She writhed in the air like a snake, taking quicker and quicker jabs at her invisible enemy, attempting to dodge its own attacks. Just as Skye landed the fatal blow on her imaginary opponent, she heard a familiar voice speak out, and she lowered her knife, turning to the voice - there was Shawchert, only a few feet away; she had been so intent on her practice that she hadn't noticed the large, burly man until he had spoken. She smiled with pride as he commended her moves and said that he hadn't known she could do that.
"Well, Shaw," she said, "Let's just say that when you first met me, I most certainly could not do that." She spoke the truth - when she had arrived at Souls as a teenager, although she wasn't bad with her dagger, she was nothing compared to what she had grown to be. Eyeing Shawchert, she realized that the same was true for him - he now wore a belt equipped with a gleaming sword, something that he hadn't had in the past. His figure was also adorned with newly found muscles and bulk, something Skye also couldn't remember meeting him with. They had both grown, and for the better, she thought.
Struck by a sudden inspiration borne from the sword in his sheath and the dagger in her hand, she turned to Shaw once more. "Want to fight?" she asked. "Pretend fight, I mean - for practice?" Although her moves were good against invisible and imaginary foes, she wanted to try it out on another canine, even though, of course, neither would be aiming to maim or kill.
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