The Mad Wolf's Daughter by Diane Magras

Author:Diane Magras
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

21

BIRRENSGATE

The bandit was sitting on the lip of the well. His face was narrow with a scrap of a beard, and he wore a stained tunic and hose ripped at the knee. He slipped off the well and brandished a broad wooden staff as Drest stepped into the square.

Not a staff, Drest saw as she drew closer, just a stick he must have found in the woods.

It was a large stick, though. She would need to take care.

“There you are, girl.”

That slippery voice made Drest shiver, as if it were night in the woods again. But Borawyn’s weight reminded her to be brave.

Careful, Gobin’s voice said in her mind. He’s stronger than you. You’ll need to be clever.

She raised her sword.

The bandit gave a short laugh and returned to his seat on the well. He rested the staff against the stone bricks and began to lower the bucket. “You’re smaller than your brothers. Can you really hold that sword upright?”

Drest’s ears burned. “Aye. I can swing it too.” She gave a short, smooth practice sweep in the air. The sun gleamed on Borawyn’s blade.

“It moves like mush in your hands.” But the bandit wasn’t smiling. “You don’t need to threaten me, girl.”

Drest took a breath. She remembered Emerick’s advice. Could she use words instead of Borawyn? “I think I must threaten you. You’ve been bothering me.”

“Bothering you? Do you call it that? I only saw you in the woods and thought we could talk.” The bandit peered into the well at the bucket he was drawing up. “You could have ended this long ago if you’d have come out when I first asked.” He stole a swift, predatory glance.

Frighten him, said Nutkin. He sees just a lass. Show him what you really are.

Get ready, said Gobin, just as I taught you.

Drest grabbed Borawyn with both hands to keep the sword steady. “You say you want to talk, but that’s not what my brothers taught me to do when I meet bandits.”

A snarl flashed in the bandit’s face. “What do they tell you to do? Wobble your sword? Put that down. It’s too big for you.”

Show him one of our moves, said Gobin.

“You don’t know how to hold a sword, do you.” Drest’s voice came out sharp. “I’ll give you a lesson. You want it to wobble because then it strikes quick.”

She darted in and swung Borawyn in a clean, complete arc—a sunrise, her favorite move—that would have slashed through anyone unlucky enough to have been standing near.

The bandit’s fingers slipped on the bucket, which dropped into the well with a splash.

“It doesn’t wobble in attacking,” Drest said, bringing the sword to a halt in the air.

The bandit paled, then reddened nearly as quickly. “You put that away. We’re having a talk. We’ll have a drink. There’s no reason to bring a sword into it.”

Borawyn’s weight bore down on Drest’s arms, but she didn’t lower it. “There’s always a reason to bring a sword into a talk. That’s what my da says.

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