Side by side stood two adversaries, ready to spill the other's blood.
The chief, with no brain cells left, dashed forward with his hands flapping in the wind behind him.
He was already dead—just a walking corpse moving on instinct.
She slashed at the air, and a lash was sent out. The corpse, though it lacked brain cells, figured out that whatever that red line was, it was dangerous.
He jumped up, his feet almost touching his butt.
"There's more where that came from," Evan shouted.
Her movements became a blur as barrels of lashes were sent flying. It was so intense that the chief struggled to avoid them all and slowly got overwhelmed.
A lash passed through his left arm, severing it, and another tore through the side of his abdominal muscles and the shoulder of his right arm.
