Knife throw

The first attack took me completely by surprise. But for the slap of clawed, webbed feet on the grass, it was silent and terrifyingly fast. A water witch ran straight out of the mist toward Grimalkin, claws at the ready, dank hair streaming behind her, face contorted into a mask of hatred.

But Grimalkin was even quicker. She pulled a knife from her belt and hurled it straight at her attacker. I heard a soft thud as it buried itself in the witch’s chest. She fell back with a groan and slid down the slope to be enveloped by the mist.

B5 C26