Salvia had become the sum of all parts of Salsola. She was its true daughter. Within her was the desire to control, the cleverness to lead, the savagery of a great beast, and the suspicion and belittling attitude of those who were unworthy. Her body had yet to catch up to her brain. Taunt muscles, still barely visible, were growing with each practice, with every physical limit she pushed herself to. When she could not shadow-box, when she had no partner, she took to the ocean.
With her hands loose, Salvia did not use her fists—she kept her hands flat, fingers curled at the knuckle. She was not strong enough for a fist to truly hurt someone, but the sharp edge of her knuckles could. Her body moved with each command, well rehearsed. Though she followed the orders of her non-aunt, Salvia was certain that this boxing could be improved. For now, though, she was diligent and did as she was told.
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