EMPIRE

13. Retaliations

There's a pause between us both, a stillness that seems to expand to the whole gym. You could hear a pin drop and it would sound like the blast of an atomic bomb. I inhale sharply, the warmth of this person's hand was both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. I frown, the confusion probably very clear on my face to anyone who was not wearing a blindfold.

I rip my hand out of his grip and follow shortly with a strike towards what I'd assume to be their stomach. The hit was good and made contact but the target barely moved, releasing only a small hiss of what I assume to be a mix of surprise and pain. My eyebrows furrow beneath the thin material, I don't think I had previously come across this particular person during our training exercise. Maybe it's Talon, he had said he would be late when I informed everyone of this surprise sparring match.

You know it's not.

My eyes widen at the sudden words in my mind, at that exact moment the air left my lungs as my body took a jab to the stomach. I snarl beneath my breath at both the attack and the voice of my Wolf, what business does she have to arise at this moment? She knows that she is a distraction when fighting in human form, we have discussed this many times. She is not to pipe up suddenly during a fight.

My stomach stings as I stand upright and I take a couple steps back to regain my bearings. To my surprise, no one had taken advantage of my miniscule stumble and I inhale lightly. My ears prick up for any sound of an oncoming attack but there are no sudden movements being made, only the noises of light shuffling. Then I hear it, my range focusing on something off the mat. The others have retreated, all being called off of the sparring ground by a distantly familiar voice.

"Dark Warriors, off the mat. Take off your blindfolds and move away now!"

Talon.

My eyes burst open from beneath the blinding material and widen with shock. If that's Talon then who the hell am I up against? I swallow as I feel a presence inching towards me, it's too late to turn back. It'd be dishonorable to back out when the battle has already commenced, especially if you were the one being challenged.

Swiftly, I step to the side as a hand swipes for my head and inhale sharply at the force behind the blow. Dropping to the ground, I extend a leg and glide it across the floor before me with as much strength and speed I can muster. I make contact very briefly before my opponent is able to dodge the maneuver and regain his bearings. My mouth forms into a snarl at the failed attack and I growl beneath my breath, rolling backwards to avoid what I'd assume to be a front kick. I feel a lot more flustered than I'd like to admit at the idea of not having any idea of who I may be against. He mustn't be hostile as I can sense that he is pulling his punches, refraining from using full force. There is no scent, no familiar fighting style, no telltales to indicate as to who this mysterious man is. I've gathered that he is inexperienced with fighting blind but not even close to being incapable. Although he may be slowed by losing his sight I know that by the strength and precision of his strikes the moment he lands a fist to my face I'd be out cold. It strikes me that I'm fighting blind not only in the physical sense but figuratively as well.

He moves forward, the shuffling of his feet a clear indicator of his direction. I move my head to the left as a strike whistles past my ear and immediately retaliate with an attack of my own. With what I'd assume to be a narrow miss on my behalf, I step back two paces as a kick is thrown and a small grunt escapes from my opponent's mouth. Definitely male.

We move in sync, both dodging hits left, right and centre. I predict his movements as they become something akin to familiar, only to have an underlying shock at the contrast of unfamiliarity. This man before me is a paradox unto himself, knowing him on an almost intimate but he's an entirely strange and alien concept at the same time.