The more you you sweat in training,
The less you bleed in battle.
Puck's words from training came back to her now as she whirled around the battlefield, a one-woman army. The others had fallen long ago, and she was alone.
The more you sweat,
The less you bleed.
Duck, slash, parry, lunge. An unbridled fury blossomed in her. A soldier sliced across her arm, spinning her. She used her momentum to whip around the rest of the way, blocking a strike from behind as she did so, and sliced through his thin armour like paper. She moved on.
The more you sweat,
The less you bleed.
These people had meant the death of her grandmother, her parents, her uncle, her best friend. Of Daphne. These people had killed her little sister.
The more you sweat,
The less you bleed.
She screamed her rage, a shrill, keening sound that left terror in its wake, and fought all the harder. Finally, she whirled to fight her next opponent, and saw only a field, littered with corpses.
The more you sweat,
The less you bleed.
She slowly became aware of her own wounds, her own injuries. A few of them were lethal, but she had ignored them in her blaze of fury.
The more you sweat,
The less you bleed.
She could not ignore them any longer. Her sword fell from her hand as she sank to the bloodsoaked ground. The battle was over. They had won, and she could rest.
The more you sweat...
I'm coming Daphne, she thought hazily, and knew no more.