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My endless training from when I was a young lad came to the fore. I’d received training from the greatest fighters in the empire. I learned to fight with blades, shields, guns, and my bare hands. I’d also been taught psychology and when was the best time to attack.
“As soon as possible,” my teacher always said. “They’re still trying to figure out if you’re a threat. You already know you are one. And you’re far more dangerous than they will ever be. Use your skills against them and attack first.”
My hands flew up and knocked the rifle aside. I twisted it out of the Titan’s grip. He maintained his hold and lost his balance. I spun the rifle around and aimed it back at him.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
The Titan was garbed in a flannel shirt and stained overalls. He must have been the farmer. Except… Changelings were capable of adopting the shape of others. He could just as easily be one of them.
I checked around us for others but we appeared to be alone.
“Show me your wrists!” I said.
The farmer held up his shaking hands. His sleeves slid down.
There were no folds of skin around his wrists. He wasn’t a Changeling.
He was defending his property from what he assumed were dangerous criminals.
Us.
Hazel placed her hand on my arm. I lowered the weapon.
“I take it you’re resistance fighters,” the farmer said, keeping his arms up.
“Yes,” I said. “You can put your arms down. We’re not going to hurt you.”
The farmer peered between me and Hazel before lowering them.
“Have you seen any Changeling soldiers around here?” I said.
“No, sir,” he said. “We’re friendly with the resistance. We’ve seen many fighters passing through this way.”
Many fighters.
Then there was a chance the resistance might still be alive…
“Come,” he said. “We have food and water. You must be tired.”
Food. Water. A bed.
I glanced at Hazel, who smiled expectantly.
“That would be great, thank you,” I said.
I handed the rifle back to the farmer.
He aimed it at the ground.
“You’re going to have to show me that move again,” he said. “In slow motion next time. Come. Follow me.”
I followed him into the house. He introduced us to his wife and two children. The young boy I had already seen, and his older sister. The children seemed shy and quickly ran upstairs.
“Sorry,” the farmer said. “They’ve learned to become wary of strangers.”
“Did you come from one of the tribes?” the farmer’s wife said.
She turned on the stove to heat some stew.
