I woke earlier than usual from nerves and headed into the training room. I picked up the spear to practice my accuracy but didn’t feel my usual urge to train. My mind was too transfixed on what was to happen. I sat down on the floor with the spear across my lap.
Fighting William. Am I ready for that? Every other time I’ve been solidly beaten. But that one time. And I don’t know how that happened. It was scary, but it was also exciting. How could I harness that? Get it to happen again? But why did it happen? Was it a protective instinct for Leola? If it is then that means it will only come out if she gets hurt, and I don’t want that. Ugh. This is getting me nowhere. I need to train. I stood, stretched, and trained for the few hours before Zanataz showed up. I wonder what my nickname will be this time. I thought with a small smile.
“Mornin’ Stallion. At it early again, I see.” Heh. Nice. Maybe I should think up a nickname for him. Something small and nice. I nodded and tossed a spear the length of the room as I leapt through the air, striking near the center. I sighed with frustration and walked over to retrieve it. “Something wrong?” He asked. “You almost missed the center altogether that time.” I sighed as I walked and talked with him.
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Ready for?” He pressed.
“The tournament. William. I don’t think I’m ready.” I wrenched the spear from the target. He grabbed it from me and pulled me into the sparring circle.
“Let’s find out.” He started putting on his gloves. If I can’t dodge his bare fists, I couldn’t dodge William’s or Sacae’s. I put my hand on his glove, preventing him from putting it on. He looked skeptical for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.” He tossed the gloves aside.
As he turned back to me, I noticed his eyes lock onto me, and his body started to move. I leapt backwards, barely dodging his kick. He moved in quickly, throwing jabs and elbows. Left, right, right, left high, right low. I struggled to keep up. Most of them connected, but were light, glancing hits. He was fast, I barely had any time to react to him.
I have to hit back, disrupt him or I’m done for. I waited for his next right jab, leaned into it, and threw a right jab at his face. His fist hit my cheek, but I was expecting it.
I knew my right jab wouldn’t reach him, so I threw my left jab behind his already outstretched right arm. He caught my right hand and I inched closer as his right arm was pulling back. My left hit him square in the side of the face and I followed it up by throwing my knee into his side. I threw another jab, but he ducked, landing a light jab on my cheek, and moving back away from me, a surprised smile on his face. “Not bad, Croí, not bad at all. Risky, but it paid off. Let’s see if you can do that without risking getting yourself hurt. Just a few more rounds.” His fists came up, along with mine, ready for round two.
Over the next two hours, we fought. I was getting better at reacting to his hits, gauging his feints, and capitalizing on them. He landed upwards of twenty-four hits on me in the first two bouts, not counting the grazing hits, but I only landed five grazing and three solid strikes the whole two hours. I felt frustrated, being so close but seeming to be miles away at the same time. He seemed to see all my hits coming a mile away. My frustration made me sloppy, and he landed a solid hit to my jaw that rattled me. I fell backwards onto my rump, mostly out of frustration, somewhat from a momentary dizziness. “You alright Croí?” I shook my head.
“I’m too slow.” I said, shaking my head, trying to clear the daze. He crouched down in front of me.
“I don’t think so. You don’t realize it, but you’ve got a real talent for this. Bit more training and experience, you’ll be phenomenal.” I sighed. More training? I only have the rest of the day until the tournament, and maybe four or five weeks total until we reach the Island. “Hey. When you face William, don’t underestimate him. Treat him like he’s me. Gauge his strengths, weaknesses, his speed, and accuracy. Then you’ll understand just how much you’ve grown.” Zanataz said with a small smile. I nodded, exhaling in frustration again. “Right then, sourpuss. Time to take a break. Get some water then come back in with everyone else for some accuracy and agility training.” I followed his instructions then focused on the training.
For training this time, Lánn had ‘lost’ her left arm, and Keokin was ‘missing’ his right leg. I kept my spears and wasn’t hurt, aside from being ‘blind.’ We had to protect Leola so she could heal us. Another exercise was all the Guardians were injured and the Supports had to step in to protect the group. Generally, these exercises ended in disaster. I couldn’t hit what I couldn’t see, Leola got ‘killed’ and so did we, and Lánn got tackled off the ‘cliff’ by ánadaí, while William got tag teamed. Even so, we were starting to improve. We adapted much faster and communicated more efficiently with hand signals.
