NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Don't die, thread. ):

~Hyaline

My opponents were pathetic.

So pathetic it wasn't even funny. They thought they stood a chance against me? No way. I watched them in the Training Center, dropping their weapons, shooting arrows into the floor and walls.

Deciding to focus on my areas of least strength, I headed toward sword-fighting. I've been trained, but I was never good at close combat.

So I picked up a sword and hacked at the air for a while. The least I could do before the Games themselves was to build up some muscle. The sword began to feel heavy in my hands, but I didn't stop.

Instead, I pointed at the instructor who stood nearby, watching me.

"You," I said, pointing at him. "Practice."

He picked up a sword and came over, then took a ready stance in front of me. Remembering my lessons back home, I adjusted my posture to be ready.

He nodded once and attacked.

I blocked, deflected, dodged. Always on the defensive. My feet backpedaled so fast I slammed into the wall nearly right away. I tried a weak counterblow, but he swiped it away. Before I knew what was happening, he had his sword at my throat.

I gave him a withering glare. The kind of glare that makes flowers fold up and die.

He backed away and raised his sword. "Again?"

"You bet," I said, and went at him in a whirlwind of fury.

I thought my sudden attack would give me the advantage, but it wasn't even close. There was a momentary look of surprise on his face, then it moved to determination and, finally, intense focus.

His first blow crashed against my sword. My wrist shuddered. He made a strange twisting motion and suddenly my sword was on the floor. My fingers were wide open. My palm was white where I had been gripping the hilt.

Had it been during the Games . . .

He noticed my look of fear.

"Try leaning more into your blows," he suggested. "It will give you a little more power. Make up for some of the muscle the others may have."

I gave him the glare again. He shrugged.

But I tried it. And you know what? It worked. I almost beat him that time.

To my eternal shame, when they told us to quit, I was almost disappointed.

~