She was small, but she was strong enough to knock some sense into the man – the sense of realisation that he had messed with the wrong damn person this day. That the tide of a battle could be changed merely by a person’s newfound rage at seeing another die at their own hands. When they stopped caring about self-preservation and let their body take control rather than the cunning of their mind. When they would throw themselves foolishly into danger rather than courting it in a graceful dance.
