I held my ground, and raised my weapon in front of me and charged toward him. He held up his club, and started to pace toward me. I swung the blade, and he expertly dodged, but I had anticipated his swiftness. I immediately used the weight from being off balance to deliver a kick to his belly, sending him to the ground. He recovered, raised himself to one knee, and swung his club toward my head. I jerked away at the very last moment, the crude club leaving splinters on the top of my ear. I threw down the knife and charged into him with reckless abandon.
I started punching, kicking, scratching, and biting to obtain victory. He threw his club aside, and started doing the same. As his sharp teeth and claws threatened to disembowel or gore me, I was thrown on the defensive. He threw me away from him, and I hit the ground with a thud. I was not going to win this battle.
I laid there, feigning defeat. I moaned the moan of a dying man, even though I was merely a boy, I knew much of death. He fell for my trickery, and slowly approached me, ready to deliver the final, confident strike. I flung up to my feet, and threw a handful of the grittiest, dirtiest sand and plant particles I could find underneath me. It hit him directly in the eyes. He let out a scream of pain and frustration. I ran for my life.
I ran and ran and ran, leaving behind the bloodied corpses of my friends, and the failure of my task. I wept while my face filled with red hot rage and shame. I had never experienced defeat before, and it was bitter. My only solace was I escaped with my life, and that nobody else would have been alive to witness my shame.
I started punching, kicking, scratching, and biting to obtain victory. He threw his club aside, and started doing the same. As his sharp teeth and claws threatened to disembowel or gore me, I was thrown on the defensive. He threw me away from him, and I hit the ground with a thud. I was not going to win this battle.
I laid there, feigning defeat. I moaned the moan of a dying man, even though I was merely a boy, I knew much of death. He fell for my trickery, and slowly approached me, ready to deliver the final, confident strike. I flung up to my feet, and threw a handful of the grittiest, dirtiest sand and plant particles I could find underneath me. It hit him directly in the eyes. He let out a scream of pain and frustration. I ran for my life.
I ran and ran and ran, leaving behind the bloodied corpses of my friends, and the failure of my task. I wept while my face filled with red hot rage and shame. I had never experienced defeat before, and it was bitter. My only solace was I escaped with my life, and that nobody else would have been alive to witness my shame.
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