A desert hollow stretched beyond Hastinapura, its dunes rippling under a sudden sandstorm that roared to life as the afternoon waned. Howling wind whipped the air, flinging grit in blinding sheets, while visibility vanished under a golden blur that stung the skin and choked the lungs. The sand shifted beneath their feet, treacherous and alive, as the hollow echoed with the storm's fury, a crucible trembling with chaos, ready to test the princes' steel against nature's wild dance.
Drona stood at the hollow's edge, his lean frame steady in the gale, his tattered white robes snapping as he shielded his eyes from the sand. His gray hair was tied back tight, whipped by the wind, and his dark eyes gleamed with a stern, unyielding fire as he faced the Kuru princes. In one hand, he held his staff, its tip planted firm in the shifting dune; the other rested on a pile of wooden swords, their edges blunted but solid. The princes gathered around him, their tunics lashed by the storm, their breaths ragged in the gritty air as they squinted into the blur, determination flickering amid their coughs.
Bhima rocked on his heels, his massive frame swaying in the wind, his broad grin flashing faint through the haze as he clapped his hands with a loud thud that vanished in the howl. "Swords in a storm, guru?" he said, his voice booming over the dunes, loud enough to cut through the roar. "This is mad! We slashing sand now?"
Drona turned to him, his expression calm but unyielding, his voice slicing through the chaos with steady force. "Slashing foes, Bhima," he said, his tone deep and firm, steadying the air for a moment. "Swordplay in the sandstorm. Fight through the blur, trust your blade. Pair up, take one. Begin when I call."
Bhima's grin stretched wider, his eyes lighting up as he laughed, the sound swallowed by the wind as he grabbed a sword with a grunt. "Trust my blade?" he said, his tone bright and eager, swinging it once into the storm. "I'll trust my roar! Let's go, guru!"
"Roar less, strike true," Drona replied, his voice dry and patient, pointing into the haze. "Five strikes each. Find your mark."
Nakula and Sahadeva stepped forward together, their lithe forms weaving as one, their twin grins flashing through the sand as they stretched their arms. "This is ours," Nakula said, his voice quick and light, nudging his brother with a laugh that danced in the wind. "Right, Sahadeva?"
"Born for it," Sahadeva replied, his tone swift and bright, grabbing a sword with a nod. "We'll cut the storm!"
Arjuna moved beside them, his lean form quiet and still, his boots sinking into the sand as he studied the swirling blur. His tunic flapped wildly, his breath even, and his dark eyes narrowed with a steady focus. "This is fierce," he said, his voice soft but clear, grabbing a sword with a nod. "It's all instinct, guru. Any tips?"
"Feel the wind," Drona said, his gaze settling on Arjuna with a flicker of warmth, his tone firm. "Let it guide you. You'll hold."
The princes staggered into the hollow, their footsteps sliding on the dunes, the storm screaming with the clack of wood as they vanished into the haze. Bhima lumbered forward, his massive frame buffeted by the wind, his laugh booming as he swung blind at the air. "Here we go!" he shouted, his voice ringing loud, the sword slashing through the sand. He aimed for a vague shape—Duryodhana, maybe—but the storm threw him off, his strike veering wide as he stumbled, laughing still.
"Ha!" Bhima said, his tone bright and unbothered, wiping sand from his eyes. "This wind's a beast! I'll hit something!" He swung again, the wood whistling uselessly, and he grinned, his chest heaving in the blur.
Drona watched from the edge, his voice steady and firm as he called into the gale. "Something's not enough, Bhima!" he said, his tone warm with patience, his form a shadow in the storm. "Find them! Focus!"
"Focus?" Bhima said, chuckling as he swung wild, his sword slicing air. "I'm focusing on standing!" He lunged, laughing loud, but the sand shifted, and he flailed, his roar lost in the howl.
