I was left with a book in my hand and confusion on my face. It looked old and used, with a slightly faded title.

“Dawn or Knightfall” I read out loud, surprised that the director had kept that part and not changed it for his damn vibes.

Guess I was right about the young adult novel thing.

I turned the book over to read the summary, because who the fuck had time to read the entire thing? I just needed to know what was happening enough to function on set.

'The Sappy Love Story Cliché meets Distressed in this new tale of a female knight and the handsome commander who saves her life.'

That didn’t clear up a thing. Did I really need to read the entire fucking book?

Well, I had four hours until the next stunt…

I opened the book and started to skim through it.

'Prologue.

Tiara was not like the other girls.'

Aaand… hated this already.

Who was Tiara, anyway? There was no Tiara on the call sheet.

After skimming for a while, I found out a few things. One: the main character was meant to be Tiara, a badass female knight who worked her way up and got hand-picked to go on a mission for her kingdom with an elite group. Not a girl in skimpy armor who danced on top of balconies.

Two: there were no elephants, and certainly no elephants in war paint. Only a girl with a dream, horses, swords, armor, and love.

And also… some hints.

Like how the commander, Tiara’s love interest, acted in a way that made me question if he was really meant to be Tiara’s love interest.

What a mess this whole thing was.

I paced around the set, book to my nose and losing track of time until Cory came running up to me.

“Jade! There you are!” He rested his hands on his knees as he panted. “Been looking everywhere for you. They are setting up for the fight scene. You have to be there in five minutes, and it’s in the woods outside of town!”

“Cory, have you read this?” I completely ignored his woes and shoved the book up to his face.

Cory shook his head. “No. Do I look like I enjoy tween girl stories?”

“Actually, in the book the main character is in her twenties, not eighteen” I corrected, and then the word vomit came out. “And also, she’s kind of a badass and wears normal armor that would actually have a purpose in battle. This was clearly supposed to be something with a more feminist twist.”

Cory took the book out of my hand and tossed it onto a nearby table. “You’re reading too much into this. I don’t even think the director read the book.”

“That’s evident by the fact that this is a disaster. He hasn’t gotten anything other than the title right.”

“So?” He attempted to drag me towards the set, but I pulled away.

“So, there isn’t supposed to be silly dances and skimpy armor. The book isn’t a masterpiece or anything, but at least it respects its female lead.”

“Stop. It’s not your job to fix the script. It’s your job to get hit in the face with an elephant and survive.”

“You know, the book doesn’t have elephants. Horses, Cory. It has actual horses.”

Cory pointed to the costume trailer, probably wishing he’d chosen someone else for the gig right about now. “Get into costume.”

“That costume? It’s ridiculous, by the way,” I said as I backed up to the trailer. “It looks like a Spartan Halloween costume. This book is a renaissance story.”

Cory didn’t have another response and simply walked away back to the set.

Before I went to put on that horrible excuse for armor, I snuck back and picked up the book.

I was keeping this close to me, for now.

It’s not like this next stunt could be any worse…

“A FIGHT SCENE?” I yelled at Cory as the five enemies I was supposed to fight stretched on the hot set, which was nothing more than a small clearing between some trees. “I haven’t learned any choreography!”

Cory was attempting to add mini-Mattys to my back, but the thin bits of fabric didn’t leave many places to hide them.

That’s what made stunt women so badass. The men could stuff all the padding under their clothes, but often the women were dressed in outfits too tight or too skimpy for that.

It wasn’t new to me, but it felt worse here, somehow. 

“We don’t use choreography, here,” Arri said, once again popping up from out of nowhere to spit his absurd perspective on everything I said. “Choreography makes everything feel so… planned. Stilted. Like it was rehearsed.”

“It is rehearsed. That’s what makes it look good!” Normally, I wouldn’t yell at my director, but this man had no place on a multi-million dollar film set. “How do you expect me to do this?”

“You have to just do it. You gotta feel the—”

“Vibes. Yeah. I got it, thanks,” I said and grabbed a dented old sword from the prop master standing beside us.

Cory received the dirtiest stink eye from me as I walked to my first mark.

The five guys ready to fight me looked about as apprehensive as I did.

All we knew was at some point I was supposed to get shoved into a tree and collapse.

At least the swords weren’t sharp. I wouldn’t doubt for a second that Mr. Director would use sharpened swords for authenticity vibes. 

Once we were all in place, I took in the scene. Trees. Lots of trees. The dirt wasn’t too loose, which was good for traction. There wasn’t much wind. The sword was fairly light for its size, and the book in my hand—

Shit. I still had the book.

I shoved the whole thing beneath the crash pads on my back. That would hold it tight to me for one take… I hoped.

Breathe.

