"Like it's hard," he scoffs with a grin. Come on… Don't play with him! The knife clicks back in place, replaced by the wooden handle of the axe. The weight of it bobs up and down in his grip, getting the feeling down. This is what he's talking about. The air gets swung into a few times, the eye-line connecting the dots between a blade and the forehead of the thing that's staggering closer to them. Bullseye.
"Who needs luck when you've got one of these bad boys?"
SWING
The dotted line--so deliberately calculated--makes a curling knot in the air, forcefully flying, upward, forward, downward. It wallops the ground, handle standing straight up, ready to be plucked. King Arthur awaiting. The straggler declines, walking past it.
A beat. Derek turns on a dime against his heels, a swift breeze through his hair with palms up in a proven shrug.
"See?"
"come on..." the exasperation strains her voice, timed with the impact of the axe on the ground. she couldn't have corrected his throw if she tried, and she wasn't going to waste her time. now they were back at square one, and she was without a weapon in her hand.
she could just push him, let the weight of his body tumble forward into the creature. it would be distraction and meal in one, her getaway secured. but, as with all things derek, she waivers for a moment, and then reaches for the knife tucked into her boot.
it's much smaller, and it's not going to get the job done clean. but, they've still got time before they're in trouble. she offers it to him, the blade flat in her palm. "well?"