Within seconds, Amber was on the mat, trying not to wince from Jennifer’s rough treatment. She healed herself as she rose to her feet, wishing she could use fireballs. Then it’d be Jennifer losing, not her. “You’re not even trying,” Stanley called out to Amber. “It might help if you actually tried to teach me something.” “You’re a mage, shouldn’t you have some skills in fighting? Or don’t dragons believe in letting mages learn how to fight?” Stanley’s words caused her hands to curl into fists. Glaring at him, she opened one and held it out, letting a fireball form. “They let us fight with more dangerous weapons than fists.” “Used properly, fists can be just as dangerous as your little balls of fire.” She fought the urge to demand he prove it. The dragons’ competitiveness must be wearing off on her. “You have to get close and risk being harmed to kill with bare hands. I can stay out of your reach and kill you from a distance.” “Only if you’re accurate.”
