Dragon Clan #3: Fleet's Story by Clary LeRoy

Author:Clary, LeRoy [Clary, LeRoy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As hoped, Fleet found a small stream flowing at the bottom of the canyon. Less than a canyon, it was a split in the flat ground that he managed to climb to the bottom in a short time. The sun hadn’t set, and he gathered a large pile of dry wood, most of it less than the diameter of his thumb and it would burn quickly. The entire pile came to his waist, but he doubted it would last the night.

It would get cold. He kept gathering sticks and whatever else he found, lost in his solitude and loneliness. If nothing else, Camilla could have offered suggestions on how to contact the family and he should have asked her.

Bending to gather a handful of sticks, a shadow moved. He jerked his head up and found three men standing where his pile of branches, backpack, and staff lay. In an instant, he realized they were trouble.

One stood slightly apart, cleaning his fingernails with a rust-free knife that was all too impressive in contrast to the filthy rags he wore. The other two were dressed no better. All wore smiles, but the smiles didn’t reach their eyes.

Fleet felt his heart beating faster. He drew a deep breath and forced a false smile of his own. “Good evening. I’m called Fleet.”

The one cleaning his nails said, “I suppose that means you’re going to be ‘fleet’ and run away leaving us with all your belongings.”

The other two laughed like idiots.

Fleet glanced at his pack containing his food, and his water jugs beside. His blanket was rolled, and the idea flashed through his mind that he didn’t have time for worthless dregs like those facing him. He was on an important mission. His anger began to grow, but he held it in check.

“I’m not going anywhere without my belongings.” His voice had not cracked, and to Fleet’s ears, he sounded calm and not afraid. Afraid. No, he was not afraid, he found. He was angry. Angry at allowing himself to be cornered by the likes of the three in front of him. He needed to prevent them from stealing his things to accomplish his mission.

Other than the single knife, he saw no weapons. Without looking down, the bed of the stream held round rocks as large as his fist. They were weapons if used right. The item that kept his attention was that if he could reach his staff, he would defeat the three men easily.

“I wouldn’t try it,” one warned, a second knife that had been held behind his leg appeared as he watched Fleet’s eyes.

The third held up a larger, but rusty knife. His smile was almost sad. “We’ve been watching you all day.”

“I haven’t been here all day,” Fleet said, just for the sake of correcting him while he decided what to do. He could run as one suggested. Then he could follow them and try to get his belongings back. But that would take days, perhaps before he recovered what would be left of his supplies.

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