PAGE SEVENTEEN

1 FORTRESS COURTYARD - CONTINUOUS

Shot of Grip leaping into the air, coming right at us, sword back and ready to strike, face an enraged grimace.

NARRATION
They will not expect me to charge them. I beg the gods that such a tiny bit of surprise is enough.

2 FORTRESS COURTYARD - CONTINUOUS

Grip leaps up onto the rooftop where the bowmen sit and cuts down a ninja who, currently holding a bow, is ill-equipped to fight back at close range.

NARRATION
All I need is one gap in the line to slip through and I am outside the fortress of The Hand.

3 FORTRESS COURTYARD - CONTINUOUS

Another ninja lunges forward and uses an arrow held like a small lance to stab Grip in the side. He howls in pain.

NARRATION
But in fighting a horde of ninja who care nothing for their own lives, no opening is wide enough to pass through without pain.

NARRATION
A flash of light behind my eyes and I taste acid in my throat.

4 FORTRESS COURTYARD - CONTINUOUS

Grip, arrow still stuck in his side, swings his sword and takes down the man who stabbed him.

NARRATION
This man has no further weapon with which to wound me or slow my escape- taking half a second to cut him down is a decision born solely from rage.

NARRATION
And a costly mistake.

5 FORTRESS COURTYARD - CONTINUOUS

The other bowmen have now drawn their swords and attack Grip from every side, one ninja’s sword cutting him down his back and another across his cheek even as he blocks a third attack from the front.

NARRATION
For it gives the other bowmen the slightest fraction of a moment- more time than they need- to unsheathe their swords and take more of my blood.