Before I knew it, the bell rang. I felt a hand on my shoulder spin me around. “Come on Croí. Above deck, rest and wait. You’ve done what you can. The training will kick in when it needs to, you just need to focus, let the training do the work.” Zanataz urged.
I guess he’s right, one hour isn’t going to make all that much difference at this point, and if I go up there shaking from exhaustion I’ll lose anyways. I went to the galley, grabbed a small roll, and drank some water before heading up to sit by the railing of the upper deck and waited. Waited for Edorin to call the crew up, waited for him to finish his announcement, then waited for the drawing of names where I went last. Edorin handed me the paper with William’s name on it, then the waiting was over.
“The first match is between Croí and William. Clear the floor.” I stood on one end of the arena floor, going over what I’d learned, then I remembered Zanataz’s advice. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. The training would kick in when it needed to if I focused. Clearing the nerves, clearing the feeling of being watched, clearing the expectation of winning, clearing everything but the fight.
I turned and faced William’s smiling face; my eyes focused on him. His smile slowly dropped, and a slight look of worry and confusion took his face. “Go.” He snapped back at attention, bouncing around for a moment I moved with him, keeping my focus, but creeping closer. He glanced down at my stomach.
He’s going to charge. His head dipped and he sprinted at me. I dipped low, like I was going to challenge his charge, driving him lower, then at the last second, I leapt over him, while pushing on his back, allowing him to slide across the floor. He rose to his feet immediately and charged again. This time I let him hit me, putting him in a headlock while I dug my feet in, keeping my balance. I flexed my sides as he slammed his fists into them. Gauge the strength of his strikes. They had good power, but not as much as Klintock, Zanataz, or Sacae. I let go of his neck and took his wrist instead, using it to manipulate him, moving him away from me as I backed away.
I wanted a striking match. I needed one, to see what my training had done for me. Was I still a scared boy crying in the corner, afraid of William, Sacae, and everything beyond them? Or had I grown into something Kixas, my brothers, my family, would be proud of? William threw a right cross at me first. I dodged it, surprised at the ease I felt. But I wanted to wait, to see if he was holding back. Left, left, right, right uppercut, left from above, side kick, front kick, left, front kick. I backed away from him, he seemed slow. Or maybe I’d gotten faster, more in control.
Was this what Zanataz meant? By understanding how much I’ve grown? I balled my fists. Let’s see what I’ve got William. I moved in, waiting for an opening. William jabbed. I swatted it aside and leaned in for a solid right cross to his cheek in the same movement. He stumbled, unsure, then became enraged, and charged me. I brought my leg up into his lowered chest, stunning him enough to land another hit to that same cheek, stopping his charge and dazing him. He roared with anger, shaking his head and came in again, this time a look of focus and determination on him.
His strikes were faster and more careful. We traded blows, testing each other, catching, and countering strikes. Neither of us landed anything serious. I think I know what you mean Zanataz. I’m faster than him, I see it. I pushed towards him, steadily forcing him back. Smacking aside hits that he threw and countering them with my own. Right to the cheek, left to the abdomen, side kick to the kidney, left to the cheek, dodge. I kept pushing, harder and faster.
He hit me in the cheek with a left I didn’t see coming. Like I did to Zanataz earlier that morning, he threw it while I was mid hit. But I’d taken many stronger hits, it barely phased me now, and training took over for a moment. I grabbed that arm by the wrist kicked his stomach, then jabbed his jaw to daze him, then turned, pulling him over my shoulder and slamming him onto the floor, jumping on top of him as he had done to Leola. I punched him, then again, and again. He hit me, throwing desperate punches between my hits. But I could see his eyes starting to glaze over. I held down his right arm over his neck, giving me a clear shot at his face and struck him three quick times, then pulled back for one last aimed shot at his chin.
In the moment before I struck, I could see him looking up at me, somewhat dazed. Should I hold back? Should I end it here? Then memories of all the times he’d hit me, tossed my food, mocked me and done all those same things to the group flashed through my mind. For a split second, I glared and struck hard.
There was a loud smack, and then his head jiggled and the look in his eyes changed. Almost emotionless, except maybe surprise, he wasn’t fighting back anymore, just lying there. Is he faking it? Feinting to gain an advantage? I looked at Lanaea, realizing now that she was right beside me, her hand touched my chest as she lightly pushed me off William. I knelt next to him, now worried that I’d hurt him more than intended.
“Is he ok?” I asked.
