Young Duffy smirked as the duo faded behind a whorl of sand, given life and furore by the winds as they grew in intensity overhead. Whereas the caldera had sheltered them before, now it swallowed the desert gales whole and turned their sanctuary into a maelstrom of arid ruin. Clad in his former self’s white shirt and baggy pants, he began to feel the heat and considered wherever or not his gambit was worth it. Little pangs of doubt formed on his face as rivets and frowns, lines worried to intensity by his own racing emotions.

“Come on then!” he roared. His voice was full of false bravado.

His daggers, trademark in his old self’s hands were more like short swords now. He held one in each hand, the heavy steel cumbersome. Though he retained the skill and weight of experience of many a battle, his body was at odds with what he had learned over the years. They balanced well, but he had no desire to see wherever or not they’d rebuke the two women’s attacks now.

“Don’t fight what you think you see, fight what you know!” A little tremolo carried his challenge through the sands as they began to cascade, and he advanced through the remnants of the cloud, heavy boots dragging and bangs of jet black hair bobbing to and fro as he fought against the change in the weather.

Something at the back of his mind reminded Duffy that this was all part of his plan. He couldn’t remember when they had met, the bard and the belles, but he had promised to test them, to bring out the best in them, and in his own special, retarded way, he would do just that. He emerged in full view of the duo, side by side, in deep philosophical debate about wherever to coo at him or kick him harder, and bowed politely. Then, he spread his feet and clashed his blades together as though he knew what to do with them.

“The only way out of ‘ere is if I gut you, or you gut me!” It sounded odd coming from a child, but he meant it all the same. “So, sort it out!” He charged. He didn’t know really what he was doing, but remembered that flailing your weapons in the general direction of your enemies was how his older self would do it.