Mina plaited the length of her tawny hair and tied the bundle. She admired her work in the dull mirror a moment, approving of the tiered braids that securely held her fringe and front sections of hair. Her practice came to make the task quick work, her hands deft and admirable though the skill was only to be appreciated in darning. She took up her stalky boots and tapped twice on the usual stone with the back of her gauntlet. Lithely she moved to the hallway so well-practiced that Traven seemed startled by her presence as he left his room. The falcon Horace was perched on Traven’s shoulder, his blinder and other trappings keeping him at ease. 

Wordless shadows crept on the path memorized along the floorboards. Curtain moved, boots pulled, outer door most carefully opened. Adjusted eyes searched the sleeping village for signs of stirring, but all fires were reduced to wafting smoke that silvered against moonlight, dancing up to greet the stars. They walked to the outhouse side of the stables to retrieve their cache of supplies from between the slats of the larger building—a payload easily missed at a glance. Following the side of the structure, they continued on into the grass and up to the river, making their way toward the treeline along the water’s edge.

The sparkling waters guided them through the dense wood, moonlight peering down on the treeless riverbanks. Pace quickened when they reached rockier terrain. Boots dug into the sandy patches between boulders on their descent into the valley. Trees became less dense and the moon peeked through their branches.

Before the war, Ginleux was built in the small, defensible basin by the river. Brothers-in-arms remained together and wanted to raise their families away from the sprawling cities. The village was later moved nearby to allow for growth. Mina wished they had stayed closer to Audin instead of moving toward Alys; the woods were much more lovely and alive than the grasslands, though the rocky soil would prove impossible to till. Her eyes pierced the trees in search of the ruins of old Ginleux, knowing it would be a while before reaching the site, but always hoping she would discover something new. There were stories about ghosts in the wood and horrors on the mountain, so something had to have started them. Hopefully it wasn’t just bored children spinning tales.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Traven interjected. “What’s on your mind?”

“If I felt it worth telling, I’d have already told you,” Mina spat, still looking around. Traven dug around in the satchel at his side, Horace noticeably bothered by the sudden jerk of his shoulder. He turned and tossed what he grabbed at Mina. She caught it and looked back at him in time to see him turn away. “I didn’t say I was hungry.”

“You obviously need something for that mouth.”

She broke off a bit of the roll’s crusty top and threw it at him, hitting Traven in the back of the head. He kept walking, unfazed. Mina glowered at him while taking small bites out of the roll, occasionally checking the shadows for anything of interest. Surely he can’t expect me to be cheerful. We’re almost there. She swore as her boot caught the phlange of a buried boulder, jamming her big toe against the leather upper. At least he withheld comment on that.

The trio came to a clearing. Grassy patches speckled by the fallen ruins of old fireplaces marked the placement of removed dwellings. Low brush crept around some of them. Hand-placed trees grew twisted and misshapen from neglect. The site was ideal for quail hunting and isolated enough for Horace to pursue nocturnal game.

Traven dropped his satchel and arms on the first broken hearth they came to. The noise stirred the protests of birds in the woods around them, causing Horace’s wings to open with interest. Traven removed Horace’s blinder and held his arm out, urging the tiercel onto his heavy-braced forearm. He raised his arm above his head and Horace began to flap his wings, taking off as Traven raised his arm slightly higher. Traven picked up some smallish rocks while Horace circled overhead.

Mina began unpacking their supplies as Traven threw rocks into the brush around some of the old foundations. One of the bushes fluttered to life and several quail sprang from it, startled by the rock that woke them. Horace was on them almost instantly, plucking one from the ground and taking off with it. Traven whistled and Horace returned to him, landing nearby with the bird in his talons. The falcon began to pick at the quail. Traven whistled once more and Horace returned to his beckoning hand. Traven took up the quail and placed it in his leather satchel, then sent Horace off again to pursue the others that had fled.

Mina began stretching while watching the two cultivate their prey. She paid special attention to her left shoulder, still heavy and burdensome after last month’s injury. Of course it will hinder me. Of course it won’t mend quickly, knowing I can’t wait for it to recover. These nights are too important to waste.

