Free Moonstone Promise by Karen Wood

saw Tex holding out two thick black textas. ‘This is how we do it these days. Tyson’s just playing with you.’
    Luke ran his eyes from Tex to Tyson, who stood there grinning, challenging. It irritated the hell out of him.
    There were no evident scars on Tyson’s body, and Luke wondered whether he was really good at this game or really bad at it, or maybe he had never really done it with knives before. But then he hadn’t seen Tyson’s back. He began circling, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. Tyson moved against him, denying him the chance to find out.
    Luke lifted his shirt up over his head and threw it on the ground. Tyson’s eyes ran over his torso and Luke spotted the fleeting look of shock that most people got when they saw his ribs. ‘I’ve taken on bigger than you before,’ said Luke, not taking his eyes off Tyson.
    â€˜And come off second best,’ noted Tyson, his expression noticeably different from moments before.
    Luke pulled his knife blade out of its handle. ‘You don’t know that.’
    Tex’s hand wrapped around his wrist. ‘You don’t need to do that, boy.’
    â€˜Yeah, I do,’ said Luke, without taking his eyes off Tyson. He shook off Tex’s hand, and continued to step cautiously around the big man. Then without hesitating, he lashed out and swiped hard across Tyson’s left shoulder.
    The knife was blunt, but it left a mark all the same, and a trickle of blood dribbled down into the man’s armpit.
    Tyson barely moved, but his eyes blazed suddenly with anger. He crouched, as if ready to pounce and a menacing, don’t-mess-with-me look came over his face.
    Luke’s felt a sudden surge of confidence. ‘C’mahhhn, I’ll take it easy on you,’ he teased, mimicking Tyson’s earlier words.
    â€˜Cocky,’ noted Tyson, stepping carefully around, eyes on Luke.
    There were other voices, Tex’s and Bob’s, but Luke didn’t listen. He couldn’t take his eyes off Tyson. He had started something.
    Luke lunged, hoping to surprise him again. Tyson lifted an arm, nearly dislocating Luke’s elbow, then came around behind him with the other hand and slashed lightly across his back.
    The stroke left a scorching line of cold and, although it didn’t feel deep, it was enough to make Luke’s anger boil. He wanted to hurt Tyson this time, cut him real good, but something stopped him: the same something that steadied Tyson’s stroke and kept it in check. Luke would have to wear the same scar, bear the same injury. By hurting Tyson, he would be hurting himself.
    It added a new element to the fight, that was for sure: self-control, which Luke had never been able to master. When he fought, he was usually just lost in a haze of anger. But unless he wanted to end up in pieces, he’d have to master that quickly. He breathed a few deep breaths, and as he did so, Tyson danced to the side and swung his knife again.
    Luke jumped backwards, retreating into bushes. His bare feet landed on sharp sticks and spiky leaves. He stumbled, then crashed onto his back with a heavy thud.
    Tyson looked down at him. ‘You get the idea now?’
    Luke snarled and snapped his knife shut. He tossed it at Tyson, who snatched it out of the air and extended a hand to help him up.
    Luke pushed the hand away. ‘Whatever.’
    As he picked himself up off the ground, Tyson slapped him on the back and Luke swung at him. He wasn’t ready to make nice just yet, he was still pumped with adrenaline and anger.
    Tyson ducked easily and held out Luke’s knife. ‘Want another go, my friend?’
    Luke walked past him without speaking.
    Over by the ute, Tex took Luke by the shoulders and turned him about, inspecting his back.
    â€˜Is it bad?’ asked Luke, twisting to look over his shoulder.
    â€˜Is what bad?’ asked Tex. He pushed Luke away, finished with him for the moment, and walked over