She was trying her best, under the circumstances, but even she understood that her best was woefully insufficient. One of the things she liked best about her mentor was the fact that he was willing to push her to be better. Today, though, she was far worse than when they had first started training together, and she knew it, but no matter how she told herself to pull herself together, it seemed to be doing no good at all.
He struck her weapon at just the right angle; when her sword went flying out of her hand, her fingers stinging, she considered whether he might really become angry with her this time, after all. She knew he was meant to have a temper -- all berserkers did, didn't they? -- but he had always been kind, if terse. Still, if he was to berate her now, she would certainly deserve it...
The other sword went quickly from left hand to right; it would not save her, but she could block slightly better, at least, until he called an end to this disaster. She blocked the next strike but missed the follow-up -- one weapon instead of two, no shield, hardly a surprise. Her side was going to bruise, though she was sure he was pulling his strikes.