The cool wind blew unpleasantly on your face, penetrated your clothes, making you cringe and get goosebumps. There were sounds of blows and deafening screams nearby.

Hand–to-hand combat has never been a strong point, and when a massive male figure with dagger-like eyes stands in front of you, your knees bend by themselves and you just have to pray that the first blow of the opponent does not turn out to be the last.

Standing up, Simon looks at the poor girl, who is shivering either from the cold or from fear, which is slightly amusing. Why prove the obvious? No, the man saw no point in humiliating you with defeat.

When a woman's hand hit the air instead of his face, he grabbed his wrist with his hands, pulling his fist away from his cheek. A rough, warm palm lingered on the frozen limb. Compared to his paw, you looked like a porcelain doll.

"Keep in mind that your opponent is not going to stand there and wait for you to hit him. He will dodge."