![]() Though now it feels as though he’s always been by my side, we only became friends about six weeks ago. TORRIN WALKS ME HOME, as he’s done every day for the last month. I feel my skin split across my cheekbone as my face wrenches backward.įinally, through a blood-soaked face, Havard says, “Apologies.” I let him up, and training resumes. After dropping his own weapon, he sends his now-free hand toward my face. But he uncurls his fingers, wraps them around the shaft, and traps my ax in place. When he sends a returning fist my way, I move to block it with my ax. ![]() For one day, I will be his ruler, and if I cannot keep one bully in line, I’ll never be able to look after a whole village. The blow catches him on the chin, and I’m pleased by the way my knuckles smart. His eyes were trained on my ax, not my free hand. Because I know he’s not expecting it, I fling my fist at Havard. For the last ten years, I have learned very little other than how to handle an ax. And when I would come home covered in bruises from my shins to my cheeks, Father began training me at home, too. ![]() He said I scurried like one every time I tried to find my feet after he’d knock me down in training. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |