Snarling, Sai used an opportune moment of dangling to hoist her leg back and snap it forward into the boy’s knee with all her might. He grunted and continued on. Sai knew she’d connected, her bare toes hurt, she knew she’d hit him. He’d grunted and proceeded to make Chemar spew blood. Not only disgusting and embarrassing for the girl, but a clear sign that they needed help. Her hardest kick had done nothing, he was unfazed, nonchalantly swinging and trying to rip them off of his arms. Chemar looked to her for leadership, and guidance out of this mess. The pressure was on. No, no, not the mental pressure, the boy was trying to shove her off his arm with his other hand. Fine, he didn’t want to ask nicely? She abruptly released her grasp, little body twisting through the air until touching the ground. Barely touching the stone floor, the little scamp flew forward while her companion distracted the oaf, who was standing and trying his hardest to peel the ape off. Up onto the table she ran, running up the bench, snagging up the boy’s dinner tray, using the edge of the table to reverse momentum, and whirling around with it poised over her shoulder to smash into his head. She went forward with the attack, the tray did not. Inexplicably, it stopped; the distance between her body and it grew, arms unwinding like ropes until the anchor that was her clamped fingers jerked her body back around. The blood had misted and globbed from Chemar’s bewildered face. Fingers unlatched involuntarily and Sai tumbled to the floor again, this time from the height of the bench and landing with a sickening crack. The friend, red in the face from laughter, flippantly let the tray slip from his fingers to whirl end over end until it clanked to a stop against the stirring soldier monkey. For long moments, Sai’s movements to rise twitched abortively, a pitiful little groan accompanying her struggles. Everything outside of the twisting ache in the side of her head, like someone had tried unwaveringly to penetrate the skull with a blunt object (something similar to a floor), blurred into the crimson distance. The down stroke of her eyelids, hiding the tilted fight between child and slightly bigger child, lasted an eternity and Sai almost forgot the task at hand. Floor slippery with the boy’s spilled meal, the two active combatants carried on, much to the amusement of those diners rested enough to enjoy. Something was missing though. And why was it taking so long? Fights never lasted this long, just drawing out boringly. No fighter worth a tail feather moved as slowly as they two did. Why did no one pull a knife? That’s what people did, stabbed each other. Maybe they didn’t have knives. Sai had a knife. She had her knife, the one that she’d cut Chemar’s hair with, the one that had started this whole mess with the Ape. Fitting for it to start and finish the rivalry. Up Sai pushed, onto her knees, halfway tucked under the bench, and waited. With her little knife clutched in her fist, finally the right moment came and she scooted out. The boy had finally stopped moving, had a good balanced, solid stance. Hunkered down behind him, she whipped the knife back and forth against the bryda of his left leg. Perplexed, Sai looked at the cut, billowy material and her clean knife. Usually there was blood. Adults did other things, in their knife fights, though. Blade large in her little fist, Sai sat on her heels and jabbed the tool forward into the back of the kid’s leg. That got a reaction. The howl echoed so disturbingly high pitched that Sai didn’t even notice the knife was still stuck in his calf. Or that she’d cut her hand when her grasp had slid up the length. She jumped to her feet and circled his flailing attempts to knock the tool out of his flesh, searching for Chemar. |