The blades whistled, cutting the malleable air and throwing through the loosely closed eyelids a short reflection of the daylight. The image of a cat, in my head parried a double blow and made an attack on the left, after which he cleverly hooked my legs. I jumped to the side, and, falling sideways, with a practiced technique, leaving the bottom attack. Mahral opened up a bit. Lures. His favorite strategy, to impose close combat and come close, when his two blades are almost impossible to track, hit the hips or the body.