Tori watched as March ventured down the street. The dog ran out from a nearby alleyway, stopping in the middle of the road. Foil followed it. As rumpled as March was, her hair in some disarray, Foil was crisp, hair straight. She didn’t look like someone who had been up all night.

No, not until she moved. Tori saw and delighted in the faintest sway, as the girl turned and dismissed the hound, bidding it to step to one side.

March had slept like a baby until the early dawn hours, and they’d languished in bed. As messy as she was, she was sharp mentally.

“You found me,” March said.

“There were sightings. The hound got me the rest of the way.”

“Perfect,” March said.

Foil drew her weapon.

March was the first to move. A dash forward, weapon thrusting. Foil’s weapon shimmered before it met March’s. A small, localized explosion marked the conflict between the two powers, each nullifying the other.

There was no attack, defense, pause here. March maintained the attack, one parry becoming a thrust in the next instant, every step of her foot an attempt to slip past Foil’s guard. She leaned back as the blade passed within a half-inch of her throat.

“Close,” March said. “Closer than I in—”

Foil stabbed, and March was forced to stop talking while she dodged the onslaught that followed. She found an opportunity to take two quick steps back, then returned. Instead of an attack that was parried or avoided, it was attack met by attack. Two rapiers, and for what looked like five consecutive thrusts, the tip of each rapier met the tip of the other.

Foil threw nails, augmented with her power, and March avoided them. March struck at the ground, sending power-infused dirt in Foil’s direction, and it detonated in the air. Foil turned away from it.

“One of my arms is pretty torn up. I’m doing pretty well considering—”

“Stop talking,” Foil barked the words. “I don’t want to hear your voice.”

March laughed.

“Don’t fucking laugh!”

Foil advanced, harder this time. March spun with every step, each spin seeing the blade catch at the ground as it passed her left or right and met Foil’s blade every time she faced Foil. Once, it seemed, while her back was to the woman. Foil sidestepped the dirt that exploded with scintillating colors, pressing the attack.

Tori’s hand moved. If she tugged Foil…

Foil threw more nails. March struck three of them out of the air. The fourth found its way to Tori’s middle finger, embedding it to the doorframe. Her knees buckled with the pain.

“Poor form!” March said, jovial.

She didn’t care.

Then Tori didn’t either. She used her power. A tug, to pull Foil off balance.

March’s swing was already underway. Foil hastily parried it, then fell, because she was off balance.