I would have heard her. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. Everything. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. He parried without apparent effort. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. Sudden indignation boiled up in him.
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