The fight was more vicious than any they’d had before. The two swore as they grabbed at each other, thumping fist into skull and knee into ribs. They wrestled in the dirt and gravel scored across their faces.
After hours they fell, their bodies bruised and exhausted. Still they cursed each other with hot oaths.
A nurse found them lying in the mud, a pool of blood between them.
‘Whose blood is this?’ she asked.
They looked but shook their heads. ‘I cannot tell,’ each said.
‘If you cannot tell whose blood is whose then why do you spill it?’