The heavy sound of metal clanking followed by the pain filled grunts were echoed in the vastness of the mountain, the both of you were tired— though your prides were not letting up anytime soon. Not wanting to admit defeat.

The both of you knew that if you didn’t get food or water soon, no one would win.

He drops his sheathed axe into the snow, then swiftly dodges your attack. Grabbing yours and throwing it to the side, he then tackles you into the soft bed of snow beneath the both of you. A small wheeze came from his chest everytime he breathed, the exhaustion enveloping the two of you.

“We need..to get back to the town.” He manages between breaths, as he then grabs one of the axes. Pressing it against your palm, until a wound opened, then did the same to his own. Then helping you up with the wounded hand. As a unspoken truce between the two of you.