Drabble: challenge for the word "knee."
The last bit of candle wax pooled - the short wick sputtered and died, taking the final remnant of light with it. Plunged into unrelenting darkness, sans the warm glow of candlelight, her once cozy subterranean room felt more like a tomb. Tendrils of terror crept along her spine, robbing her of coherent thought. Someone, or something, was behind her!
Spinning, she kicked out. Her booted foot made contact, eliciting a soft grunt of pain. Triumph replaced terror as something solid dropped to the floor.
A soft footfall, accompanied by the stab of circular light encompassed her. Blinking rapidly, she drew her slender body into fighting stance, ready to take down another assailant.
"Easy." A faintly familiar voice whispered. "Take it easy, Vala. It's me, General Jack O'Neill."
The halo of light slid down her body, then along the floor. Finally settling over the downed body of Daniel Jackson; who lay curled up on his side, his face scrunched in obvious pain, hands clutching his groin.
"Oops."
The general whistled softly. The halo of light moved on - leaving Daniel to the dignity of darkness. The harsh light suddenly flipped upward, ghoulishly lighting the smirking face of a certain silver-haired general, whose bushy left eyebrow arched ironically. "Lovers spat?"
"No." Vala replied, biting her lower lip. "More of a knee-jerk reaction."
