POV: Kael
The branch snapped under my foot with a crack that echoed through the dark forest.
I froze, holding my breath. Every shadow suddenly looked like a soldier. Every rustling leaf sounded like footsteps.
"Nice job being stealthy," Leo muttered in my head. "Why don't you just scream 'I'M OVER HERE' while you're at it?"
"I'm TRYING!" I hissed back, exhausted and frustrated. "Not all of us spent a hundred years studying perfect movement!"
"I studied sword fighting, not walking. Though apparently you need lessons in both."
I'd been traveling since we left the burning village behind hours ago. My stomach growled with hunger. My feet ached. And worst of all, night was falling fast, turning the forest into a maze of darkness.
"We need to stop," I said, spotting a small clearing ahead. "I can't walk anymore."
"Finally! My scabbard has been banging against your leg for an hour. Very uncomfortable."
"YOU'RE uncomfortable? I'M the one doing all the walking!"
"And complaining. Don't forget the complaining."
I wanted to argue, but I was too tired. Instead, I stumbled into the clearing and collapsed against a tree. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest.
"Now what?" Leo asked. "Please tell me you know how to make a fire."
"Of course I know how to make a fire!" I snapped, even though I'd only done it twice before, and Sir Gareth had yelled at me both times for doing it wrong.
I gathered some dry sticks and leaves, pulled out the flint from my supply pouch—thank goodness I still had that—and tried to create a spark.
Nothing.
I tried again. And again.
"You're holding the flint at the wrong angle," Leo observed.
"I'm doing it fine!"
"Clearly not, since there's no fire."
"If you're so smart, YOU make the fire!"
"I'm a sword. No hands. Remember?"
I groaned and kept trying. After what felt like forever, a tiny spark finally caught. I carefully blew on it, adding small twigs until a real flame appeared.
"Finally," Leo sighed. "I was starting to worry we'd freeze to death. Well, YOU'D freeze. I'd just be a very cold sword."
"Do you EVER stop complaining?"
"Do you?"
I glared at the sword lying across my lap. How could a piece of metal be so annoying?
My stomach growled again, louder this time. I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. The few berries I'd found earlier barely counted as a snack.
"Hungry?" Leo asked, his tone softer now.
"Starving."
"There's a stream about fifty yards that way." He somehow made me feel which direction he meant. "Maybe you could catch fish?"
"With what? My bare hands?"
"With me, obviously. I'm sharp. Stab the water when you see fish."
I almost laughed. "That's the worst fishing advice ever."
"Got any better ideas?"
I didn't. So twenty minutes later, I found myself standing by a stream in pitch darkness, holding a glowing sword over the water like an idiot.
"There!" Leo whispered. "Two o'clock!"
I stabbed where he indicated. Water splashed everywhere, soaking my already dirty clothes.
No fish.
"Too slow," Leo critiqued. "You have to be faster. Anticipate where they're going, not where they are."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely. It's been centuries since I've done anything this entertaining."
We tried for another ten minutes. I actually caught one fish—a tiny one that barely counted as a meal. But it was something.
Back at camp, I roasted the fish over the fire. It tasted like the best thing I'd ever eaten, probably because I was so hungry.
"Better?" Leo asked.
"Much." I licked my fingers clean. "Thank you. For helping, I mean."
"Don't get used to it. I'm not a hunting sword. I'm a legendary weapon meant for epic battles and—"
A howl cut through the night.
My blood turned to ice. That wasn't a dog. That was a wolf.
Another howl answered the first. Then another. They sounded close. Very close.
"Leo?" My voice shook. "Tell me wolves don't hunt humans."
"They don't usually. Unless they're really hungry. Or unless there's a wounded, easy target nearby."
"Which am I?!"
"Probably both?"
Eyes appeared in the darkness beyond my campfire. Yellow eyes that reflected the flames. One pair. Two pairs. Three.
Five wolves stepped into the firelight. They were huge, with matted fur and bared teeth. The largest one—the leader, probably—growled low in its throat.