Nakula and Sahadeva moved as one, their swords raised, their steps synced as they flanked Arjuna in the haze. "Left!" Nakula called, his voice quick and sharp, swinging low as Sahadeva struck high, their blades clashing against Arjuna's in a blur of wood. Arjuna parried, his sword steady, tapping Nakula's arm with a soft thud. "One," he said, his tone calm and sure, shifting to block Sahadeva's strike.
"Got him!" Sahadeva said, his voice swift and thrilled, their swords dancing in tandem as they pressed forward, disarming Duryodhana in the chaos with a flick that sent his blade spinning into the sand.
Drona's eyes widened, his voice warm with awe as he stepped closer, sand stinging his face. "Two?" he said, his tone lifting slightly, steady despite the roar. "Synced and swift, boys! That's it! More!"
Bhima swung again, his sword arcing blind, and clipped Arjuna's leg by chance. "One!" he said, his voice loud and triumphant, laughing through the storm. "I hit something!"
"Something's me," Arjuna said, his voice soft and steady, parrying Bhima's next swing with a calm twist, tapping his chest. "Two."
The hollow pulsed with their efforts, the air thick with sand and the clack of wood—Bhima's wild swings, Nakula and Sahadeva's fluid dance, Arjuna's resolute blocks. Nakula and Sahadeva flanked Arjuna again, their swords a blur as they struck in sync—Nakula low, Sahadeva high—clashing against Arjuna's blade with perfect rhythm. Arjuna parried, tapping Sahadeva's shoulder, but the twins pressed on, their teamwork cutting through the storm, landing three strikes each on Duryodhana and Bhima.
Drona stepped forward, his voice ringing clear as he raised his staff high. "Hold!" he said, his tone warm with awe, his eyes gleaming through the haze. "Enough!"
Nakula grinned, his voice quick and triumphant as he brushed sand from his face. "Five!" he said, his tone light and thrilled, bumping fists with Sahadeva. "We owned that!"
"Owned it," Sahadeva echoed, his tone swift and bright, shaking sand from his sword. "This storm's ours!"
Arjuna lowered his sword, his breath steady, his smile warm and quiet as he wiped grit from his eyes. "Three," he said, his voice soft and honest, nodding at the twins. "You're a force, both of you."
Drona's brow lifted, his voice warm with pride as he clapped their shoulders. "Five each?" he said, his tone steady and pleased. "Nakula, Sahadeva—unity and speed. Well done."
Bhima lumbered up, his chest heaving, his grin wide as he spat sand from his mouth. "One's my tally!" he said, his voice loud and teasing, laughing through the storm. "I'm a sand bear! You lot are ghosts, huh?"
"Ghosts that hit," Drona said, his tone dry but fond, shaking his head as the wind howled. "Instinct, Bhima. You'll sharpen it."
Nakula nudged Sahadeva, his grin wide as he stretched his arms. "We flew out there," he said, his voice quick and light, brushing sand from his hair. "Five's a haul!"
"Next time, six," Sahadeva replied, his tone bright and swift, mirroring his twin's stretch. "We'll rule this sand!"
Arjuna brushed sand from his tunic, his voice soft and steady as he glanced at the hollow. "That was alive, guru," he said, his tone warm and calm. "The storm fights hard."
"Fights and forges," Drona replied, his pride clear, nodding at him through the blur. "You held, Arjuna. That's strength."
Bhima clapped their backs, his laugh booming as he grinned wide. "Strength?" he said, his voice loud and teasing, shaking sand from his arms. "These two are a whirlwind! I'm still swinging air!"
"Thanks, Bhima," Nakula said, his voice quick and friendly, grinning back. "Your swing's a gale."
"Gale's right!" Bhima said, chuckling as he flexed his arms, his tone bright and unbothered. "I'll catch you next time!"
"Catch with sight," Drona said, his tone patient and amused, waving them off. "Rest now. Nakula and Sahadeva, five strikes each, synced and swift. Arjuna, three, resolute and calm. Bhima, one."
Bhima laughed, hauling himself up, his tunic caked with sand as he shook like a dog. "One's my spark!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, grinning wide. "I'll light this desert yet! Good scrap, huh?"