CHAPTER ONE
Read and listen to the music. Turn off the music before starting the next chapter if you finish early.
Robin walked tenderly into the falling down barn on the edge of the district. She gripped her fencing rod lightly, prepared to shift from hand to hand if necessary. Her long curly brown hair floated behind her as she cautiously, but quickly took each step-- her light gray eyes scanning the floor of the barn for snares.
It wasn't above Trent to attack her randomly.
A subtle rustling in a large pile of disgusting looking hay made Robin's head jerk to the side in a bird-like fashion. The noise automatically set her into a fighting stance.
"En Gard, my friend..." She whispered to herself, taking a step forward-- ears pricked.
After turning to the side and stepping forward, her bare feet sensed an awkward vibration in the floor behind her, quick and light-- an obviously in attack mode. Her keen ears heard quick scuffling behind her, and a
whoosh of air against staff told Robin everything that she needed to know.
Wheeling around, just in time, Robin raised her sturdy but light staff upward to block the blow.
Trent's mischievous face bounced above her as the blow and strain of impact slowly dragged the girl to her knees. She gasped at the force of the staff and closed her eyes, mind whirling.
She only had a few moments before she couldn't hold it anymore and fall. So she had to...
Robin grunted as she released Trent's wooden practice staff and dodged the attack. She moved her leg upward at blinding speed and delivered a painful
and powerful kick as she slammed him as hard as she could in the knees. She heard him let out a gasp of pain and smiled; it was surprisingly satisfying.
She rolled to the side to get behind him but let out a screech as his signature kick came crashing down on-top of her. He had predicted she'd roll next, and she should've known to feint. Robin her roll was stopped and she was sent flying backward into the barn walls.
With a crack, the age-old barn walls shuddered against the sudden, light, weight.
Only for a heartbeat she was laying sprawled on the floor, she instantly twitched as she leaped to her feet, fist curled firmly around her staff and muscles aching.
He rushed her, staff held high above his surprisingly serious face, and she rushed to meet him with her own staff in a smiler position.
There was a dull
clang as wood met wood and the two friends engaged in a deep combat.
Robin wheezed as his fist came around about and met her shoulder, but she retaliated with a sharp jab of her staff into his now exposed side.
She ducked as his staff made a wide swing and lifted up her own to block his counter-attack.
The girl bunched up her muscles and leaped upward, bringing her staff down upon his head hard. He blocked it however, and Robin found herself struggling to hold onto her own defense as he whirled the two staffs around at a blinding speed.
Panicking, Robin's grip on her own staff loosened for a millisecond. Trent wasted no time in thrusting his staff into her hand, prying it open and sending her own staff flying off into the distance.
Staring momentarily after it, Robin gawked-- realizing her only defense was gone.
Or was it?Robin grunted as she punched and kicked outward, Trent reflecting them with a coy smile on his face-- but it slowly turned to wonder as her kicks and punches grew faster and more vicious.
Finally, he managed to get in a kick. Sending her away with a screech. Rolling shakily to her feet, she grabbed a wooden plank, using it as a shield as his staff came crashing down.
The plank shattered in her hands and Robin let out a moan as splitters attacked her face, and hands ruthlessly.
But it was better than a blow to the head.
Trent retaliated as the twelve-year old's plank tore his staff in two with a clean blow. Dropping the staff as if it were on fire, he leaped away-- only somewhat gracefully.
In a flash, Robin was on those pieces, taking one in each hand. As Trent stumbled away, she was in a cat-like crouch in an instant. Keeping her legs tense, she prepared to pounce-- two dagger like staffs in hand, as the figure of her best-friend staggered off the floor.
"All-right...! All-right...!" He moaned, clutching his stomach and raising his hands in a obvious sign of peace. "You're proved your worth..."
"Yes, Yes I have," she said smugly- folding her arms and twirling the dagger in between her fingers-- sending them straight into her pocket. She then looked down at her hands and began to pull splinters out of her flesh, grimacing.
"And that you are ready." Robin head jerked up.
The sunlight of the morn, faded through the cracked barn walls sending a beam of sunlight onto his set face.
Trent was a tall teenager, 18 years of age. He had shaggy brown hair that usually was never groomed well-- and Robin often complained, jokingly, about how being with him set a shadow of mess across her.
It was true-- she often was covered in mud, hair messy and tangled like thorns from his intense training.
She cocked her head, looking at his serious face curiously. "Ready?" she echoed.
"Yes. I believe you are," A new voice had joined the conversation, making Robin jerk and twirl around in defense mode.
A tall, older man, with slightly graying hair had emerged from behind several piles of hay, giving her a slight nod of acknowlagement... and prehaps, approval? She gawked at him, how had she missed him?
Robin shot a panicked look over to her friend, but he gave her a glance with a steely glint in his eyes.
Stand down.Robin looked the man up and down suspiciously, it didn't
look like the man had any weapons, but Robin had learned more than once (which was one time too many) to never let your guard down.
Weapons can be as small as a pinpoint, or as large as a skyscraper.
Robin took a tiny half step back before giving the older man a guarded... return nod.
She was extremely surprised when his serious set face transformed into a small, half-smile. "You taught her well," he chuckled, as he gave another tiny
approving nod.
What?! Her mind whirled and she staggered backwards.
"How does he know--?!" Robin cried, her voice was lined with surprise.
"Christina."
The girl's mouth snapped shut, Trent's stern, unspoken command stopping her immediately. Another harsh lesson learned ages ago.
He however, was the practically the only one alive who called her Christina. That, and her mother. Robin was a nickname-- and the girl found it much more suited to her than Christina.
But, Trent, however, had a very good reason for calling her Christina.
"Where is the other one?" The older man spoke again, glancing around.
Ashley.
Robin's twin.
