You, there… yes, you. Lift your head up higher." Shieldwolf Longmane moved around the training field with the grace and determination of a sleek wolf. His light brown hair was, as always, pulled back in a long braid. His ageless face was kind yet firm; his eyes were gentle yet blazing. "Hold your weapon forward and turn it until it is in vertical position. Now grasp the middle of your staff with both hands like so." Shieldwolf Longmane's muscular arms were slick with sweat as he demonstrated the holding position to his unit. Samarra was tired from spending her morning learning drill formations and harvesting herbs from the greenhouses, yet she carried out the battlemaster's orders with ease. Remembering the marching commands had been much harder than this — always stepping out on her left foot unless the command was "right step, march," or keeping a full arm's length between herself and the swain in front of her, which had been close to impossible. Today was Samarra's third day at Shieldwolf Proper and she had already been assigned to a combat unit.
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