In a ten meters over ten meters room, one of the training rooms that had survived the difficult time the Dark Arrow had been swamped in, Hannah moved with difficulty, her movements slow, like she was bearing the weight of an ocean hundreds of kilometers deep. On her body were droplets looking like perspiration from the efforts she was making, but on closer look, they were not unmoving.
It was not Hannah's movements shaking them off, nor gravity having an effect on them. Rather, they were moving up and down, as if with a will of their own, together creating disjointed streams that used the fair skin exposed, and even the green sleeveless sport crop-top and the cropped pants hugging her legs as the bed for their slow dance.
