Ambrose sat there drinking some water, sweat running down his face as he took a break and watched Demeter practicing. There was something wrong, he could tell, and there had been for a few days. She slashed and blocked, spun and ducked, but she seemed exhausted, her form off and it worried him. He could even hear that her breathing was off, like she was struggling. It was when the other soldier knocked her sword out of her hand, shocking the both of them, that he stood and went over to her. Demeter was gripping her wrist and the young man was apologizing.
“Are you alright?” Ambrose asked as he took her hand.
“I’m fine,” she turned to the soldier, “it’s fine, really, I was careless. Why don’t you go and practice with one of the others for a bit.”
“Yes ma’am.” He hurried off and Demeter retrieved her sword, slipping it into its sheath.
“Demeter, love, what’s wrong? You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”
“I don’t know, I’ve just been so tired and…and I can’t focus.”
“Maybe you’ve been overworking yourself?”
“I’ve worked a lot harder than this.”
He smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Just because you’re a mighty warrior woman, doesn’t mean you can’t push yourself too hard.”
“How about we ask for some time off, I’m sure my cousin would let us.”