Wishing she had thought to change out of her dress, more worn and tattered than it had been earlier that day, Elayra hooked her sword belt around her waist, her quiver of arrows still inside by her pack. After looking over her surroundings, searching the shadows for evidence of any enemies lurking about, she drew her sword.
	The long, curved blade slid from the sheath, the gentle sound a whispered reassurance from an old friend in this world filled with unfamiliar uncertainties. She ran a hand down the flat of the blade, ever careful of its double edges, her touch almost tender. The blade glinted a majestic blue in the light of the small flame still hovering near her.
	Removing her hand, she swung it a couple times, stepping expertly with each swing, testing how much strength she had recovered from filling her stomach and taking what could not have been more than an hour’s nap. 
	Though she had regained enough strength to stand and brandish the weapon, a dull ache still lurked in her muscles. But as much as the impending match was punishment for her for mouthing off, she knew it would help sate some of the Curse’s effects. At least, if it would act the same here as it did in Wonderland. If it would help Drust, she would give it no less than everything she had.
	Elayra took a deep breath, and her hand tightened on the saber’s hilt. She loathed the volatility of it all, from the Curse to Ghent, and everything that fell in between.
	She shook her head as frustration heated her chest. She could not afford to dwell on that. Now more than ever, she needed to have enough level-headedness for the both of them. If that was even possible.
	The door to the shack-of-a-shed creaked open behind her.
	She spun around, her sword swinging with her, ready to draw it in to block any possible attack.
	Drust, his katana strapped to his back, stepped back and raised a hand, a tight-fitting gauntlet protecting his arm from fist to the crook of his elbow. Elayra’s sword clanged to a stop against the gauntlet, the metal of the armored glove a dirtied shade of white.
	“Not here,” he snapped, his red flame extinguishing as he pushed her sword out of the way. He jerked his head toward the side of the shed, then turned before she could see how much of him was ruled by him, vs. the Curse.
	Wiping any emotion besides arrogant determination from her face, she followed Drust silently to the back of the shed.
	The scent of an impending rain rode a gentle, cool breeze as he led them to a space not far behind their shelter. A few trees spotted the area, providing a few obstacles to work around, hopefully far enough from the road for the sound of battle to not carry to anyone who happened to pass by.
	Drust gestured for her to stop, then took a few more lengthy strides from her.
	“Fists or blades?” she asked as he turned to her. She glanced to his gauntleted hands, unsure which would be worse. 
	Something between a sneer and a smirk pulled at his lips. “Brighten your flame.”
	Elayra’s eyes narrowed fractionally at his lack of answer. [i]That’s never good.[/i]
	“Elayra!” he hissed harshly at her short delay.
	She concentrated on the small lick of fire and the sensation of magic surrounding it, giving it the order to grow.
	The flame twisted, then grew larger and brighter.
	“You were once rather talented in magic, for a toddler of human birth.” Drust drew his katana without looking from Elayra. The magical firelight reached him, glittering in his eyes; though the colors of the Curse were still more prominent than she would like, it had, at least, diminished slightly. “Many of [i]her[/i] subordinates can see in the dark.”
	“I’ve only known that for [i]how[/i] long now?” she said with a slight roll of her eyes. 
	Drust snarled at her, the Curse’s colors pulsating, and she sobered, snapping her mouth shut and taking a defensive stance, her left side angled away from him.
	“Don’t let your light go out,” he ordered sharply. He muttered something under his breath.
	Elayra's body tensed, ready for some kind of magical attack, but instead, a pale green light flashed over his eyes, then vanished.
	Her brows furrowed for a moment in curiosity, before, without warning, he lunged at her, his sword’s reach far greater than hers. She slid to the side, his sword slicing through the air, and her flame dimmed slightly as her full attention turned from it.
	Drust angled both his sword and body to swipe his weapon sideways at her, but Elayra jumped back and moved her sword to swat it off course, just managing to step around a tree trunk.
	Instead of returning the attack, she stepped back, hoping to lead him to where the trees grew closer together, where the length of his sword could potentially be turned into a disadvantage in close quarters. 
	Drust smirked, and came at her again, bringing his sword down toward her with both hands.
	Elayra, one leg back so her body dipped down, raised her saber horizontally above her, its flat side ready to take the blow and a palm bracing it near its tip milliseconds before Drust’s katana clanged hard against it.
	She gritted her teeth at the jarring impact, her flame sputtering without her complete control and dwindling further. She spared it only a glance, trying to stabilize it as a short-lived spark fluttered toward the ground, but Drust gave her little more time than that.
	Using the rebound of his blade hitting hers, with impeccable speed, he arced the blade down to the side then up toward her stomach, the metal glinting maliciously in the remaining light. 
	Hiding her fear behind a snarl, Elayra barely managed to jump back and knock his sword away with hers just enough to avoid more than adding another tear to her dress.
	He readied to swing again, but they were now deep enough into the thicker part of the skimpy woods to prevent him from gaining full momentum without losing his sword to a tree. Apparently realizing this, he offered her a smirk on the verge of approval.
