The clearing in the woods was no longer just a place to Willem, but it was his place. His clearing. He spent so much time there that he could hardly think of it as anything else. The sword in his hand had begun to feel like an extension of himself, and as he swung at the makeshift targets or trees around him, practicing his stance, his swings, he felt good about himself. He felt confident, strong, all the things he always yearned to be but was too much of a geek to make happen. Hitting the books wouldn’t accomplish those goals, though brains were just as important as brawn. But neither by itself was everything, and he didn’t have his books or rules on how the world worked in Wonderland.
He’d become so focused on his practice that he didn’t notice when people approached any more, not unless he was on break. And that was why he had to stop short when he swung around his body, almost slicing at someone with his dulled blade. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on someone with a sword?!”
