Weapons of Defense

I opted not to tell Jordian and Mag about the weapon I now had tucked in my boot. It felt odd, and I had this idea that everyone could tell, even though I am sure they could not. Uncle Dray would have laughed, thinking I would hit my own toes before putting that blade to any good use. My most sure method of defense was...escape. I could run like the wind and then some. I couldn't wait until I had a place where I could put my feet on solid ground and eat it alive.

The plains stretched out before us in every direction. There was hardly a dimple or swell to mar the surface of muddy green that met the pale tint of sky. Mag and I took turns walking near the wagons and riding atop one of the stiff hard seats. The view up there was breathtaking. Nothing but openness for as far as I could see. It felt so much nicer than trudging through the muck and mire in my solitude. We would camp, drawing the wagons into a tight circle of protection, and I slept soundly, my fingers twisted around the blade beneath what served as a pillow.

A good number of days into the ride, scouts returned reporting that we would soon be meeting up with a camp of the infamous Vaci. This put Jordian in a spectacular mood. He had boxes and sacks filled with beads and jewels, and it was rumored, even gold and silver. He was boasting of the sales he would make, and even how he would walk away with the biggest pot out of all of them. When he slapped my flank as he strolled by, I attributed it to the heady rush of the coming wagering. When he spun me around to plant a kiss in the vicinity of my face, I attributed it to no such thing and planted my palm against his chest in surprise. I did not miss the icy glance of Mag either. I made sure to keep my distance in the following ahns.