The tip of Frostfang rested against Hajin's throat, cold enough to numb the skin and sting his eyes. Yenna was weeping, silent tears freezing on her cheeks while her gaze stayed fixed on the middle distance.
"Run!" she sobbed, her sword hand as steady as a statue's.
"You're crying, Frost Fang, that's usually how I know someone doesn't mean it," he said softly, not moving an inch.
Her teeth chattered around every word, "I can't stop it, my arm won't listen to me."
Her wrist flicked once, quick as a snake, opening a hot line across his collarbone.
'Damn, she's fast, faster than she was on the roof by a mile.'
"Yenna, look at me, you're stronger than whatever is writing on you," he said, voice rough.
"I'm trying, I'm trying so hard I can taste blood," she sobbed, driving the point forward once more.
'I'm not going to hurt her, I'd sooner cut off my own arm.'
