"4…3…"
My ears honed into the sound of liquid drops hitting the floor. My blood.
"2…"
I hopped to my feet, removing my t-shirt, already covered in red. I wiped my face with it and tossed it aside. The crowd piped up; the shouts a mixture of encouragement and jeers. I could follow the sound of each shout back to its owner.
My eyes lifted to my opponent, taking him in with new clarity. His eyebrows lifted, and he was trying to hide a smile. He was relieved I’d recovered, not disappointed.
Age 28, a Fire who calls himself Dragon, and a logger before Daybreak, a memory of Erika’s voice reached me. He was bigger than Micah, and thick with muscle. Maybe slower on his feet than me. He's cocky, doesn't work much around camp anymore. Still riding his status as belt holder – no one challenges him, not even when he skips sentry duty. His hands were not the hands of a worker. No cuts, and smooth, even skin. Dragon had become lazy with his new status. His hands did, however, have a spray of my blood across the knuckles. Prides himself on physical fighting, he won't resort to his element until he starts losing.
Dragon waited for me across the ring. He wasn't going to make the next move. It had to be me. I walked toward him. He met me in the middle. I lifted my hand, slowly, hoping he didn't mistake it for a punch. Then I extended it toward him, palm to the side. It stayed there, hovering in midair.
He glanced at it, then over at a man in a black shirt standing just outside the ring.
I rolled my eyes. "You forgot to shake, first."
"Um, that's not in the rules."
I sniffed, and tears stung my eyes from the pain. "Come on – it's just good manners."
A few snickers from those close enough to hear our conversation. Dragon glanced at the man in black again, then shrugged, and extended his own hand.
I lunged for the ground, the momentum carrying one foot back then up above my head. The sole of my boot connected with his nose. Before I was all the way up, I closed my fist, swinging it into his side. He was softer than I expected.
He doubled over, clutching at his midsection. Gravity still had my same leg in motion. I swung it up in front of me this time, my knee hitting its target – the nose again.
Dragon flew back, stumbling over his own feet. He crashed hard on top of a filing cabinet. The crowd roared; the sound echoing across the small enclosed room. It was almost deafening.
I turned, taking the opportunity to reach out and establish which Elementals were in the room. At least fifty Fires, and just a handful of each of the others.
"That’s cheating!" Dragon yelled, lifting himself up then marching to the man in black. The ref, maybe? "Call the fight – she cheated!"
I stepped closer to the pair, staring down Dragon. "Sorry," I shrugged. "Shaking isn't in the rules."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ref's mouth twitch.
"No call. Continue the fight."
Dragon wiped his nose, now also trickling blood. He turned toward me, face red, fists closed, and sweat beading down his temples.
There were no words. Just one step toward me, then a flurry of fists. I ducked under the first bout, spinning in a crouch. My elbow hit the same soft spot at his side. I felt his breath against the back of my neck, leaving in one, large, involuntary gust.
I spun back out and stepped away before he had the chance to grab ahold of me. If I let him do that, it would be over.
Dragon clutched his side, trying to get his breath back.
I could match him blow for blow, but my punches weren't nearly as powerful. There'd have to be more – and well-placed. If I could just keep at it, I could probably outlast him. I'd just have to take care not to get knocked unconscious.
Stamina, I told myself. It will be a long fight. You should probably stretch.
I bent down to touch my toes, then reached up high.
Again, snickers behind me.
I bent one leg, with the other just in front of me, extending my calves. No matter what the crowd thought, it wasn't a taunt, I was just being practical. Still, Dragon wasn't taking it the right way. He glared at me through lowered lids. A growl escaped his lips, then he charged.
He covered the distance quickly. I had just enough time to step forward – I feigned right, then spun out to the left allowing him to pass me. His hand shot out, just reaching the ends of my hair. My head jolted back before his fingers slipped through. Had my hair been any longer, I'd have been in trouble.
I turned. He was off-balance. I jumped, landing one foot in the middle of his back. He went down to his knees. Again, I stepped away, narrowly avoiding a swipe of his hand.
My heart raced; there had already been too many close calls. I had to be quicker.
He was on his feet again. He wiped his nose – the bleeding had already stopped. Had mine? I didn't want to check. Instead, I walked to the filing cabinet that still held Dragon's imprint.