Axing for It

An expert disarm leaves Azka’s hands empty, and her axe in the constable’s grip.

“Enough?” he taunts.

A whip of the she-orc’s long, plaited hair whacks his nose with the iron band in its braid.

She snatches back her weapon as he reels. “Not yet. You?”

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

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