"I suppose you think that hurt?!"

            She smiled at me as an unforgiving enigma. She was more than an opponent. This woman was a puzzle. I could see it in those eyes. She dared, then, to take her foot from where it had landed upon me, and to pace around me like an unfed cat.

            With fast footwork, adrenaline pumping and a face reddening, I pulled myself up once more. There was amusement, now, in the stranger's gaze. It curled at her cheeks.

            I took on a solid stance, "I said, I suppose you think that hurt?"

            Her head tilted to one side and she grinned with unexpected eccentricity. And when those wet lips spoke, I wished my sword was in my hand. She had returned my question with another question,  in a far more condescending tone than I had mustered, "Well, why wouldn't it, darling?"

            Resentment seethed to a boil within me, and three things might have been said.

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updated Sep 5 by Dysphemism