Exhausted was an understatement for how the walker felt. He knew this was a bad idea the second he considered it, but, at the time, he did not care. He did not handle loss well, and losing to that booming, haughty, absolutely wretched panda mere days earlier had him heated. He would have had him had he been more wary of his surroundings and did not fall for the bearwalker's feint. The scum lured Ashura close to the edge of the cliffs, allowed him to get just close enough to smell victory, only to shove him off the ledge. Ashura was luckily able to shift into his feral form before he hit the first series of rocks, otherwise the tumble may have been fatal. His bones ached, and healing wounds disrupted otherwise pristine white fur.
And yet, he ignored all of his body's protests when the opportunity for victory presented itself again. Hunting down other purewalkers against which he could test his skill was no easy task, and he was lucky to find one every couple of months. Two in the span of days? This would not happen again. He could not pass up the chance to redeem himself for his earlier failure.
This fight pushed him to his limits. The wolf was formidable, equally fierce and strong, not to mention relentless. He only growled and lashed, and Ashura was not able to outmaneuver him like he is usually capable. He was not well equipped to handle a barrage of powerful attacks, relying on technique and speed rather than brute strength. Every time he parried or was struck by one of his foe's strikes, his muscles screamed. This wolf apparently felt no pain - unlike Ashura at this time - for each time he met Ashura's sword, he did not flinch. Bloody paws and snapping jaws continued their onslaught.
Ashura would not be able to take much more of this.
He needed to relax. He knew how to push past pain and calm his mind. He was beginning to understand that this was the greatest skill his master had taught him. The naïve fool taught Ashura to be more than just a mindless beast, to discipline both the body and the mind. That is what separated Ashura from other purewalkers - what separated him from this wild wolf.
Discipline.
There was a rhythm to the wolf's strikes, and Ashura felt when to counter. The beast opened his maw, lunging out for a taste of the fox. A single, short step at an angle with a slight push off the rear legs and a firm grip on the sword in his mouth, and he did not have to fight the wolf at all. Using his opponent's momentum against him, Ashura's blade was what the wolf's jaws found instead of flesh. Ashura's own forward step assured that the blade plunged into the wolf's mouth all the way through the back of his neck.
He withdrew his blade quickly, and the defeated fell heavily to the ground. A wave of satisfaction rushed through the victor... and washed back to his head. His vision blurred, and he collapsed, barely catching himself before he hit the ground just like his opponent. He was hurt, he was tired, and, worst of all, he was vulnerable. The blood from the aftermath of his duel would attract every carnivore within a few miles. He forced himself to his feet, slowly moving away from the corpse. Hopefully those that came would be satisfied scavenging as opposed to engaging him.
And yet, he ignored all of his body's protests when the opportunity for victory presented itself again. Hunting down other purewalkers against which he could test his skill was no easy task, and he was lucky to find one every couple of months. Two in the span of days? This would not happen again. He could not pass up the chance to redeem himself for his earlier failure.
This fight pushed him to his limits. The wolf was formidable, equally fierce and strong, not to mention relentless. He only growled and lashed, and Ashura was not able to outmaneuver him like he is usually capable. He was not well equipped to handle a barrage of powerful attacks, relying on technique and speed rather than brute strength. Every time he parried or was struck by one of his foe's strikes, his muscles screamed. This wolf apparently felt no pain - unlike Ashura at this time - for each time he met Ashura's sword, he did not flinch. Bloody paws and snapping jaws continued their onslaught.
Ashura would not be able to take much more of this.
He needed to relax. He knew how to push past pain and calm his mind. He was beginning to understand that this was the greatest skill his master had taught him. The naïve fool taught Ashura to be more than just a mindless beast, to discipline both the body and the mind. That is what separated Ashura from other purewalkers - what separated him from this wild wolf.
Discipline.
There was a rhythm to the wolf's strikes, and Ashura felt when to counter. The beast opened his maw, lunging out for a taste of the fox. A single, short step at an angle with a slight push off the rear legs and a firm grip on the sword in his mouth, and he did not have to fight the wolf at all. Using his opponent's momentum against him, Ashura's blade was what the wolf's jaws found instead of flesh. Ashura's own forward step assured that the blade plunged into the wolf's mouth all the way through the back of his neck.
He withdrew his blade quickly, and the defeated fell heavily to the ground. A wave of satisfaction rushed through the victor... and washed back to his head. His vision blurred, and he collapsed, barely catching himself before he hit the ground just like his opponent. He was hurt, he was tired, and, worst of all, he was vulnerable. The blood from the aftermath of his duel would attract every carnivore within a few miles. He forced himself to his feet, slowly moving away from the corpse. Hopefully those that came would be satisfied scavenging as opposed to engaging him.
► Word Count | 590 ◄
