That was the plan, anyways, but sometimes the opponent was too nimble to be taken down, and other times, they delayed Lisa’s people enough that someone could slip through the line and attack one of our less capable combatants, myself included.
Time to fight. Did you bring your knife?
I held a knife in each hand – my combat knife and the one I’d taken when we’d rescued Charlotte.
Oh yeah!
Sweet, we get dual-wielding Taylor.
When I was forced to fight, I avoided lethal strikes. I had a sense of where the major arteries were and avoided them, even when I knew I could make a quick cut at someone’s wrists or neck. Holding back didn’t do me any favors, and I got smashed in the left ear once, struck in the gut and chest a few times, and a nail that was stuck through someone’s makeshift club sliced the back of my upper arm.
Ouch.
Hm. One day she’s gonna fail to fight non-lethally and end up killing someone by accident, isn’t she, creating more guilt for her to deal with?
Still, Lisa’s soldiers afforded me time to breathe. I remained vigilant for any break in ranks and incoming attacks.
At least the formation helps somewhat, then.
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