“He’s fine, just a bit dazed.” She lightly tapped William’s cheeks, getting him to focus on her face. “William. Come on William. Focus on me; you’re alright, come on.” Slowly, William blinked a few times and the look in his eyes changed, from dazed back to confused. He looked over at me, angry at first, then as he heard the crowd cheering and Edorin announce the winner, his look turned to one of sadness, his mouth fell open and tears filled his eyes. Small whimpers and gasps escaped him as he pushed my offered hand aside and shoved his way through the crowd, heading below deck.
Lanaea made several hand movements to Edorin and chased after him. I felt a slap on my back as Jael and Klintock ran in to congratulate me. I smiled, accepting surprise hugs from them, but felt a strange sinking in my stomach. That look of sadness from William, I’d never seen him sad before. He was mean, sometimes cruel, but he did help me gut the fish. He was instrumental in making us all dinner every night and helping make boots for Sable and Klintock. He was a part of our group, I didn’t want him to suffer, just conquer my fear of him.
I shouldn’t have thrown that last punch. He was beaten, I didn’t need to hit him again. I thought about going to check up on him but figured he wouldn’t want to see me right now. Lanaea would help him, she was good at that. “Next match, Céírde and Sable.” Edorin announced. We moved out of the arena. Sable had already removed her boots, so as not to hurt Céírde, and handed them to Leola. The more I thought about William, the worse I felt about my victory. A voice rang in my head, loud and clear. I recognized it as Edorin’s.
“Croí. Stop worrying. Cheer your victory and focus on supporting your friends. William’s with Lanaea, he will be fine.” I shook my head; it was a strange feeling having someone else’s voice in my head. But I understood his meaning. I nodded to him and focused on Sable and Céírde’s match.
Sable was moving all over, like she’d done with me. Seeing it from the outside helped me understand what had happened. Céírde was moving too, keeping herself at a distance to avoid any lunging attacks from Sable. Sable realized this and switched to striking, primarily capitalizing on her powerful legs and quick hands. Céírde was careful and precise, dodging or parrying every strike until finally, she caught Sable’s ankle. Sable was off balance, too far forward to retrieve it and Céírde pulled her further back, delivering a kick aimed for her stomach.
Sable’s arms blocked the strike, but she fell to the ground and Céírde twisted the foot she’d caught to put Sable in a leg lock. Sable tapped, smiling at Céírde through her disappointment. Leola and Klintock were next. I was nervous to watch Leola fight, given what happened last time, but accepted that Klintock wasn’t William, and this would be different.
Leola dodged Klintock’s attempts at grappling, remembering her experience with William, opting instead to strike when Klintock tried to grapple, or when he moved within range. Klintock stuck to leg strikes, maximizing his distance, hammering in on Leola’s arms. I could see she was in pain, but she held out, ducking, blocking, and dodging until one time she ducked below Klintock’s kick and threw a kick of her own. He didn’t see it coming and it hit his jaw, knocking him unconscious. The crowd went silent.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Leola looked shocked; the crowd cheered. She did too, surprised that she had landed the blow, then her caring instincts took over and she roused Klintock. The crowd helped her move him out of the arena while he recovered.
Jael and Flint were next, though that fight wasn’t long. Flint jabbed, but Jael countered with her own that rocked Flint. He tried going on defense, but Jael overwhelmed him. Giving him no chance to recover. He gave up before she could go too much further.
Keokin and Lánn were next. As soon as Edorin said go, Keokin held up his hands.
“Can we do grapple only Lánn?” She looked to Edorin, who shrugged. She sighed in relief.
“Yes please.” They circled around each other, looking for openings. Lánn thought she saw one, but it was a trap and Keokin snared her, pulling her to the ground with an arm lock. She struggled, looking panicked. Keokin didn’t ease up but talked to her.
“What’s your other arm doing?” She glanced at him, then realized what he was saying and used her arm to put his leg in a lock. He groaned in pain slightly, then released her arm and broke free of hers, putting her in a headlock from behind. Again, Lánn seemed to panic, and he talked to her. “What’re your legs doing?” She pushed up off the ground, getting to her feet then leaned forward, throwing him over her, holding onto his arm and putting it in a lock. He struggled for a moment, pulling one of her legs off him, but eventually tapped out. He smiled at her. “Well done Lánn.” She huffed, disappointed.
“You went easy on me.”
“No. I gave you advice on how to beat me. There’s a difference.” They smiled.
