7

Christina looked up from sharpening her blade to her bedroom door that was pushed open.

Her friend, Allen was leaning against the doorframe wearing a one-piece lycra. His straight blonde hair was in his face, covering his eyes. Allen patted his three swords strapped to his waist. "You busy?"

"Not really." Christina stretched her arm over her head.  "Did you hear about a group of warriors going to Phoenix?"

Allen shook his head.

"Well, the Ravenous Wolves contacted my father and asked if he'd like to take down Phoenix."

Allen cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Christina put her blade away and got to her feet. "Apparently they've been hiding dreamwalkers and we're in charge of killing them."

Allen frowned slightly and averted his gaze to the floor. 

"You alright, Al?"

"Mhm. Distracted." Allen backed out of her doorway into the hall. "I'd better go. Good luck on the mission."

"Allen, you're apart of the mission too." Christina slipped out of her chair and joined Allen in the hall, closing her bedroom door behind her.

They start making their way through the long winding hallways.

"Why?"

"You know why." Christina stopped in front of the doors to the training room. "He's your responsibility."

Allen pulled the doors open. "He may already be dead."

Christina glanced back at him. "Toby is not one to give up so easily. You should know that by now, Al."

"My job is to capture him?"

Christina pulled out her weapon and twirled it between her fingers. "Part of it."

Without warning she tossed her weapon. It missed Allen by a hair, but she managed to nick his cheek. 

"What's the other part?"

Christina and Allen began circling each other, Christina stepped forward and swung at his face. Allen ducked, hitting her in the stomach.

"Torture him."

Allen stumbled and Christina tackled him to the ground. She punched him once in the stomach, then in the face before he grabbed her wrist and threw her onto her back.

Christina grunted. She rolled to avoid getting kicked in the face, then knocked him off his feet. She jumped to her feet and put her knee on Allen's chest. "Then," Christina put her other blade to his throat. "You're going to kill him."

  ....

Toby was six watching his father train a boy a couple of years older than him. He had amber eyes and long blonde hair. Toby didn't know his name but he hated him. He hated the way he made his father laugh.

Toby could never get him to snort, much less smile. Whenever he would come home he hardly spoke a word to Toby, his mom, and sisters. Toby sat on the bench, arms folded.

When his father ended the session he left. The boy sighed loudly and went to put away his practice sword. The boy noticed Toby and he smiled. He came over and Toby cocked his head.

"Hi! You're Mr. Malone's son, Toby, right?"

Toby nods. "Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Allen. How old are you?"

"I'm six, you?"

Allen beamed and puffed his chest out. "I'm eight."

"Hm."

"Wanna duel? With the training swords?"

Toby raised a brow and got to his feet. He peered up at Allen noting that he was a full head taller than him.

"Nah. I'd prefer a hand-to-hand fight."

Toby wandered to the middle of the room and looked back when he realized Allen hadn't followed. Toby opened his mouth, but stopped when he saw Allen's shoulders shaking. At first, he thought he was crying, but he realized he was laughing.

"Is something funny?"

Allen stopped laughing and walked toward him. "You want to fist fight? I'm, like, two times your size!"

"Meaning?"

"I can take you."

Toby gave a small smile. "Prove it."

Allen took a swing at his head. Toby laughed and ducked. He stepped sideways and stuck out his foot, causing Allen to stumble.

Toby beckoned Allen forward. He pounced, teeth gritted. Allen aimed a kick at his stomach, Toby caught his ankle and pulled. Allen landed on his butt and Toby sighed.

"Are you finished, or do you want your ass kicked some more?" 

Allen glowered up at him and jumped to his feet. Toby moved with lightning speed when he punched Allen in the stomach. Allen grunted.

Toby hit him again in the face, then did a foot sweep. Allen fell again. Toby shook his head and brushed his clothes off.

"How...are you..doing that?" Allen grunts. "I've never seen you spar before!"

Toby shrugged. "I'm a visual learner." he turned to leave.

"Wait." Allen rasped.

"Hm?"

Allen struggled to his feet, clutching his side. "Could you..." he swallowed. "Give me tips. You know, for fighting. I'm going to be sparing against Christina tomorrow."

"Ah." Toby licked his lips. "Well, tip number one. Never make the first move."

"Why ever not?"

Toby turned toward him. "So you can assess your opponent's strengths and weaknesses. For instance, you're right-handed, but you threw a punch with your left hand. That does throw most people off."

Allen blinked.

"I've been watching Christina as well. She always steps forward with her right foot and swings with her left."

"Oh. ok?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "The best way to take her out quickly is a good punch to her throat, a punch to her stomach, and a roundhouse kick to her head."

"How do you know that?" Allen asked, amazed.

Toby smirked. "By watching. Now are you going to stand around looking like a lost puppy or are you ready to train?"