She took up the shorter of the two metal blades. Though Traven could wield it one-handed, it was her hand-and-a-half and suitable for Mina’s size. Traven worked into two-handed swords long ago and had to have a special training steel forged; most other boys took their leave to begin service not long after mastering a blade like Mina’s.

Traven would have the smith in town add additional weight to each blade every so often, insisting they were too light for his sparring. The last increase took a toll on Mina. She was relying on the strain of the day to keep her stamina up, remembering the gravity and anxiety that pressed her into the soil beneath the tall grass. A refreshing lightness overtook her when she arose after the inspectors left; she recalled that sensation and filled her veins with it.

The blade steadied in her hands. The point raised, blade aligned with her shoulders. Her left hand came to bear no burden, only remaining present to guide her blows, and its fingers began to slip away from the hilt. Main hand remained steady while she studied the moonlight that painted the blade. Her hand relaxed its grip. The moon’s reflection did not dance. For a moment, the blade felt weightless in her right hand.

“I’m ready,” Traven called. Mina’s sword clattered to the ground from the shock of his sudden call. Horace was too preoccupied with feeding on his final catch to be bothered by the clamor. 

Mina gripped the fallen sword and took it up again, brushing the soil off it with her left sleeve. “I’m just about ready myself.”

Traven walked over and picked up his own training blade. He moved away from Mina and began slicing the night air. He started whipping the steel around in an hourglass figure, making an endless swinging cut that he wouldn’t dare attempt with a honed blade.

Sensing Traven was either bored or overconfident, Mina tightly guided the sword at her side as she rushed him, slashing at him with an underhanded arc that he nonchalantly deflected. She came at him again with a horizontal slice, metal clashing against metal. She continued to push with full force against the friction of the blades, sidestepping away when Traven slid his sword toward the hilt of her own.

She tried to steady her breathing. Traven nodded at her. Mina changed her stance so that her sword was up and ready, briefly closed her eyes, then tipped her head.

He charged with an overhand swing of the blade, landing a glancing blow on her sword. She countered with a similar swing, and the two clashed while their footing shifted around. Traven’s weight made Mina take several steps back. A hard hit caused her to lose balance and fall near a bristly bush. A frightened squirrel ran out and stared at her a moment. Mina muttered some words under her breath and used her sword to help herself to her feet, sending the auburn creature shooting into the treeline. She rolled out her left shoulder, a dull throbbing growing inside it. Damn.

“Still bothering you?” Traven asked.

“So’s the shoulder.” Mina ran to strike Traven with the tip of her blade aimed for his heart. He laughed and knocked her blade away from its target. She struck again, unfazed, her hits pushing Traven back and forcing him to defend. He locked their blades once more, pushing against her.

Mina fought her frustration and flinching shoulder. Her focus shifted from the swords to the face on the other side of them. His brow is hardly even tense. His eyes are teasing me. This is no challenge for him.

She thought back to the moonlight glowing on the end of her blade. Her grip lost its tension. His sword moved toward his clenched jaw.

Traven sidestepped and hit her sword at an angle. She sidestepped herself and countered the blow, hitting him hard near the hilt of his blade and throwing off his balance. She struck again and kicked the side of his leg to knock him down. Traven raised the blade to defend himself from her next attack, but his unsteady crouch left him prone. She saw her opportunity and swung horizontally, right for his head.

He leaned to the side he was falling toward and drove the sword into the ground for balance, drawing the dagger from the back of his belt with his free hand. He held up the blade to protect himself, but her sword stopped short of its target. He thought I was going to hit him.

Mina kicked him in the middle of his chest and sent him to the ground. He laid there on his back and grinned.

She walked over and offered a hand to help him up. He accepted and brushed the moss and dirt from his jerkin before sheathing the dagger. Traven shook his head, still grinning. “You’re getting better.”

“I try to watch the older boys when I can,” Mina explained. “Watching you only teaches me to defend against your usual attacks. Besides, you tend to fight too cleanly.”

“So you’re only good if you fight dirty?”

“There is no place for polite combat in war.”

