Dethroned

Eleven

The shade of the trees concealed everyone from witnessing the beauty of the sunrise, the birds from the east and the blue dome, unless you'd climb above the canopy.

Something keenly and extraordinarily asserted the whole figure of the in her combat artire. Her woody brown impenetrable sleeveless coat, with low-cut collar, thin waist, two gold linings over her breasts going down to the coat's endings, at the heap level, nicely presented her natural posture. A brown jag in and a pair of high cut fiber boots were quite suitable for a reliable suit of armor. She held her hands behind her back, giving commands, inspecting and sculpturing her best warriors. No one could deny that she was in charge in this section.

"This way," said Linna, marveled by the stunts in the training arena. The weapons, gear, attitudes, and aggressive snorts she saw lured her down to the surface.

"You want to show some, huh?" Pronclaimed Walter.

She strongly smiled as she climbed down. She ran to check out some weapons, picked a sword and threw it back, saw her favorite skeans, and she took a pair of them. She analysed and drove her middle finger over the edge. They were very sharp.

A keen wind passed right in front of her face, triggering her nurves, goosing the tiny hair between her nose and her upper lip straight, compacting the whole of her body into an ice cold block of a startle and she realised what it was. A trained hand, quite enough to throw a knife. Without looking where it came from, she threw hers. She heard a thud. She knew she'd hit one of those hard Mahogany trees. Fiona was standing beside it. She'd already dodged the knife.

Trellises of thick wood lay horizontal. It was a hope-and-balance plant cast between them. At once, they strided torwards each other, stopped and dared in each others' eyes. Fiona threw her knives to the ground, and so was Linna.

Tactictal plans started to germinate out of Linna's head. She slowly moved around the trellises, carefully watching her steps, getting closer to her, and holding her position. It was awkward. She didn't want to be the one who was nervous, perhaps stalling, so she jumped to throw a punch.

A smart block, another left stike, blocked again and tried multiple times, and she stood. Linna was getting tired and losing balance.

"Your anger shouldn't be your source, and if you do so, it will result in too much effort." She said, breathing peacifuly.

"You have no reason to be angry around here. It feels safe and sound," she aggressively pushed her. "This anger had made me survive so far."

"But you never succeded in any encounter, and that's why you are angry. You are not just angry with the people around you. You're also angry with yourself."

She said, "You know nothing about me!"
"I agree, but I know everything about me and what I've been like." They timingly caught her right arm swurved her, pin it behind her, and whispered, "Its all here, in my chest." She released her, leaving her inbalanced and about to fall.

She landed on a block of wood with her rigid hands. She looked up behind her, saw a chance, carefully timed, reeled her leg on Fiona's, and she came down.

Linna laughed, "I got you!" She gave her a hand up.

"The first encounter, you've been quite, well, embarrassing. For that, you would've been dead." She said, tightening her wild hair logs and removing some on her face.