By V'dralla's silken hair, how I want to hit him. Stacia offered a silent prayer up to her preferred Thayne as she raced toward Breaker. The man was quicker than a snake and savvier than an owl, so she would need her Goddess' blessing if she wanted to punch him in the middle of his great scarred face. And how she wanted to hit him. Her entire body smarted from the numerous times he'd sent her tumbling to the ground. She planted her feet in front of him and threw a barrage of punches at his fat head.

"Open those fists," Josh commanded as he deflected her blows effortlessly with a single sweep of his arm, "if you hit me with a closed hand, you'll break your knuckles."

Realizing he was right, Stacia flexed her fingers like a tiger's claws and struck again, slashing with long nails at his eyes and throat.

Breaker danced backwards, bobbing and weaving, avoiding each assault by a needle's breath.

Stacia gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream, but instead she redoubled her efforts. A breeze smelling of moss and trees rippled the fabric of her shirt and pants as she chased after Breaker, clawing the air and kicking at his knees and groin. The man was never there for her to hit, but she was coming bloody close. Stacia chased Breaker around for minutes until she was panting, ready to fall down on her bottom and just sit awhile.

"Don't stop now," Breaker chuckled, "you almost got me just there."

"Shut... up... you great... drave." She gasped, holding her heaving belly.

"Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth," he lectured. The bloody man had not even begun sweating! Stacia was practically drenched.

She collapsed to her knees, breathing as she'd been advised and slowly regaining composure. While she rested Cronen walked across the clearing like a tomcat crossing the courtyard, his black boots crunching fallen leaves.