The Boston born McDara-O'Rourke cousins Kahlan and Tory have their roots firmly planted in their Southie community known to insiders as the Barrows. Living their lives half in the hockey rink and half knees deep in the affairs of their family, they've been happy: But that's all about to change. Now, they must remember where it is exactly they come from and how to move forward.
Kahlan hit the ground hard. A kaleidoscope of pain burst behind her eyes as her head made contact with the wall. She felt something in her shoulder pop followed by a white hot splinter of pain that rippled up the muscle sinews. Kahlan felt the harsh frozen spray against her peppering her cheeks as someone stopped inches from her face.
“Blood.” A hollow voice noted above her.
Kahlan took the thick and wet polyester material of the glove’s first few fingers and tugged until it slid off. Her hand clumsily groped for her face. Kahlan could feel the warm trickle slowly sliding its way from her hairline. When she pulled her fingertips away they were red and wet. Kahlan groaned.
T.D knelt beside her and unclipped the strap on her helmet and gently pried it off her head. “Don’t move.” The older girl repeated firmly. Kahlan could detect the dangerous edge slip in to her captain’s tone.
A few yards away two other players had fallen: one a Ram offender, the other Tory. Fortunately her padding had absorbed most of the fall. Enraged Tory let out a deep bellow. The sound of it resonated through the arena like a war cry. She tore off her helmet, her ash blonde hair pouring over her shoulders like water. In one fluid motion her goalie gloves dropped and bounced on the ice as she cocked her arm backwards and let her fist fly, vision red with unchecked rage.
But Carynn Blackwater was prepared for the clenched fist aimed towards her face. She turned sideways so that Tory’s hit only grazed her jaw line. Still, it was enough to send her stumbling back a few inches. Tory lunged for a second attempt. This time, Carynn grabbed Tory’s arm with one hand and used the other to bring her elbow hard on the goalie’s wrist. The move wasn’t simply illegal but it was unnecessarily dirty, which was evenworse.
In a split second all Hell broke loose on both sides. The benches emptied: players pouring from the small door in an aggressive stream, some even leapt over the three foot high wall that separated the benches from the ice itself. Still on the ground Kahlan felt herself being dragged out of the line of fire by T.D. Her shoulder still throbbed: Kahlan knew that later somebody was most definitely going to have to jam the sockets back in to place.
The head captain’s main attributes were her speed and stamina, but not necessarily her heavy hitting. Still, Kahlan could see how much it was killing T.D. to be sidelined like this. Her leadership instinct kept her skates stationary as she acted as a human shield for Kahlan until a trainer could maneuver through the chaos and attend to them.
T.D. looked down at Kahlan and smirked. “Nah it’s okay.” The older girl unstrapped her own helmet and let her long chestnut ponytail hang over her shoulder. T.D. inclined her head towards center ice. “Looks like Serenity and Julie are taking care of business just fine.” A flicker of concern passed across her face when she noticed Kahlan’s eyes beginning to roll towards the back of her skull.
“Please don’t pass out.”
Tory, clutching her limp wrists slowly glided her way to them. She took a knee, her padding almost comically large on her wiry frame, and bowed her head as she tried to keep her wrist as steady as possible. Muttering, she incoherently let loose a stream of profanity, the phrase: “Fucking Blackwater.” being the only intelligible that thing Kahlan caught. Tory winced as a fresh spasm of pain tore through her arm. “You alright Kay?”
Kahlan winked. “Give me another minute, and then we’ll go join in.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” The Knights’ trainer mumbled having finally arrived. He moved her head slowly from side to side to review the damage. “Can you feel your feet fine?”
“Yes sir.” As proof, Kahlan knocked the black boots of her skates together.
A referee was able to make his way down to the other end. Blustering, he waved a red card in Carynn Blackwater’s face and ejected her immediately. The other referee was trying to break up the line brawl that had erupted against the boards; gloves, sticks and helmets lay abandoned across the ice. Players were clinging to the seams of rival’s uniforms, fists swung wildly in every direction.
T.D rose to her feet. She watched for a few more moments as the entireValhalla Knights roster joined the fray from the starters to reprieve players: no one wanted to be left on the edges. She gave a long sharp whistle through her teeth, distinctly different from that of the refs’. As if someone had flipped a switch the Knights ceased their brawling and fell back. As the other two Co-Captains Serenity Carey and Julie Fields aided Kahlan to her feet while the trainer examined Tory’s wrist, she caught eyes with Carynn.
She looked overly pleased with herself and the chaos she had caused. At Carynn's side her right hand, Marissa Blackwater was openly laughing. Kahlan was panting heavily; sweat was pouring from her face as she shook with unbridled rage. “I’ll freaking kill you!” She roared. “You hear me Blackwater? Freaking! Kill! You!”
The outburst was enough to stop Carynn in her tracks. She raised her thin dark eyebrow in surprise and leveled Kahlan with a steady glare. She lifted her arm and pointed directly towards her, a malicious glint in her eyes before she resumed her march to the locker room, her message clearly made.
‘Not if I get you first McDara.’