“Lánn wins. That’s the tournament. Unless any of the crew wish to test their metal. Agers, you know what to do.” The crew cheered; two men rushed to the center. It came to my attention that I had never been to the end of a tournament. I’d always been below deck, at least for the most recent ones. I watched the others as they moved to a table on the other side of the ship that Cairen was tending to. That’s right. Winners get a tankard of ale. I went over to the table. Céírde, Sable and Lánn had two tankards that they were all sharing, Leola and Jael had their own cups.
“Croí! Welcome to the winner’s circle lad. With a superb victory to boot.” Cairen greeted. The others cheered for me.
“That just leaves me as the only loser.” Flint said, disappointed. Lánn put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him after taking a sip of ale, her smile topped with white foam.
“It’s ok Flint. You’ll get it next time.”
“Yeah. Next time.” Jael said. Flint looked at her skeptically.
“Next time it’s us fighting the crew. That’ll be even worse. It’s just because I keep getting stuck with Jael. She’s just a bad match for me.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Sable asked. I took my tankard from Cairen and smiled to him.
“Mind how fast you swig Croí, that’s got alcohol.” Cairen said, bringing my attention away from the conversation taking place. Alcohol? Flint looked flustered as he answered Sable.
“Because she’s bigger and stronger than me. Besides, I don’t like hitting girls.” His cheeks turned red.
“What’s alcohol?” I asked Cairen. He thought for a moment while Sable pressed Flint further.
“Oh yeah, sure that’s what it is. I think there’s another reason you’re uncomfortable around her. Why you don’t want to grapple her and snuggle up to her.” His face went a darker shade of red. Lánn covered her mouth and Leola giggled. I didn’t understand and listened to Cairen’s response.
“Do you happen to remember times when your brothers ‘r sisters would drink something all night, and seemed to turn them into, shall we say, less intelligent versions of themselves?” I nodded. “That’s alcohol.”
I thought back to those times. One of the rare times I had actually been hurt was when Cyclone had some alcohol and used his magic to throw me across the yard into a tree. He laughed and told me not to tell Mother. Kixas would usually have a somewhat permanent silly smile on his face and be very placid unless someone provoked him beyond the breaking point. Ríger would tease people relentlessly and try to coerce them into drinking more, then challenge them to compete in physical obstacles. Bacta would get wobbly and talkative, and would sometimes end up crying, repeatedly telling people that he loved them.
I remember telling myself that I never wanted to drink whatever it was that they were drinking because in those moments, they weren’t my brothers. Cyclone hurt me and laughed. Riger’s teasing became hurtful and coercive. Bacta would cry and hug so hard it hurt, then not let go even when you tried to scream. They weren’t safe to be around anymore.
My sisters weren’t immune from alcohol either. Mili would resist at first, but would eventually cave in. Sealí would contain herself, mostly staying quiet, unless provoked. They would gossip together or play cruel mind games with me. Mili would try to provoke people into fighting each other, then giggle if she started a fight. They all turned into totally different people. My thoughts were interrupted by Flint.
“What do you mean snuggle up? It’s a fight. Grappling, not snuggling. Or maybe you have something you’d like to tell us.” Flint said, glaring at Sable. Sable looked at him with raised eyebrows and a slight smile. Jael interjected.
“Hey now, you two don’t need to be fighting over little old me. Not when all three of us could be fighting right now.” Jael interjected. I turned to Cairen.
“If this will make me like my siblings or their friends those times, then I don’t want it.” I held it out to him.
“Come on you guys, we just got done fighting, we don’t need to fight more, have some ale instead.” Lánn said, trying to interrupt the smiling trio.
“Naught to worry about young sir. This isn’t enough to get you drunk, maybe just a wee bit buzzed is all.” Cairen said as he pushed it back to me.
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“Why don’t you join us?” Jael said, looming over Lánn.
“Now now everyone, let’s just sing and dance instead, before we possibly damage our vocal cords or dancing ability with choke holds and leg locks.” Leola interjected.
“Drunk. That’s the silly or rambunctious bit. Buzzed, tends to remove a bit of your fears and worries. Go on lad, give it a go, and see what you think. If it’s not to your liking, go ahead and pass it along. Just mind you don’t drink too much too fast.” I looked down at the nearly golden liquid in the tankard and the ring of white foam inside. It smelled slightly sweet, like a fruit of some kind, but there was another strong, almost rancid smell that followed it.
