Seemingly the only one unfit for warfare was having her own little tussle. The man lunged at her with his arm straight out and she forced it down with a blow to the wrist. She then lost her balance on a glob of moss, seeing him slide his hand from under the stick and slither around her.

She felt the weight of a sack of shit on her back as she was kneed into the ground. She swung the stick out to the side and traded positions. He was on his hands and knees on the ground and she held the stick in both hands - the thinner end pointed right at his stomach. She should have ran.

He scrambled to his feet and smacked the stick to the side, knife ready to pin to her throat  before she could even push him back. He was backing her up with the blade shining in the soft light, his creepily delighted expression made her grimace.

[i]'Stupid bitch. I oughtta learn you to act better,'[/i] he spat at her.

She could barely stumble backwards fast enough to avoid the blade. She shuffled to the side and felt a thorn prick the back of her arm. She paused just long enough for her to smell his breath. 

In one motion she dropped the stick, put that arm on his opposite side and spun around using all of her strength to shove him into the bush that pricked her. She toppled on top of him as the thorns swallowed him. The red-faced man was desperately trying to free the arm that held dearly to the knife as she laid on it, her eyes never moving from the blade. 

There was a half of a moment of stillness as the bastard struggled to get his arm free and she heard shouts in the distance. She couldn't hold him and it was likely that her comrades were being slaughtered at this very moment.