Warrior Spirit
The fist shot at her face much faster than she'd expected.
Annja Creed felt certain it would impact somewhere along the bridge of her nose, but at the very last second, her body seemed to take over and jerk her head out of the way. The fist sailed through empty air and as it went past, Annja saw the opening she needed. In the blink of an eye, she fired three punches into the attacker's midsection, scoring solid hits with all three.
"Matte!" The referee's voice barked out above the cacophony of the crowd's cheers. Annja stopped, and sweat poured down her face and into the folds of her karate uniform. The gi was stained with the sweat, dust and exertion of the past three hours.
She turned to the judges and waited. Two white flags went into the air.
Annja beamed but contained her joy over winning the match. Instead she executed a formal bow from her waist to the judges. Then she walked to her opponent, a twenty-something punk rocker with tea-stained reddish-brown hair. He was still bent over, looking for the air Annja had knocked out of his lungs.
As she approached, he looked up and frowned. "How did you do that?"
Annja shrugged. "I thought you had me, Saru. But somehow ... read full excerpt from: Warrior Spirit ebook