	Instead, mid swing, he drew his sword back, and, with a twitch of his neck, hurled it forward.
	Elayra, her eyes widening, yelped and jumped aside. Her back hit a tree, and the flame sent off a shower of sparks with her surprise, the light shrinking even further.
	“Drust!” she squeaked out as his katana embedded deep into a tree trunk behind where she had stood. “You’re not supposed to actually [i]kill[/i]—” 
	She gasped and jumped away as he swung at her with a gauntleted fist. The metal plates protecting his fingers swatted the fabric of her garment just below her rib cage. She looked to his face, but the scant light that remained was not enough to make out his eyes. Not that she needed it to guess how far the Curse had consumed them.
	“Drust!” She raised her sword and hand beside her in a show of surrender. “I think we should call it good for to—“
	Drust aimed another punch at her jaw.
	Elayra ducked beneath it, and swiped her sword at his stomach, hoping to make him back off. The tip of her blade sliced through the fabric of his shirt, but before she could tell if it did any damage beyond that, she shouted in pain as his fist collided with her, sending a burst of pain through her side.
	What remained of her flame sizzled out as she stumbled away. In the complete darkness of this part of the park, she slipped on a patch of grass and leaves still wet from the earlier rain. She turned mid fall to land on her back, raising her sword protectively in front of her, listening for Drust.
	“You’ve lost your light, little blind mouse,” he taunted from off to her left, the sickeningly familiar gravely tone once more in his voice.
	[i]I wasn’t provoking it![/i] her mind screamed in fearful confusion.
	“Drust, listen to me,” she began, trying to sound as bold and fierce as she could as she hurried to her feet. “You need to go back. I-I think this place is effecting the Curse in you.” Trying to avert her focus to her other senses to locate him, she stood still, her sword held in front of her. “I’ll wait for—”
	She gasped and stumbled forward when another fist slammed into her back. She swung around with her sword, and the clang of the blade being blocked by one of his gauntlets rang through the woods.
	With her eyes adjusted as much to the dark as they could get, turning the brighter areas of the world into blurry lumps of gray and black, she heard and felt the vibrations of Drust sliding his gauntlet over the blade to grip the sword. 
	He pulled it and her forward, trying to disarm her, but she refused to let go. She brought her leg up in a swift kick. With a sense of satisfaction, she felt it hit its mark, making Drust grunt, but the sensation was short-lived.
	Before she could retract her leg, he gripped her ankle and forced her to turn, one hand still gripping her sword. Kicking her knees out from beneath her, he quickly adjusted his grip to her wrist and pulled her arm painfully straight behind her, his other hand pressed against the back of her head. 
	She inhaled sharply as he twisted her wrist, and she dropped her sword. Gritting her teeth, the metal of his gauntlets cold against her skin, she moved as quickly as possible. She ducked forward, ignoring the pain the action sent through her shoulder, twisted her body and arm so she had better leverage, gripped his wrist as well as possible, and pulled at him as hard as she could.
	Drust snarled as, caught off-guard, he stumbled forward and slipped on the same slick area as she had.
	Before his weight toppled onto her, she kicked out in the dark, hitting her unseen mark, then heard him land instead beside her. She swiftly drew her dagger, and tried to straddle him. Her palm landed on one of his shoulders, and she placed the blade of her dagger to where she thought his neck was.
	“Drust! Snap out of it!” she begged.
	He gave another snarl, before one hand gripped her dagger-wielding wrist, and the other pressed against her back to force her into him. He rolled over so he was on top of her, pinning her other arm between them, and twisted her hand so the wavy blade of her dagger rested at her throat near her ear, her chest heaving from a mix of exertion and fear.
	[i]Magic! There’s magic here![/i] she reminded herself. She reached out to it mentally, straining to think of a command to give it that could help her.
	“[i]Inexus![/i]” she breathed, her eyes closed, hoping it was the correct command.
	With a surge of power, Drust was thrown from her, the blade of her dagger sliding over her jawbone and creating a stinging line.
	The thick [i]thud[/i] of Drust hitting a tree was followed by a heavy groan as Elayra struggled back to her feet and summoned another lick of flame. The golden light illuminated the forest, revealing Drust slumped, apparently unconscious, at the base of a tree.
	With drops of sticky red seeping from the cut on her jaw line, she retrieved her sword before slowly approaching Drust, unsure if he was really out, or tricking her. Her dagger lay on the ground just outside his relaxed palm, his chest rising and falling evenly.
	Tentatively, Elayra tapped her foot against his, then hurried back a step. When he did not stir, she tried again, to the same effect.
	She rested a hand on the side of her neck, staring at him with a mix of concern, fear, and indecision.
	She needed to tie him up, to keep him from attacking if unconsciousness was not enough to bring him back to her. With a shaky hand, she collected her dagger, her eyes never leaving his face as she neared enough to take it.
	Taking a deep breath, she wiped away a streak of blood she felt dripping down her chin, then sprinted back toward the shed, hoping she could find something to tie him up with and return before he awoke.