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Old He opened the soft leather case...pulling the sticks free for the first time in a month; the illness had taken time from him that was precious... Running his hands over the smooth rattan practice sticks, feeling the burned markings like an old friends... the ritual greeting to the sun, kneeling, stepping back to finish his salute to warriors past. Rolling his wrists, a stick in hand, his mind slowly clearing....the movements becoming pure...right foot sliding forward...eight count , 10 count , 12 count, 18 count, 24 count.. Left foot forward, box patterns, umbrella defenses, circling, sticks always in motion, vee stepping....Old by ~RandomRx
Stopping for a
Sta.sh
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~suffer not the soul~
Warmwolfspirithugandnibbles
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~suffer not the soul~