There's a real blog post coming soon, but until then, here's another excerpt from my YA High Fantasy :) My narrator is in the middle of a fight. But it's not a fight to the death or anything, so don't worry.
You were worried, weren't you?
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Our
giant wooden sticks, which were, quite frankly, a bit silly and a little
suggestive, clashed against each other as we countered the other’s
strikes. We were only inches from each other, and pretty evenly matched. So I
did the only thing I could think of.
I
cheated.
I
let go of the staff and landed a punch square on his jaw. He recoiled back as
pain flared in my hand. That wasn’t the best plan, but it bought me the time I
needed. And hey, maybe cheated is a
strong word. If the only rule in the whole match is don’t kill the other person, and the objective is to win, I think
punching is a fine way to achieve said objective.
The
only problem was, I hadn’t quite punched him right. That’s why my hand hurt
more than it should. I tried to shake it off as he staggered toward me,
laughing.
“Seriously?”
He asked, only loud enough that I could hear.
“Er,
sorry?” I wasn’t really sure what else to say. “I guess—”
Whatever
I was going to say was lost as soon as the first scream tore through the air.
My opponent, whose name I still didn’t know, tensed as he turned toward the
crowd.
