The warriors lifted their spears and struck them down against the cavern floor. The beat rose through her, and the shaking of her chest under her own breath. The beat continued, one strike after the next, as the tribe came forward to see the fight. To see the blood.

To see Shiny get her comeuppance.

They’d see her alright.

Wild-Eye was old and crooked, but they said he was the best with his knife. It was a mean thing of flint chipped to sharpness and wrapped with a leather handle.

She had range, and he had-

Size? He was taller. Experience? They said he’d killed a cave bear when he was young, and she didn’t doubt it.

She was just going to have to beat his shit in anyway.

“Well?” His yellow teeth grinned. His whole face was a little crooked, a little warped, and age was collapsing his withered old skin down into the hollows of his gaunt cheeks. Scars ran from his eye across the bridge of his nose.

Someone shoved her from behind, making her stumble. She snarled but the only way to recover was to let the momentum carry her forward towards him. Her spear lashed out and she shouted as she jabbed for his chest.

He knocked it aside with his blade, and his knuckles came flying towards her face.

A moment of coldness settled through her body and she stepped out of the way. He wasn’t expecting that. The wind was howling in her hair, surrounding her, a cool breeze that whipped at the edges of her first skirt as she drew her spear up over her head and slammed the blunt end down into his face.

Silence- the beat of the warriors froze in horror-

He hit the ground on one elbow, blood running from his cracked tooth.

She stopped too. Actually, she figured she’d won, for a second. She almost started to cheer for herself as the wave of triumph filled her chest.

Wild-Eye screamed with a fury that pulled back his lips into a feral snarl. The sound struck her blood cold. In one smooth moment he vaulted up and drew a hidden knife from his cloak, flinging it for her face in a streak of silver.

Her whole body was so numb she barely felt the impact. Her skull was a split-second slow to realize what had happened. On instinct, her arms had brought the spear up, and the blade had chipped off the haft and gone spinning up.

Blood streaked her face where it had clipped across her cheek. Her left ear was ringing.

He lunged at her with his long knife, and she stepped back, giving ground. It cleaved back and forth, his hand swinging left-right left-right with sweeping blows that herded her back towards the ring. Towards the guards, where someone could kick her in the back of her leg and get her on the ground for him.

She had to go forward.

The wind wrapped around her body and she was weightless as she stepped through his blows, weaving just under the blade. The world was running a step behind her and her spearpoint flicked across his chest breaking away shards of bone. Then she stepped past him, turning, spear jabbing forward. He barely got himself facing her in time to swat the piercing strike away as it darted for his shoulder like an adder.

The wind howled in her ears, and she knew what she was doing for once.

A smile ran across her face as her spear flicked, flicked, flicked, each blow coming so fast the shaft bent and the point became a bone-colored blur. He was the one dodging now, the one feeling pressure, being moved under the momentum of her blows. The point scraped his armor again, and tore into his hip for a second. The next stroke crossed his left arm and ripped open the hide.

She felt light. She felt quick. Shiny was stronger than she remembered, and he was older and slower than she remembered. There was more scar than sinew to him.

A laugh ran from her lips as he dove for her, his every feature crazed with fury. His knife came for her throat and she shifted the haft of the spear in the way, catching the blow at his wrist so the point stopped short.

She kicked him, wove around him, and brought the spear crashing into the side of his throat. She saw the wind drop out of him as he staggered, coughing. His hand dragged across the ground like a claw.

“Ain’t a great feeling, is it, you fat shit.”

But the smile slid off her face as he stood, and came at her again. This wasn’t going like it should. She’d knocked him down twice-

Was she going to have to kill him?

The thought slid through her like a cold knife and for a moment he had the momentum, took the lead. He drove into her and she barely turned his blows aside.

The wind ran out. Something had been burning inside her chest, a flaring glow of warmth, and without warning it gave way and crumbled into itself. The wind around her vanished and she slowed. The sudden turn made her stumble.

His hand flicked up and threw grit into her face.

In the moment she was blind, spluttering, confused, she felt the knife whip hard across her chest and split her open down to the ribs. She screamed and the next blow caught the side of her mouth and ripped it open across her cheek. He kicked her, slashing the back of her arms as he drew the sword away, and she was on the ground, blood running off her face.

The spear jabbed her hard in the shoulder, twisting in the depths of the gristly muscle and bone until another scream clawed its way up her throat.

“Don’t think I like doing this.” The spear stabbed her again and made her curl inwards, trying to defend herself as the world shrank. The pain wanted to swallow her. His voice came to her like an echo drifting down to the bottom of the well. “But however harsh I am, the desert is harsher. Lessons…”

She could hear the satisfaction in his voice. The crowing. He was turning towards the crowd, her spear in his hand.

When she turned the ring slid against her chest, hanging from its leather cord. She pulled it down and stood up on shaking legs, letting it hang from her fist, the ring heavy on the string. With a flick of her wrist she started it spinning. Round and round it went, a glowing blur of green.