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Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.

With his superior speed, Roc eventually got the drop on Ingram, attacking from above. His hit landed, but Ingram twisted in the air and kicked Roc in the gut. Roc lost his balance in the air and hit the ground, rolling over a hundred feet across the rough street. Thinking he had seized victory, Ingram turned and flew back to the arena, but Roc, although spitting up blood and covered in bruises, wasn’t ready to quit yet.