Fialova's accusations came with each furious strike, her dagger slashing relentlessly toward Argider's face.
The latter rolled frantically, each movement jarring her broken arm and drawing groans of agony from her lips. Still, she evaded death, though shallow cuts began to carve into her flesh, tiny tolls for each moment she stayed alive.
Then, Fialova managed to seize Argider's wrist, her grip ironclad. Argider's chest heaved, panic threatening to drown her. Summoning what strength she had left, she drove her legs upward, kicking Fialova square in the knees.
"Ah!" Fialova yelped, staggering back and releasing her grip.
Argider paled. "W-Wait, I didn't mean to kick you!"
Wait. Why was she apologizing? This woman was trying to kill her!
