Swiftcurrent Creek Barb

The woman’s coldness was expected, but her answer was not.

Swordfish drew his ears to a point at the mention of self care. This was not the way of fighters, was it? She wanted him to stretch. The boy thought that she was making it easy on him, that her intensity had shifted to something more akin to pity. He did not like the feeling that it left in his belly.

Face bloodied, he stood and winced only a little at the pain in his broken rib and gashed side. There was fire in him, yes. He would not disrespect her by speaking out against her instruction, though. He needed this powerful beast of a woman to tell him more – to teach him. Swordfish needed to be certain that the bear would die. He could not return any other way.

The first stretch she demonstrated was a simple one. The boy watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. He was overconfident and in his mimicry of it, he hissed out a breath of air in pain. The broken rib was like a firecracker in his side. Swordfish didn’t want Moss to see him acting like that, though. He clenched his teeth and stretched his toes out until he felt his back ease into something looser.

A sigh fell from the seafarer’s lips.

Gettin’ too overzealous fer me own good. It might have been how he’d talk to Suzu, if she were there.

Swordfish’s expression flattened. Suzu was dead. Mom and dad and Ray had to run away. The rest of them were dead.