[Isaac takes the brunt of the fall, air gusting from his lungs. The pain sharp in his back jacks adrenaline into him, and through the sunspots spattering his vision, he sees his own hand snap out for Hector’s throat before he has even gotten a proper breath in. Hector may not be out to kill him, but his instincts don’t know any better for the moment. The fierce desire to win and the desire to survive are near-inseparable.]
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