Her body snapped into action.

It was simple to dodge the arrow. As good of a quality as the bow was, the archer was far from present. Ashla knew this was not Felicity, just a shadow of her fighting o behalf of her emotions. Still, hurt was obvious in her pounding chest.

Disarm her.

Hoping to avoid conflict, the half elf bolted towards her. With the speed of a graceful bird of prey, she dodged anther loosened arrow with ease. Grabbing the bow, Ashla swiftly took ahold of one of her hands. Felicity was stronger than Ashla. Way stronger. Yet, Ashla knew how to handle this. Even while Felicity was still procession her lightning moves, she jammed her fingers into the pressure points and muscles of her arm and hand. It was a swift disarm, ending in the sound of the wooden bow echoing as it hit the ground.

Felicity looked up with a gasp, only for that dead look in her eyes to return. She reached to her side and drew her sword. It was made of brilliant delyn. The blade sparkled against the moonlight as she threw a half efforted swing at her chest. An obvious move. Felicity was worse than even her first pathetic days of training. Ashla raised a gauntlet, using the armor to block the attack as she resumed a light footed unarmed stance.

She lept out of the way as another dysfunctional swing was unleashed. A tear entered her blue eye as she considered bailing now. Would she leave before Felicity came to her senses? Would she regret sailing away from her without a proper farewell.

A bitter thought crossed her mind, I’ve lived with so much regret already. Why not add one more to the heap?

Before Felicity could move like a zombie again, the wing footed, lithe woman sprinted towards the pathway leading to the ship to Salvar.