Traven laughed and picked up the training blade, “Sounds like you’ve been studying my father as well.” Mina scoffed at him. She turned and began to put distance between them to resume her practice. Traven caught up to her and grabbed her good shoulder. “Hey.” Mina turned to Traven. “Just promise you won’t ever fight too dirty.”

Mina looked into his eyes. They were no longer derisive. She studied them a moment and slightly smiled, raising the corners of her mouth just enough to soften her eyes. She patted his opposite shoulder with her left hand. “Of course.”

Traven smiled warmly and dropped his arm. Mina turned and started to walk away again. “Hey, I think you should sit it out from here. That arm needs to heal.”

“You would prefer to fight the trees?” Mina chuckled.

Traven sneered, “Only if they’re your trees.”

“I can throw rocks at you with my good arm,” Mina offered.

“Yes. Smacking rocks around sounds like fun. I’d rather have the trees to contend with.”

“If you want me to sit out, then sit I must. Completely.” She brushed off a large hearthstone among the ruins of a toppled fireplace and sat down, smiling as coyly as possible. “Satisfied?”

“Quite,” Traven spat. “I thought you wanted to train tonight.”

“We have.”

Traven glared at her. “You know what I mean.”

The sound of hooves cut through the night air.

“A rider? Mina, hide by that bush.” Traven pointed near where she sat.

Mina turned to look toward the treeline. “Are you certain?”

“No games. Just hide.” He ran for the pile of their equipment and threw down the training sword, drawing his proper blade from its scabbard. The two-hand sword sang as its metal cleared the wood-and-hide scabbard. “It’s here.”

A great shadow emerged among the trees, stomping into the moonlight. A nine-point buck sprang into the clearing and looked around the area, his ears up and focused. He locked eyes with Traven almost immediately.

“A buck. I thought it sounded too small to be a scout.” Mina began to clean the dirt out from under her fingernails.

Traven thought a moment. “I thought father said the deer were gone.”

“Maybe this is the one who scared off the lot of them.” She gestured toward the buck. “He is quite the formidable beast.”

The buck gazed through Traven, unblinking. Traven lowered his sword and the buck flicked his ear. “He is indeed.”

“Perhaps we should head back early,” Mina suggested. “I don’t think I can handle any other scares today.” She stood up to gather her things. The buck stomped the ground with one of its hooves in response, startled. It ears focused forward, then he sprang to the side like he saw a ghost.

“What’s gotten into him?” Traven raised his sword again. “Maybe he sees something we don’t.”

“Traven,” Mina urged, “we should leave.”

“Gather everything while I check the woods over there,” Traven gestured toward where the buck had been staring. “See after Horace as well.” He turned and walked quickly toward the treeline.

Mina carried their gear to the tiercel and gave him a bit of meat from the game bag to put him at ease for her handling. She tied his blinder in place and heard hooves take off behind her.

She turned in time to see the buck ram Traven.

She screamed.

Traven swung his sword and sliced into the neck of the buck, causing the animal to flee into the trees. He fell to his knees and hugged his abdomen. Mina ran over to survey the damage. Blood colored his leathers.

“How bad is it?” Traven gasped.

“I don’t know. This needs to go.” Mina pulled at the straps and ties of Traven’s armor and jerkin, lifting the layers over his head. Two punctures shined black in the moonlight, weeping blood. “I-it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t look fine. What the hell happened?”

Mina tore the sleeves from his undershirt. “We just need to stop the bleeding. Try to relax.” She balled up the linen sleeves and placed them over the wounds, pressing hard with all of her core strength.

“I’m not going to die out here…right?”

“No, you won’t.” Mina’s stern words won a look of doubt from Traven. “You won’t.”

Traven looked away from her, skin pale and clammy from the shock and loss of blood, and studied the sky. “The moon. It has a ring around it. Have you ever wondered what it’s like?”

“What what’s like? The moon?” Mina pressed harder, her hands slipping from the warm blood. “It’s just silver.”

“No,” Traven closed his eyes and tears ran out the sides of them. “What happens when we die?”

“You won’t be finding out tonight, Traven. Stop it.” The blood kept pooling around her fingers. What if I’m wrong?

“Don’t leave me here,” Traven whispered.

“I won’t. Not for anything.”

Traven murmured something indiscernible and faded out of consciousness.