I grabbed Leo's handle, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped him.
"Okay, new plan," Leo said, suddenly serious. "Don't run. They'll chase you. Don't scream. Stand up slowly. Make yourself look big."
I stood on trembling legs. "This isn't working! They're getting closer!"
The leader wolf crouched, ready to pounce.
"When I say 'swing,' you swing as hard as you can. Got it?"
"I can't hurt animals!"
"They're about to hurt YOU! Would you rather be dinner?!"
The wolf leaped.
"SWING!"
My arms moved. The sword cut through the air with a whooshing sound. I didn't hit the wolf—didn't want to—but the blade passed so close to its nose that it yelped and jumped backward.
"Again! Keep them back!"
Two more wolves attacked from different sides. Leo guided my hands, blocking one direction then spinning to face the other. We moved together like we'd been practicing for years instead of hours.
"You're doing it!" Leo shouted encouragingly. "Just like with the soldiers! Trust your instincts!"
But there were too many. While I focused on three wolves, the other two circled behind me.
"Behind you!"
I spun, but too late. A wolf's jaws snapped at my leg. I screamed, stumbling backward into the fire. Sparks exploded everywhere.
The wolves yelped and scattered from the sudden burst of light and heat.
"The fire!" Leo yelled. "Grab a burning branch! Wolves hate fire!"
I snatched a flaming stick with my free hand. Now I had a sword in one hand and fire in the other. I must have looked crazy.
The wolves circled warily now, but didn't attack. The leader growled, but backed away slowly.
"Wave the fire at them! Show them you're dangerous!"
I waved the burning branch wildly. "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
For a long moment, nothing happened. The wolves watched. I watched back, heart pounding so hard I thought it might explode.
Then, finally, the leader turned and trotted away into the darkness. The others followed.
I stood there for a full minute, frozen, before my legs gave out. I collapsed next to the fire, dropping both the branch and the sword.
"You did it," Leo said quietly. "You survived."
"I almost DIED!"
"But you didn't. Because you fought back. You were brave."
Tears ran down my face. "I wasn't brave. I was terrified."
"Being brave doesn't mean not being scared. It means fighting even when you ARE scared. My... someone told me that once. Long ago."
I wiped my eyes. "Who?"
Leo went quiet for a moment. "I don't remember. The memory is fuzzy. From before I became... this."
I picked up the sword again, holding it gently. "Do you remember anything about being human?"
"Pieces. Flashes. Sometimes I dream—if swords can dream—about hammering metal. Creating something. But it always fades when I try to focus on it."
"That sounds lonely."
"It was. But less lonely now."
I managed a small smile. "Yeah. Less lonely."
I fed more wood to the fire, determined to keep it burning all night. No way was I letting those wolves come back.
"Get some sleep," Leo suggested. "I'll keep watch."
"How? You don't have eyes."
"I can sense things through you, remember? If danger gets close, I'll feel it. I'll wake you up."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I lay down, using my supply pack as a pillow, keeping one hand on Leo's handle. Despite everything, my eyes grew heavy. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up with me.
Just before sleep claimed me, Leo spoke again. "Kael?"
"Mmm?"
"You're not worthless. I was wrong to say otherwise. You're stronger than you think."
Warmth spread through my chest. "Thanks, Leo."
"Don't let it go to your head. You still need about a thousand lessons in proper sword technique."
I fell asleep smiling.
Sometime deep in the night, Leo's voice jolted me awake.
"Kael. KAEL! Wake up RIGHT NOW!"
I shot upright, grabbing the sword. "Wolves again?"
"Worse."
Through the dying firelight, I saw them. Not wolves. Not animals.
Men. At least a dozen, surrounding the clearing. They wore dark clothes and carried weapons. Bandits.
And standing at the front, grinning cruelly, was a man with a nasty scar across his face.
"Well, well," he drawled. "What do we have here? A little girl all alone with a very valuable-looking sword?"