The prompt: Write a piece about a fight. What happened? Why? Who "won"? What were the repercussions?
All of the young Nadan trained, daily. So daily, Naddnē was on the field with the young men. She had been there every day for eight years. Learning the arts of defense. With and without weapons.
Today she works alone. Works with her sword.
Step. Swing. Turn.
The blade sings through the air. She follows.
Turn. Swing. The blade, her arm. Step. Swing.
The blade plays currents of air like the strings of a harp. Swing. Turn.
A flash at the edge of her vision. Turn. Swing. Blade on blade. Ring. Step. Swing.
Blade slides on blade. Turn, swing. Blade plays on blade.
Naddnē realizes it is Baundl.
Step. He has bullied her for years.
Turn. The blade sings.
At six, the practice blade is too heavy. He taunts her. Too small. Too girl.
Step, step, swing.
At ten, he is faster. He chases her with his new steel blade. He shatters her practice blade.
Turn. Swing, step.
Last year, she receives her steel blade.
He laughs at it. The hilt is made for her smaller hand. It is balanced for her lesser weight. He calls it a baby blade.
The blade, her arm, her rage, one.
Turn, swing, sing, step, swing.
Blade, arm, one, bloodsong.
Baundl sweats now. Retreats.
Naddnē swings her rage/blade/arm. One in the song. The blades meet, sing. Her blade demands. His blade no more than a thin shield.
Blade on leather shield. Discordant. Rage.
The shield belongs to Dænl, her kindred. He has thrown it over Baundl to protect him from the death blow. The shield has split Baundl's lip.
She takes a breath, closes her eyes. The blade is quiet. She approaches Baundl as he regains his feet.
She speaks to him, "She sang for your blood."
He topples backward as Naddnē slams the flat of her blade against his swollen, dripping lip.
"It's only fitting that she have it"
This is a little more of the character from Prologue. Although this was originally posted in February, I've edited (a lot) for the prompt.