“Agreed. Let’s dance.” Céírde stated as she walked over to Cairen. “Cairen. Do you have your lute?” He turned to me.
“It’ll be fine lad.” He turned to Céírde. “Why yes, I do young miss.” The lute was strapped onto his back. With one easy motion, he pulled it around to rest near his abdomen, grabbed it, and walked over, pulling up a chair he’d brought from the galley, sitting on it as he started strumming some chords.
I looked down at the ale again, intrigued by the look and smell, yet repulsed by the memories, and the strange, almost sour smell that came after the sweet. I pulled it up to my lips and took a sip. There was an initial delicious fruity, berry-like flavor, mixed with a sweetness like honey, which was immediately followed by a strange, bitter, burning kick at the very end. I moved my tongue around, tasting the remnants. It was tasty, even the bitter wasn’t bad.
There was a strange after flavor that I wasn’t fond of, not terrible, but not good. I sipped it again, met with nearly the same result. I almost wanted to keep drinking it to keep getting the initial fruit flavor. Not bad. I could get used to it. I leaned against the railing and watched as several crewmen brought out three more instruments, a flute, a violin, and a drum and started playing an upbeat song.
Leola, Sable, Flint, and Lánn all danced to the tune. I watched, holding my tankard gingerly in both hands, sipping from it as they moved in the fading light. Sable and Leola primarily caught my eyes. They were smiling and laughing as they moved, bouncing up and down on their toes, hips swaying back and forth with their hands in the air.
It was so amazing to watch, that I forgot all about the ale. Forgot about the tournament, William, Sacae, the Islands, all of it. I just leaned back against the railing and admired them until the song ended and they laughed excitedly, moving over to the table to get a drink of water. Leola glanced over at me, I tried to pretend like I wasn’t looking their way and practically buried my face in the ale. Then coughed slightly as the kick at the end was a bit much.
I watched Flint trying to learn how to play the lute from Cairen, feeling amused, and sipped from my ale. Lánn was learning how to dance with Keokin. I noticed movement to my right and looked over to see Sable and Leola.
“Are you finished with that? Can I have some?” Sable asked, looking at my ale. I shrugged; I’d had more than half of it. Besides, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it, might as well let her have the rest.
“Sure.” I handed her the tankard.
“Sable stop. You’ve had plenty.” Leola pressed with a small chuckle.
“Maybe you should share it with me then.” Sable stated as she sipped from the tankard. Leola rolled her eyes and held out her hand. Handing Leola the tankard, Sable turned to me.
“Are you gonna dance Croí?” I shook my head.
“No, I don’t really know how.”
“Then we’ll teach you. And hey, you did great today! I didn’t know you could fight like that. Were you holding back against me? Or did you just want to touch my butt?” Sable questioned. Leola nearly spit up her ale and coughed a bit.
“He what?!” Leola asked with shock. Sable laughed, taking the tankard from Leola. I immediately felt embarrassed.
“You said it was ok. You know I didn’t mean to. I was just all turned around.” I sputtered.
“Relax, I’m just teasing you.” Sable said, coming up from the ale. “Come on, we’ll show you how to dance.” Sable handed the tankard back to Leola and grabbed my hand, pulling me out into the open area of the deck.
“You drank pretty much all of it.” Leola accused before finishing the tankard and putting it back on the table, running over to join us. Sable jestingly stuck her tongue out at Leola.
“Right, so first things first. We’ll teach you slow dancing.” She grabbed my hands, pulling my left up with hers and my right down onto her hip. I immediately let go of her hip. She looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “What’s the deal?”
“I’m not supposed to touch people there, it’s creepy.” She grabbed my hand and pulled it back to her hip, chuckling.
“Not if you’re dancing, and I give you permission. Now listen up.” Her hand’s so soft! This is crazy! And she smells nice, maybe it’s the fruity ale on her breath. I felt awkward, but oddly enough, not as awkward as I thought I would be. “Good, now normally the man leads, but for now just follow my lead.” I nodded. Leola giggled with Lánn off to the side. “This is the basic stance, alright? And from here, what you do is just sway your hips back and forth, stepping lightly like this.”
She demonstrated, and I mimicked her to the best of my ability, trying to treat it like it was training. “Good, you’re doing great.” She smiled. “Now let’s try something else, step forward with your right foot.” She stepped backwards and I stepped forward. “Now this way.” We stepped right, then back, then left, back to where we started, in a square. “You’re a natural at this Croí. Good job.” It’s simple, just moving in a square really.
