Scapegrace was a grown man. He was a little over six feet tall and of average strength for a man his size. Valkyrie was a fourteen-year-old girl who was tall for her age, and she'd been working out with two of the best fight trainers around for two years. Physically, Scapegrace was still superior, but he was also injured. He was keeping his weight off his left leg, and his body was twisted slightly. She suspected cracked ribs.
Strike first and without warning.
Valkyrie kicked Scapegrace's left leg, and he howled. She tried shooting an elbow into his face, but his arms were up, flailing. She pushed him back to give herself room, and he looped his right fist against her jaw. Her head spun and she hit the door and nearly fell.
He came in with another punch, but she swerved away and it caught her on the shoulder. If she had been wearing her black coat, the blow would have been absorbed by the material. As it was, she went stumbling.
He reached for her again, and she grabbed his bandaged hand and wrenched it. He shrieked and forgot all about his attack. She moved away from the door and, still leading him by his broken fingers, spun him in a tight circle around her. She brought his hand low, and he dropped to his knees.
”Let go!" he pleaded, tears in his eyes. "I wasn't going to kill you, I swear! I was joking!"
She released his hand and he clutched it to his chest, and she grabbed his head and drove her knee into the hinge of his jaw. He fell over backward and didn't get up.