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A thrill rushed through Thea and she drew an arrow from the quiver, nocking it to the bow. As she breathed in, she pulled the string back, allowing her chest to expand with the movement, feeling the muscles in her arm and shoulders burn —
‘You’re going to miss.’ That voice vibrated in her bones.
Ignoring him, she loosed the arrow.
And cursed him, as the shot went wide.
A deep laugh burst from the warrior, and she looked at him in disbelief.
‘Well, you didn’t expect to become a master hunter in one day, did you?’ he said.
Thea swore colourfully, and he laughed again.
Her frustration dissipating, Thea savoured the sound.
He took the bow and quiver from her. ‘I’d best take it from here, or we’ll go hungry.’
Before long, the warrior had two more hares and they were on their way back to their camp, Dax leaping about their ankles, overjoyed at the prospect of dinner.
Thea made quick work of the fire as the Warsword skinned the game with brutal efficiency.
‘Will they teach us all this as shieldbearers?’ she asked, feeding the flames more kindling. ‘How to survive on the road, I mean?’
‘Perhaps,’ he allowed.
‘You paint a vivid picture,’ Thea said drily.
The corner of Hawthorne’s mouth twitched. ‘Truth be told, I don’t know. It has been a long while since I was stationed at Thezmarr. Many things have changed during my absence.’
‘Did they teach you those things back then?’
‘Back then? Just how old do you think I am?’
Thea laughed. ‘You’re the one that said it had been a long time! How old are you then?’
‘Old enough.’
‘Cryptic, as usual, thanks.’
‘You’re welcome, Alchemist. As for the ranger skills… My mentor taught me. I went everywhere he went and most of our time together was spent travelling between the kingdoms. There was much to learn.’
Hawthorne set the game on sticks and balanced them over the fire to roast. Then, he sat back on his heels and looked at her, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face.
Dax padded out of the darkness and curled up at Thea’s feet, drawing a bewildered look from Hawthorne.
‘What?’ she asked.
The Warsword nodded to the hound. ‘He’s not normally known for his friendly nature.’
‘Not surprised,’ Thea retorted. ‘There are a lot of pricks in the fortress.’
Hawthorne coughed out half his drink. ‘Is that so?’
‘You clearly don’t spend enough time at home,’ she remarked, Seb’s smug face flashing before her.
‘Home…’ He seemed to mull the word over. ‘Is that what Thezmarr is to you?’
‘What else would it be?’