What they were doing earlier struck me as far more complex and intriguing, but I didn’t figure me doing the same thing would produce the same effect. “Now let’s do some more complex stuff, this is… Well I don’t know the technical term, but it’s a twirl. We step closer.” She stepped in and I followed, feeling my cheeks flush a little. “Then we step apart.” We stepped apart and she twirled under my arm keeping hold of my right hand, pulling it where it needed to go, then coming back to the basic stance she’d taught me.
That was fun. This is fun. I was unable to stop a smile. I got slightly distracted when I noticed Lánn and Leola dancing next to us but returned my attention to Sable.
After about ten minutes of dancing, we decided to get some water and sit down for a moment. Cairen stayed on his chair and accepted his lute back from Flint and began playing a familiar tune. I recognized the song as an ode to Klintock and Flint’s father, the Unbroken. A somber, almost mournful tune, but one with a building undertone of hope and courage. A voice came out of the silence to accompany the tune created by the band of instruments. Beautiful and entrancing. It came from Leola. It made all my muscles relax, and I closed my eyes and listened.
“Far away in the west, in a land not their own. The Unbroken Company found their calling, wielding blades well honed.
Royalty pursued by armies, those marked by the beast. Following close behind the Prince, who found safety in the east.
A desperate ride across the countryside, bringing a message of warning. Alas this desperate ride was destined to end in mourning.
Invaders from the east, desperate for glory, met their match when they faced down their quarry.
On the line, our homeland in chains, put to the sword. The Company held strong, a wall against the horde.
Discarding their fears as they waited. They followed their leader to glorious deaths now fated.
The Company moved forward, forsaking temptation to run. Determined they stood against the odds, one hundred to one.
One hundred men stood tall and strong against the horde, failure they could not afford.
Seven days The Company stood against the waves. Brave warriors fighting, over their brother’s graves.
Six days of fighting left six to stand Unbroken. These six they stood, against the horde, its bloodlust awoken.
One by one these six did fall, leaving one man, his last words unspoken. ártair Bairde, fought on alone, the last man Unbroken.
On the line, our homeland in chains, put to the sword. The Company held strong, a wall against the horde.
Discarding their fears as they waited. They followed their leader to glorious deaths now fated.
The Company moved forward, forsaking the temptation to run. Determined they stood against odds, one hundred to one.
The morning of the seventh day left one last man standing strong against the horde. One last man standing fast and bold, proud to be his kingdom’s ward.
He stood upon the hill, cast in rays of warmth and light. His face steeled with resolve as he stood over his brothers and sisters, knowing he had one last fight.
Though his life he would give for his homeland, knowing he would see it no more. His roar of war shook his enemies to their cores.
He fell by blades broken against his armor, the horde reduced, small and soft-spoken. His brothers rose with Kolob over the hills, to avenge them all, The Company Unbroken.”
Klintock and Flint both had tears in their eyes.
“Ah, one of my favorite sheets of music that.” Cairen said, also with tears in his eyes. Then he looked at Klintock and Flint. “Aw young sirs, deepest apologies. This dull old pan never meant to evoke any sadness.” Cairen said, giving a small apologetic tap to his forehead. Klintock took a deep breath.
“It’s fine. Our father was a hero. We hear songs about him often, not often sung by such a beautiful voice.” He looked at Leola. She gave an apologetic smile. “But it does remind us that while we’re grateful to him for his sacrifice, we wish he was still with us, and we…” His voice broke and his eyes got wetter as his chin quivered for a moment. “We miss him.”
Lánn sniffled and rushed over to them, holding her arms out to hug them. They both accepted the hug with a smile and a slight chuckle as Lánn began weeping. Klintock patted Lánn on the head as she sniffled again. “There there, Lánn. It’s alright.” Klintock said, smiling. She chuckled and separated from them.
“Well then.” Keokin started. “Looks like I came at the right time.” He was carrying a large platter full of snacks for us. We all ate them gratefully, joking with each other before retiring below deck to our room, staying up a few hours playing cards. Eventually William entered the room, guided by Lanaea. He barely glanced in our direction before moving straight to his bedding, covering himself with his blanket. The room went quiet, some of us shared confused looks, but we finished our game quietly and went to sleep, hoping to be ready for a new week of training.