Redsand Canyon Voithó

Aquene had not realized the slip. It had been so long since she used the language in any capacity that she usually did not notice such idle slips. Still, the man seemed to get the point and was prowling. She set herself, remembering all that she had learned up to that point as she drew in a steady breath to even herself, exhaling as he moved towards her cheek. Better an ear than your life. The words had been said during her first spar with the Roman patriarch, but they had clung to her like disease on a leper.
 
She pulled back, her chin tucking as she shifted to slam her shoulder forward instead of pulling back all together. She had come to accept that injuries and bruising were a part of sparing and inevitable in a fight as well. Pulling away altogether felt more like a method to flee. She hoped to disorient him and catch him off guard with such a counter strike, aiming to nip at the top of one of his forelegs instead. She knew how in a real fight blood could ooze quickly from wounds to the extremities, and had to treat soldiers for as much many times. It would be a vulnerable place, and one she felt was often overlooked as well, at least in her own experience sparring with Germanicus and Kallik.