The clanging of swords rang in the air, thick with dust and the smell of sweat. The monotonous noise drowned out the voices yelling in adjoining rooms, droning loudly in the soldiers' ears. It was all the same. Always the same. The same instructions. The same steps. Same beats. Move here. This way. Hold your sword up. Don't stop moving. Win your battle.

I had to win.

Halt. Stop. Stand back up. Stand your ground.

I had to stand back up.

A large white charr clad in heavy iron armor moved slowly across the small quarters, bringing his large, serrated blade to a ready position. His curved, forward-facing horns barely missed the ceiling. Climbing up from the ground before him was a slightly smaller charr, her glistening white fur knotted with bits of blood and dirt. Her armor was only a patchwork of thick leather and iron plates, and it had certainly seen better days.

Their golden eyes met, and she wiped some blood from her maw, a low growl rising in her throat.

"You just won't give up, will you?" said the male, his voice gruff but hardly stressed.

You knew I couldn't.

He chuckled when his opponent took her stance and readied her blade. "You should really stay down."

Like hell I would.

The female bared her thick fangs, brow furrowed in anger. "I'll gut you like a pig."

She took a swing, and he took a step back, a wide grin on his face. "Now, that would be counter-productive, wouldn't it?"

Guess that depends.

. . . On what?

You had to go.

He raised his weapon to block hers as it came down toward him, and his eyes suddenly widened, as the grip on his weapon was broken and a loud snap echoed in the air. His sword clattered to the ground, and before he could react, her fist came around to catch him in the jaw, followed by a hilt to gut, a knee to nose as he buckled.

It felt good.

Stumbling back from his opponent, eyes closed, he waved a slightly misshapen paw back behind him to try and catch himself. With nothing to lean against, he fell back on the ground, yelping as pain shot up his arm from his paw.

I wish I could say I'm sorry.

"What in the flaming hell was that, Kaira?!" he said through gritted teeth.

There she stood, midway across the room, with a smug smirk on her bloodied face. Her body quivered tiredly, and she looked as though she might just drop there, just slump over, but she stood. She stood tall, determined. Her eyes bore into him with a furious intensity.

"Preparation for the gutting," she muttered between breaths, as she bent down and hefted his sword in her other paw. She glanced between the two weapons she carried, and slowly she strode toward him.

But you were gone before the end.