She rolled to the left avoiding the large descending form which landed where she had previously been. Then quickly, before the Father could recover, the girl clambered astride his robust chest, muscular arms pinned beneath her knees. Father Geoffrey futilely tried to improve his position by leveraging with his legs. Anonda took advantage of the distraction pushing his right cheek against the cold clean floor, her opposite arm poised to make a harmful blow.
“Perhaps you are ready.” The burly monk spat between squished, pursed lips.
“Ready for what?”
“I’ll tell you when I know.”
“You don’t know what it is?”
“I don’t know if you’re ready.”
Anonda pressed her knees deeper into his elbows in response to the retort. Answering his groan she let her whole weight rest on her hand pressed against her mentor’s face standing up defiantly. Father Geoffrey followed suit. “Why did I stop bringing in sparring partners for you?” he queried while rubbing the pain from his face. “Lack of volunteers.” She rapidly replied adding “Why don’t you ask some Ninitah, I’d love to spar with them.” as she walked over to the water pitcher.