesting. Well, I'm sure under your guidance, she'll make a fine addition to the guild one day!"

After trudging her way up to the last step, she took a moment to catch her breath and looked down at her two observers. Jeremy caught her eye, and he smiled and nodded at her. Mallory stared down at him for a moment, a little surprised by his welcoming expression.There really are nice people in this guild, huh?

"Eyes forward, Mallory," Daryl called up to her.

The sternness in Daryl's booming voice startled her for a second, granted it had been a while since she heard him speak to her. She shook a little and nodded. As she began stepping down, her legs began to tremble, almost beyond her control. She clenched her teeth and tightened her hold on the log, trying not to think about falling. She continued to step down, being very cautious and keeping her gaze ahead of her, like her master demanded. Her legs could not stop quivering, though, and her breathing started to turn into hyperventilating. The last couple of steps were right in front of her, but her fear made it seem like they were a mile away.

Jeremy noticed the frantic look on the little girl's face, and his welcoming expression turned into worry. "Sir, I think she's getting worn out!"

Daryl narrowed his eyes, ignoring Jeremy's warning. He saw it, too, but seeing that she was near the bottom of the stairs, he knew she would not get seriously hurt if she fell. More importantly, for him, he wanted to see how she would save herself.

Right as she managed to make it to the end, her knees buckled. Before she fell, she threw the log ahead of her to ensure it would not fall on top of her, and she landed on her palms, the sand feeling coarse between her fingers. Upon the log's landing ahead of her, sand splattered onto the crown of her head. The raven of her hair had been tainted with the yellowish-brown mix of minerals.

Jeremy gasped and started to go to her. "Hey, are you—"

Daryl stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder. "She's fine," he insisted. "She can pick herself up."

Jeremy raised his eyebrow at Daryl with a look of doubt, and then he watched to see if the girl would prove Daryl right.

Mallory watched as beads of sweat dropped onto the sand below her as she pushed up one knee towards her chest, planting the ball of her foot against the ground. She forced herself up and straightened herself out, almost stumbling backwards in the process. She ran her fingers through her hair for a moment to get out the sand that had gotten all over it.

Daryl took his hand off of Jeremy's shoulder and continued to observe his apprentice. Pick it up, Mallory. I don't expect you to make the next climb, but at the very least, pick it up again. I know you can do it.

Her eyes shifted in her spectators' direction for a split second, but then she fixed her gaze on the log in front of her. She felt her muscles in her arms and legs throbbing, almost refusing to let her even think about trying it again. Still, though, Daryl never told her to stop, and from what she could tell, he even stopped the man from going over to help her. Thinking of that, she took a few long, deep breaths, and bent her knees forward to try again, wrapping her arms around the log.

"Huh," Jeremy reacted, "I don't believe it..."

Daryl nodded, feeling satisfied with his apprentice's performance.

Before the girl could try her hand at picking up the log again, however, someone had burst through the double doors upstairs. Daryl looked up to find a frantic looking Grace leaning over the railing and scanning the beach. She locked eyes with Daryl and called to him, "Daryl! Come quick!" Right after calling for him, she rushed back inside.

Knowing that was fairly unusual for Grace to do, the swordsman wasted no time to start making his way up the stairs to see what was wrong.

Mallory had turned around, letting go of the log, and tried to follow Daryl. "What's going on?" she called, placing a shaky foot onto the first step as she watched Daryl skip up the first flight with ease.

"Stay here!" Daryl called back, continuing to rush up the stairs, skipping two at a time with each lunge forward. "Focus on your training! This doesn't concern you!" He turned his attention to Jeremy and ordered, "Watch her!"

Jeremy jerked back and looked at Mallory. "Uh, alright..."

Bounding up the last flight of stairs, Daryl began to fear the worst. Did Liam hurt Rod? What if he's been leading the other sorcerers to our location the whole time, and now they're attacking?When he made it to the double doors, he heard a crash that was so strong, he felt it through the floorboards underneath his feet. Followed by the crash was an all too familiar bellow of monstrous laughter, so loud that even the swordsmen three stories below on the beach could hear it clearly. The sound raised heads all over the training grounds, many of whom knew exactly who the noise came from. Some of the men looked ecstatic to hear it, murmuring amongst themselves and rushing up the stairs themselves. Daryl, on the other hand, figured that if Grace had come to warn him about this man's appearance, it meant he was in for a fight. Hardening his expression and feeling the platform he stood on shake with the herd of men that came rushing up the flights of stairs, Daryl pulled the door open and went inside the workshop.

Mallory had been petrified by the sound of that laugh. It was so thunderous it almost sounded like an animal's roar. In a strange way, it reminded her of Eagle Eye's cackle, the laugh of a sadist. Frozen with fright, she did not consider the herd of men that were rushing by her to go witness the source of that bellow. A man had pushed her to the side to get by, fortunately the railing had kept her from getting toppled over, but there was still the mass of men coming up behind her.

Jeremy noticed the bad position she was in and realized that she could get trampled. He started running toward her shouting, "Hey! Watch out!" He hurried over and managed to grab Mallory by the shoulders. Right as he was able to get her out of the swordsmen's way, he ended up getting pushed into the sand by another man and lost his hold on Mallory, landing on his side. Someone had shoved him in his upper arm, and he winced at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. His eyes shot open when he realized that he had not seen where Mallory went after his fall. He thought she would have landed in front of him, but after looking around, he found her running up the stairs behind the crowd of men. At first, he thought that maybe she was just starting to do laps up and down the stairs like she had been doing earlier, except without the log. He quickly realized that was not the case when she passed the first flight of stairs and made her way up the second. Baffled, he made his way back to his feet, spitting out some sand that had gotten into the corner of his mouth, and went up after the girl. "Hold on!" he called. "Didn't you hear your master?"

Despite Daryl's order, Mallory felt the need to see what was going on for herself. She had a feeling that Liam was involved, somehow. After the time Liam had protected her from the baker who was trying to hurt her, she wanted to make sure that he was not in any danger. The adrenaline running through her body was the only thing that was able to get her thought the flights of stairs after the rigorous training she had endured. Who's up there, and why is everyone so excited to see him?

***