Darren's hands were splayed on the muddy gravel courtyard, and his nose had to touch the grime with each push-up. Salty beads flowed down his face like soft summer rain, dripping onto the mud as he breathed and struggled to keep himself from giving up.
On his back was a rock that gauged a hundred and ten pounds and Ludovic remained close to him, tallying the numbers and monitoring his efficiency.
If his pace was slow, he'd get a lash on his shoulders, and the count would reset to zero. Sometimes he'd reach five hundred, slip-up would pitilessly reset it all, and he'd have to start from the top and aim for a thousand again.
