Never in all her twenty-three years of living had she ever intended to tackle a fae. Attempt to, maybe, but only if and when the situation called for it. She was always careful to respect her friend’s personal space, never wanting to overstep her boundaries or make him feel uncomfortable. That etiquette, however, was lost to her in the moments that it took to strengthen her stance and surge forward like a professional linebacker.
In a mudfight, there are no prisoners, only survivors.
She had assumed Jade would see her coming a mile away, would side-step her in a display of graceful showmanship or summon a wave of earth that sent her spinning straight into the squishy depths of a second mud puddle, but she had assumed wrong. So. Very. Wrong. Suddenly perched atop his chest, her eyes level with his face, she wasn’t entirely certain which of them was more surprised by the outcome, herself or Jade.
“You ain’t nearly as blind as you claim to be. Hell, I bet you can see better’n I can,” she pouted, lightly punching his shoulder. “I swear I thought you’d manage to dodge me.”
Ava flinched as his fingertips trailed mud across the bridge and tip of her nose, but her willingness to retaliate was immediate as she lingered above him, thrusting a fistful of wet dirt squarely onto his face, careful to avoid his nostrils. “There, now we match. A nose for a nose.”