She felt rusty. Shaking out her wrists, she glared at the punching bag hanging in front of her. Like it was the reason she felt this way. That poor bag.
The off-the-beaten-track gym was mostly empty that night when Sakkara stepped inside, save for the proprietor and two other gym rats. Both muscleheads seemed more intent on outdoing one another, amped up tenfold the moment she set foot on the floor. She never gave them a thought as she warmed up through her usual stretch routine, dressed in a long-sleeved gray sports top and black work-out pants, hair down but pushed out of her face with a headband, black sneakers on her feet, and hands taped up.
It had been a battle to get there. Kade wasn't so sure that training to get back in the ring was the best thing for her. She wasn't sure, either, but if nothing else, she'd start feeling better the more she got back into shape. He petitioned hard for in-home training, and while she appreciated his desire to help, there was just something about the idea of sparring with him that she wasn't able to stomach.. at least not just yet.
Besides, cabin fever was setting in hardcore.
And she'd rather be able to push herself harder than was probably good for her recovering body. Perhaps it'd help more than babying it had. She had no clue what more she could try, having never experienced such long-term injuries before.
So Sakkara took an opportunity to go out to give at least one work-out a shot.
The demoness knew it would take time, of course. And proper care. Eating more was essential, and she was finally getting full meals into her stomach now. While these meals were usually Dominic-sized portions, it was a start and definitely doing her good. More energy, more time spent with her family, less aches to stop her. Once she'd get back to her regular diet, she knew things would get better. It would also be nice to not look like a scarecrow all the time..
The dark-haired woman, however, had not anticipating how rusty she'd become. Insanely so, considering how she spent the majority of her life fighting in one battle or another.
She stanced again, raising her fists while bouncing on the balls of her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain that caused. Right jab, then left cross, next right uppercut followed by a left knee. She stepped back, repositoned, and started the sequence again, switching to lead with the left jab this time.
It might hurt like hell, but it felt damn good reacquainting her body to the need to train, to battle, to fight.
