Fighting

You feel him coming at you from behind, or rather, your subconscious mind does. Long before you hear him. Then, it all becomes real. The roar, the running steps, the motion in your peripheral vision. Something, or someone, charging at you. As you turn, a glint of metal, reflecting the sun. The parry is instinctual, drilled into muscles and nerves by countless encounters. You spin, arm following the motion, speeding up. Stepping back to buy that extra fraction of a second, needed for your parry to get in place. The deafening sound of metal against metal, sparks, and the instant pain that leaps through and up the length of your arm, as you block the incoming blade with your own.