Twenty-One-Fifty

Four

     The boy was surprised when the girl lunged out from behind the building. Her gloved hands held her rifle between them, though it wasn't held in an exactly threatening position. He couldn't tell what she was about to do because half of her face was covered. He couldn't judge, though; his face was just as covered as hers.

     The two teens stare each other down with about fifteen yards of space between them. He had a knife clenched in his hand, she had a rifle aimed down at the ground. Both thought the other capable of danger, but also realized they had to work together.

     "What do you want?" She asks. He blinks. Her voice was sweeter and smoother than he had assumed it would be. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, adjusting the hold she had on the rifle.

     The boy holds his hands up in a non-threatening manner.  "Just to form peace between us. You don't have any reason to fear me."

     "I know." At that statement from the blonde girl, heMike took a step back, a little offended by how quickly the reply had come. After a moment of hesitation, the girl adds to her statement. "You're not holding the knife right. That will do no damage in that hold."

     The boy looks down at his hold on the knife then back up at the girl facing him. "How would you know? You have a rifle."

     "Doesn't mean I can't hold a knife." To show her point, she puts the gun on her back and draws a knife from her belt. She holds it in a backhand style, then shows it to him. "This is how I usually hold it. It's good to stab with."

     He blinks as she returns the knife to its place on her belt, inside a nice leather sheath. As she was now holding no weapons, the boy puts away his own knife, still standing far away from the girl.