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The blade slashed he hand and she ignored it. He was breathing hard, obviously tired, but he'd also just landed a brutal hit only a moment before. There was no way she was letting her guard down, no way she was giving an inch.

A whistle cut through the air, and Peyton surged forward. He was watching, she couldn't disappoint him. Would never disappoint him, not if she could help it.

Her left fist came forward, angling up at Noah's chin, before the right fist came from the side and slammed into the side of his jaw. Powerful and precise. She dug her toes in, turned into it. Putting her entire shoulder into that last, deal sealing strike.

It had to be now. If she didn't end it now she would fall, and she didn't want to fall.

HP: 3
DMG: 9

Jordan stood up, grinning and applauding. "Great job," he called down to Peyton. "Hell of a fight." He started down the dune. That had been a close one; as tired as she looked and as hard as the fight had been, her shield had to be pretty close to breaking too. She might need a shoulder to lean on to get back to the main area to rest. Even if she didn't, there was the other kid to think of, too. Someone ought to haul him back.

Noah fell, and Peyton let out a victorious cry that was equal parts relief and pride. That had been close, really close. One more good hit and it would have been her laid out on the sand instead.

She heard Jordan, and she turned to grin at him as he made his way down the dune towards the pair of trainees. "Thanks, that was too ******** close. New guy has done power behind his swing." A hand came up to her side, and she let out a small hiss, shaking her head as she recalled the view of the cleaver sunk into her hip.

An arm snaked over her shoulders, and Peyton turned her head up to regard Taym with an overly pleased smile before leaning gently into his side. She was tired. Maybe not that tired, but she would take advantage of whatever had promoted his sudden hands-on show of support. Solomon wasn't around, so that really only left one possible source.

She had a vague understanding of the animosity, but wasn't entirely sure how that translated into a willingness for casual touching. Jordan didn't like her in any way that would warrant Taym giving him, or her for that matter, a hard time.

Taym was not above cheap tricks to accomplish his goals. Peyton was touchy-feely. He'd leverage it to pry her away from Jordan, with whom, he was distressed to see, she was clearly on at least somewhat-friendly terms.

Thus motivated, he gave her a little one-armed squeeze. This had the effect, curiously, of turning her towards a retreat, and his conversation by the nature of their body language shut Jordan out of the exchange. "Congratulations. Had me on tenterhooks for a bit."

"You and me both," she admitted with a laugh, letting him steer her away from the fighting ring abd the other two men, one conscious, one not. A thoughtful frown appeared as she glanced back over her shoulder at the trainee on the ground that Jordan was currently attending to. "That last hit was a little bit over kill." Effective, obviously, but she probably hadn't needed to knock him silly. She would have to find him later ago she could shake his hand, he'd been a great opponent, and he deserved acknowledgement for it.

Well, past round two. Looks like you were right." She wouldn't say she was exhibiting more skill one handed then her opponents, but she imagined having been there quite a while already wasn't hurting her chances. Both her matches had been incredibly tight though, and it was only going to get harder, but she'd made it to round three, injured. That was definitely something to be proud of.