Feet dragged along the dirt road in Footy Park as Amber struggled to make her way through the location, gym bag in hand, aiming to return to the Townsend household after a full afternoon of pro wrestling practice. Her back couldn't stand upright and pain was very visible in her expression - in fact, she looked like she could fall flat on her face at any given moment.
Four hours prior to that moment, she had been in Melbourne, carefully helping other members of the crew in the laborious task of setting up the ring for the following day's show. Once it was mostly secure a new trainee asked the head honcho regarding how to take a powerbomb properly. Amber was asked to demonstrate as the larger man performed the move on her. The moment her back collided with the mat, all air was sucked from her lungs and she was hardly able to breathe for thirty minutes straight, being completely gassed out and suffering from intense back pain.
And this is why you should always warm up first, kids.
On top of that, she had to suck it up and finish the ring assembly work, and endure three hours of training and bumping on top of it. She managed to put on a strong face, knowing she would be teased mercilessly (and perhaps even punished) if she let the absurd strain show, but the moment she was left by herself near the gym in Narrie that she usually works out in, she felt like her very soul had been sucked out by an invisible Dementor.
'Can't... go... more...' Her motivation was completely shot. She spotted a park bench and collapsed onto it once reaching it, lying down on her stomach. The bag fell clumsily down to the ground, barely hooked to her fingers by the holding strap. She closed her eyes to rest for just one moment.
Out like a light. A little drool fell from the corner of her mouth and onto the wooden bench as the sound of light snores could be heard in her vicinity. Time passed, and she was in danger of missing curfew the longer the nap went...