"Perhaps," she returned, spinning just out of the direct line of his strike. It nearly grazed her, a good move, and she shot him a look. Her grip on her sword tightened and she slipped back into the range of his weapon so she could give a warning swipe towards his side, a deliberate miss.

"But my father was a warrior who fought in an occupation. He knew how to train soldiers." And then she ducked down to swing her leg out in an attempt to trip him up.