Beads of sweat twinkled like diamonds on the woman’s forehead. Her hands, too, were wet and slid on her sword’s hilt, but there was no time to pause and wipe them. She swung around and a clang rang out as her weapon struck her enemy’s. Then with a duck and a twist, she knocked his sword far from him and slashed his right hand.
The man screamed and glared at her with pure hatred blazing in his eyes. The woman barely noticed, though. As he ran away to bind his wound, another soldier stepped in to take his place.
There was always another one.