*waves* Yup, I'm back, and I'm finishing both of my WIPs! No more themes from here on out (all my old comms are long gone, after all), but I will still be using boxing/MMA terms for chapter titles. Just to keep it fun for me, the drabbles will be perfect sets of 100, 200, 300 or 400 words, with a couple, proper one-shots over 500. I don't anticipate cycling through those very often, as I broke things off quite close to the end. This drabble is 200 words.
A 'slip' is when a fighter moves his head to avoid a hit.
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Slip
"Nobody move," Miroku said as he jabbed at his cell phone.
"That wasn't my first inclination." Koga's nose twitched as he surveyed the scene. "I've got new shoes on."
Sango clucked her tongue. "Yes, I'm sure that's what Miroku was concerned about. Nothing about preserving the evidence of a murder or anything." She turned to Kagome before the wolf demon could reply, touching the other woman's arm. In her other hand, she still held the tablet they'd used to track Sesshoumaru to this place. It'd gone dark two hours ago. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Kagome lied. "I'm fine." She looked out across the clearing, awash in moonlight and in black blood. In the center, a gargantuan, clawed hand crushed a campfire that still sent up curls of smoke. The dead demon wore a wide-eyed expression of shock, which she supposed wasn't usual when you'd been torn open and disemboweled. If Sesshoumaru isn't here, that means he's still alive, she reminded herself. Alive is a start.
Koga pointed. "Hey, is that…"
Giving up on a signal, Miroku cut him off. "It looks like it."
They watched the three, long silver hairs curled around the dead demon's claws dance in the breeze.
