Page 6

Daleth threw up his hands. “It’s your funeral, missy.” He then stormed back the way he had come.
She mocked his retort in a falsetto as a nine-year-old would do, exaggerated facial expression and all. She seemed to regress around that kid.

~

She cut through the last three obstacle-beasts like a hot knife through butter, playing at licking her blade with a predator’s satisfaction. She dislodged a stray talon from her tightly-woven hair, letting the long tail of her light brown mane fall to her back and buttocks. With obstacles as easy as these, she expected a sure victory against the Boss. 
No algorithm, posh! No algorithm my ass. 
She looked up at the immense blackened door to the Boss chamber, cracking her knuckles. Before she could utter the first syllable of her chant, she was shaken by a sudden, violent rumbling.  The door was sliding up into the ceiling.

She unlatched her shield, taking stance, shifting from foot to foot with an ambitious grin staining her delicate features.

Come to me, you digital asshole.

Page 7

Shardik stood in the center of his domain, glowing softly in the rippling heat. He was shorter than she’d expected- only a little over six feet to her visual measurement. His armor was indeed as advertised- black, red and orange magma. The horns jutting from his helmet were a bit much. She felt a little insulted that he hadn’t even unsheathed his sword- or even had a shield. 
Noticing her, he tilted his head, then bowed in the gentlemanly manner of a dance partner at the beginning of a waltz. 
If he thinks I’m going to curtsy, he’s got another thing coming.

When he didn’t get a response, he opened his arms, beckoning her as a host would an expected party guest. She jutted out her chin in a smug “alright, then” smirk, and strode calmly to meet her adversary.



To be continued...? Who knows.