Not a member of Pastebin yet?
Sign Up,
it unlocks many cool features!
- Out on the torchlit fighting field, Art Lean faced the last of his four opponents, the man still held the knives up in a defensive cross, but he was otherwise nearly immobile. He was kneeling on the grass, and seemed hurt. Not as badly hurt as the other three, perhaps; they lay unconscious where they had fallen.
- (...)
- His left foot snapped forward, between the raised knives, taking the man just below the ribs. The fellow was knocked backward and away with his arms flung wide. The two knives flew off into the dark.
- Art bowed to his fallen opponent, then turned to collect his shoes and socks and his overnight back. That done, he looked around the field again.
- “I wonder where the sleeping places are?” he asked aloud. “I wasn’t kidding about needing to get some rest.”
Advertisement
Add Comment
Please, Sign In to add comment
