Laughing a bit, Aelyndra directed a question to Lance, asking about how his own day went and what he had been up to.
Thinking on it, Lance's mind flashed on the events of the day.
...
Lance had been going around with a different purpose in mind, when his ears caught something. He moved quietly through the thickets, following the sounds of fists cracking against stone. Each blow rang out with brutal rhythm, echoing like a war drum through the still air. When he emerged into the open, his eyes landed on a familiar figure.
Before him, Rusak stood shirtless under the morning sun, muscles rippling with exertion as he worked them. His fists pounded against a thick slab of stone fixed upright, the surface dented and cracked from repeated impacts. His breathing was deep and controlled, eyes focused. Even without seeing his face, the sheer force and rhythm of his movements revealed a man immersed in discipline and training.
