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Two figures emerge from the dark woods

a thick fog spun through the trees

like a silk web

a pregnant moon illuminates the field

frantic screams of desperation

their blades swing exhaustively

at each other

clanging steel

rattling mail

beads of sweat roll down their faces

bloodshot eyes glaring at each other

a betrayer

they will fight to the death

a thrust, riposte, then parry

only one walks away