10-14-2012, 01:51 PM
Einarr watched his opponent drop and take the blow to the arm and ribs, the thunk solid, but the other was not unbalanced. The doe had scampered off, his chances of a meal disappearing with it. The dark grey male had drawn a knife, the light catching the sheen of it and. Einarr’s world contracted to encompass only the two fighters, the knife appeared sharp and would open his veins easily, but the staff had greater reach. The other’s thrust was fast, but Einarr’s staff was faster, as the weapon came for his arm, he brought the staff up in defence. There was a thunk as the two weapons met, but the tip of the blade opened a shallow gash, not serious, but blood began to ooze from the wound, filling the air with a metallic tang. Einarr barely noticed the injury, there was no anger in his face, or in his movement, to him this was another training exercise. Using the other’s momentum, he guided the knife away from himself, sending a kick at the other’s stomach, intent on winding his attacker and relieving the stranger of his knife. The autumn breeze gusted again, and his white flecked, grey mane blew about him. His heart pounded and the sound of blood rushed through his ears. He had intended on leaving his conflict behind him, but why did it feel so good to be fighting again?