It was an attack that summoned all the strength the woman had, but it barely made the man budge. He felt it, like the sting of a wasp. He turned to her with a frown on his face. An emotion of mere irritation, as though he was correcting a dog that had stepped out of line.
A thick hand grabbed the woman around the neck, immobilizing her completely. She drove her dagger relentlessly into the forearm, but the man did not let go – not before he reached for the top of her head with his other hand, and broke her neck.
She fell to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The Yarmdon that killed her tried to reach around to his back for the wound. Jok twisted his lips in distaste. A sting though the attack had been, it had still managed to pierce the organ.
