The Forms

The air was thick and suffocating as the heat of the summer day bore down on him. He worked through his training, running the sword forms again and again. Strike, parry, evade. A true battle would be hotter than this day. Sparring would come next, though sweat slicked him and the other students, the master, Uncle Din, shouted commands for the forms. In the training yard; Argen was another student learning the sword. Since arriving, he had come to have great respect for his uncle. The sun glared in his eyes and glinted off the practice blade. Strike, parry, evade.