He heard the whir of blades, the soft release of breath, and knew what was happening. the blades had barely left the man's hand when he threw himself to the ground. the blade struck his ear; warm blood trickled down his cheek and pain shot through him. He was still intact. whirling around, he saw movement, definite movement, without mistaking. the man was slinking way, quickly. he was well trained, perfectly trained to expect anything that an opponent had to offer. So instead of the obvious plan, he would have to choose something different. he had it. He turned and ran in the opposite direction, his leg dragging behind him. Fleeing, or so it would seem. running in fear. But he was listening, knew exactly what to listen for. "come to me," he whispered, "chase me down." And the man stopped running, pretended to search the skies, waiting. He had one more hidden surprise, and that would be enough.
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