No rest for the wicked

As he hooked his blade around the back of her leg, he pulled the limb out from under her. Doing so threw off her attack against his neck, and in that short moment where her balance was compromised he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. He held her for a moment, the clear victor, before releasing his grip on her. He took a step back and studied her critically for a moment. He had drawn blood behind her knee, but the amount was small enough not to worry him.

He reached under his ankle sheath and pulled out a small cloth. “Would you like me to wrap that for you?” he offered, indicating with a short nod of his head to her knee.


"Sirius Fatalis"