58 Summer, 515 AV
6th Bell, Morning
6th Bell, Morning
Continued from Here.
Helena Swiftrun had dark eyes, a long, narrow neck, tightly braided tendrils of black hair that stopped just above her waist, a silver ring pushed through the middle of her nose, and a stare that was hard to look away from. Dravite had observed all of this with just a glance; details he had missed in the dark of night passed. Her legs were long and lean and she bested him in height by a good three inches. “Raise that spear, Blackwater; I shouldn't have to tell you twice,” Helena scolded, pointing her weapon at the ready.
The two circled one another slowly, careful where they put their feet in the clearing just beyond the thick undergrowth that surrounded the makeshift camp. The ground was littered with leaves and dried debris that made for a perfect hiding spot for any grassland snake. Helena drew a line in the sand with the end of her spear, coaxing the man to rush into a move that would probably see him clipped before he knew what had hit him. She smiled a smile that played tricks on the horse lord’s innards; why did it invoke such a stirring in his loins?
Dravite growled and lunged forward, thrusting his spear low in an attempt to trick the woman into changing her stance or throw her off balance. Helena seemed to expect every move he made and whacked the man’s right shoulder where his defence was currently lacking. Dravite raised his spear and locked it over top of the woman’s before striking her with another kick; this time he had thought ahead and stopped her from taking his legs out from under him like she had the first time.
Instead Helena did something completely left field and leapt at the man, springing up onto his shoulders using her hands only to close his head between her thighs and force him to tumble backwards. Her hand caught the knots of his matted hair as her feet met the ground, stopping him from sustaining a mild head injury. Dravite had dropped his spear and sat on his backside with his hands on the back of Helena’s legs just above the folds and looked up at her blinking, as if to say with his eyes what his mouth could not; what in the world was that?
.
.
.