Trial

This was a test. Held under the large twisted oak tree just outside the city walls, a duel. The crunch of drought dead grass underfoot was not comforting. I took a calming breath focusing my mind on my goal, picturing the footprints left behind someone walking the beach. The imagined salt air filled my lungs and brought my mind to peace. The wind played with the strands of hair that had escaped my braid, carrying the stench of the city and its garbage filled slums. 'They can get you out' I reminded myself, ignoring the instinct to run back to what I knew.

I looked across the lines to him, my opponent. It had to be him, not the man I’d been kissing only five hours ago. Judge and jury of my future.

“Best of luck Roach,” someone called “though we all agree you fight like a girl.” I did not let the insult land. I flew at him with my dagger drawn. I fought like a berserker, not like him. He was all fluid, elegant form and beauty and death. When the duel ended with my blade to his throat. All he did was smile

“Bravo Roach. Welcome home.”