“We’ll be dedicating one team training a week to yoga and balance, but this is something I want you to do extra work on. We’re going to start out with twenty back-and-forth walks on the balance beam, but feel free to do more.”
She pointed to a long wooden board on supports that raised it four feet off the ground. Placing her hands on the top, she swung her legs upward, then moved from a squat to a standing position. Placing one foot in front of the other, she quickly moved to the end of the board, then pivoted gracefully around and returned.
“Now you try,” she said as she hopped back to the floor.
I stared at the narrow surface, then looked down at my feet which were at least double the size of hers. “You want me to walk on that?”
“Yes. Go as slowly as you need at first, then increase your speed once you become comfortable.”
I would never be comfortable walking on what seemed like a twig, but I climbed onto the beam without protest. Carefully I placed my feet in what felt like a stable position, let go with my hands, and slowly rose to an upright position. One step. Two steps. Three—my foot slipped just a fraction of an inch. It was enough to tip me sideways. I windmilled my arms, trying to regain my balance and failing. Faced with an inevitable fall, I chose to leap and land on my feet rather than on my face.
This would clearly be a difficult skill to master, just like the toe-touching exercise.
“Another balance exercise I want you to do is using this board.”
Not another board! I kept the protest unspoken and followed her to the piece of equipment. This one was also wooden but broad and long with ends that curled up. It was thankfully on the floor.
“You stand on this rubber band stretched across the top and try to keep your balance as long as you can. Start out just standing, then as you feel more stable, you can begin moving your feet and turning around.”
“Stand on therubber band?” Was she crazy? She must have some idea of how much I weighed. There was no way that thing could possibly hold me without snapping like a thread.
She bit her lip. “It’s a commercial grade board. Maybe we should use the this one instead, though.”
The second option was a straight board on top of a wooden cylinder. It reminded me of a tiny version of a child’s toy in the park that Ozar had called a teeter-totter.
“You are supposed to keep the board centered over the cylinder, like this.” She demonstrated, making it look easy. “Once you can keep it centered without the ends touching the ground, then try to roll the board back and forth across the cylinder.”
I watched her, positive that this would be as difficult as trying to touch my toes.
“Your turn.”
She hopped off and I approached, carefully positioning my feet with one end of the board stable against the ground and the other raised. Then I shifted my weight. The cylinder rolled. The board dipped and I overcorrected. The board shot sideways across the room while I felt myself topple in the opposite direction directly at Willa.
She squeaked in surprise as I slammed into her. Instinctively I twisted, wrapping my arms around her waist mid-fall and turning so that I landed onto the mat with her on top of me.
I didn’t let go. Having her in my arms like this, feeling her body against mine, inhaling the clean scent of soap and laundry detergent, and that warm aroma that was all myWillowyn.I loved her. I loved her and I didn’t want to ever let her go.
She shifted and I reluctantly released her, noticing that she lingered on top of me a few seconds before rolling to the side.
“Are you unhurt?” I asked.
“I’m fine, but I should be asking you that question.” Still lying beside me she turned, her shoulder against mine.
“I am unhurt physically, but my pride is very wounded,” I confessed. My stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. “And I am hungry.”
Willa laughed. “Me too. Let’s go get some food. I’ll work on these exercises and we’ll give them another shot tomorrow.”
The shrew chose a dining establishment only a block from my hovel. The proximity was a reminder of what we’d had justa few weeks ago and how tenuous this relationship between us was. But our bond seemed far less fragile as we ate giant sandwiches and talked. Conversation with her was so easy, so very effortless. We discussed nothing of import—our favorite seasons, if steaks should be seared first or after cooking, if magical globes or solar powered lights were more energy efficient.
She insisted on paying for her portion of the bill. As the server left to get change, I took my chance.
“Willowyn—Willa Filipkowski, I did not consider your feelings or your customs and expectations before. I was wrong, awyndall’sass, and I truly regret it. My feelings for you go deeper than my flesh. My hand-axe is not the only part of me that longs for you. I want to woo you. Please give me a chance to win your heart. In return I promise to always be honest, and to always put you first.”
Her eyes widened. At that moment the server returned with our change, thanking us and hoping to see us again soon. When she left, I could tell that Willa wanted to do anything but return to the interrupted subject of us.
“Please.” I reached out to take her hand and felt it tremble in mine.
Was she scared? Had I moved too fast? Was I putting her in an awkward position where she would need to worry what might happen to her job if she rejected me. The thought twisted my heart.