I could do this. 

I had fencing training, and I could only assume the extra stuntmen did too.

This was my place.

This was all familiar to me.

This was where I thrived.

Let’s go.

I bowed my head, and said my prayers to all the tiny Mattys on my back.

“Action!”

For a moment the set lights flashed so brightly that my eyes burned and all I could see were black spots with glowing edges.

After I blinked a few times, my vision went back into a blurry focus, but from what I could gather, things looked… different. 

Things felt different.

A shimmering bit of silver slashed past my head before I had time to even consider what happened. The thing nearly struck me in the head. 

I jumped to the left to dodge, but landed a bit weirdly and struggled to ready my own sword for impact. 

Another sword flashed from the side of my clearing vision before I got mine out.

Wow, these stunt guys really went at it. I had no room to breathe.

Choreography would have been so useful here.

I managed to get in a single strike as one of the extras approached me—a hilt right to his face, stopping mere centimeters from knocking him cold. If there was one thing I was good at in fight scenes, it was making sure I got as close as possible to hitting someone without connecting.

But the extra didn’t respond. He gave me a weird, confused look before throwing a slash at me.

I twisted my body out of the way, but I didn’t move as easily as I normally did.

I was heavy. Too heavy.

As someone who’d been trained to be in full control of my body at all times, because realistically my life depended on it, that was a foreign feeling.

It was the damn armor.

I was being weighed down by my armor?

That skimpy thing that couldn’t be more than a few threads and back-padding?

I fell from the failed twist, rolling out of the way to not get hit by the next sword.

Shit, these guys were for real.

There was no hesitation, no coordination, they just went directly for my throat. If I didn’t get back up quickly, I would end up as a pig on a spear… or in a can.

Fine. If that was how we were playing it, I was all in.

Let’s fight, bitches.

Though the armor was unfamiliar, I had trained with more weights than this.

Time to fight back.

Time for action.

With one smooth move, I do a kip-up and land on my feet. Even in heavy armor, I can rock that move. 

Readying my sword in front of me, and protecting my face, I glance around mapping who is where and how I can take them down.

Two in front, one behind, one on each side.

Easy.

First, secure distance.

Second, dominate the space.

Third, attack.

I swing my sword at an angle, using the continuing momentum to turn around to the one in the back as it moves.

Following through the swing, I twist the sword mid-air to hit him with the hilt, getting a clean strike on his temple. 

With a thump, his body hits the ground.

He might have a serious headache later, but he’ll live.

Four left.

Without stopping, I move directly to the one on the left, jumping and swinging my sword downward.

But, instead of hitting with my sword, I hook-kick him in the head, making sure to control my strength so I don’t hurt him too badly. He crumples to the ground, out of commission for now.

Three left.

I can hear two to the side and one in the back, catching up.

While breathing deeply, I turn on my heel and kick off the ground for more speed.

I go straight for his legs, diving to the ground, and I slide them out from under him. 

He joins me on the ground. Hard. 

That’ll stall him for a while, allowing me to focus on the last two who were about to gang up on me.

I ‘borrow’ the sword he was holding, and throw it between my on-coming attackers. My skills are at least good enough that I can get it close enough to scare, but not close enough to harm.

They split up to the sides to avoid the attack, just as planned. 

I go directly for the one on the right, favoring a pivot on my left leg to circle-kick him the moment he gets too close.

Down he goes.

One left.

I use the force of my kick to once again turn, take a deep stance, and await the last one’s attack.

He comes at me with his sword raised up over his head, full of openings.

Amateur.

His sword is raised far too high over his head, and one kick on his abdomen throws him off balance. He falls backward with a huge and heavy clunk.

I stand for a second, catching my breath, but immediately get caught up in an unwanted grapple, raising me towards a big tree.

Shit. The one guy I didn’t knock out.

He isn’t giving up.

This isn’t one of those films where the guy gets hit in the face and rolls off-screen, never to be seen again, huh?

I am caught between his arms and his armor as we both smash into the tree.

The air in my lungs flees on impact of getting squished between the trunk and a man twice my size, leaving me crippled, but with just enough power to headbutt my assaulter.

It probably hurts me more than it hurts him, but it does the trick. He loosens his arms just enough for me to push him down and kick him in the head.

Down. The last one.

Thank Matty.

I slump down against the tree, exhausted.

Head hurts. Breathing hard.

I did it.

I got knocked into a tree.

Everyone else was down.

I won.

I look up, raising my thumb in victory, waiting for ‘cut’ to be yelled. 

As I looked around, at the downed stuntmen, in a type of  dark armor not like that they’d had on when we started the scene, I noticed there were no people in sight other than the knocked-out knights.

The forest was completely empty.

…where the hell was the crew?