them into bricks. The two guards that survived yesterday's complete fuckup were far more alert this morning, and as we approached the riverside we saw that things were finally proceeding properly.
One of the girls that was there yesterday walked past us, smiling encouragingly at The Twin, as she pushed a wheelbarrow full of clay over to where Fat Dealer and Apocalypse Girl toiled. She looked up from her work to see me, and waved. I waved back, and she went back to it. We continued our patrol.
As we arrived back at the barn, Archer was leading another pair of reasonably good bowmen out on a backup patrol, in the reverse direction to ours. Seemed like a good idea.
noon
After a quick lunch, archery practice. The Twin spent most of her time trying to put into words exactly how she manages to focus on her targets, but it was lost on the two of us. Junior was still much better off with his club, but I was improving fairly quickly. All twenty of my arrows found the target at least, one or two might have been considered decent shots, had The Twin not been watching.
“We need more than just round targets.” She was saying at one point. “Maybe someone can find a few shop mannequins or something like that. Something vaguely human shaped, at least, so we can all practice head shots.” She was right about that one. My two decent shots were both far enough apart that a head could easily fit between them. Or two. “Even human shaped wooden mock-up targets.”
“Good job those things are slow, though,” Junior said in response. “Means someone who sucks as badly as I do still has half a chance if one gets close enough...”
“Unless they're quiet about it, then you're fucked.” Archer interjected, scaring the shit out of all three of us, as he had stalked up silently behind us as we trained. “Anyway, you're right about the targets. I was already thinking about some mock-ups, maybe even rig something up that moves. Gotta give you a challenge, don't we?” He winked at The Twin, and left in the direction of his shed, greying ponytail swinging in his wake.
evening
Back inside the barn, just as the sun began to set, Apocalypse Girl was telling us that they had already made a few hundred bricks and we could begin construction on the new wall in the morning, provided we could keep up the same rate of collection we could be done in just a few days. Fat Dealer was almost silent during her report, but said that we needed any spare wood from the fence that is replaced for the animals. As it was they had been tied up on the far side of the cemetery from the river, but already the bull had broken free twice and two cows had fled.
Junior checked on The Kid, and reported that he was looking and feeling fine, at least physically. Emotionally he was a totally wreck. Hardly surprising, all things considered. His leg was not exactly healing as it should, but neither was the infection spreading. Even so it seemed that somehow he could infect others with his saliva. This was disturbing, but other than that he seemed perfectly normal. Fat Dealer told me that he had seen enough death recently, and though he had loved Kindly Lady, he knew it wasn't The Kid's fault she had died. So, it was decided that he would be released, and even put back on guard duty. He looked grateful that he was not going to be punished for their deaths, and swore that he would do his best to protect everyone in his care from now on. Fat Dealer nodded, then handed him a massive machete that he had picked up on his latest scouting effort. I was suddenly struck with the parallel images of Fat Dealer and The Kid, overlaid with a mental image of King Arthur knighting young Sir Percivale. This vow The Kid would keep.
That image made me think of another very important aspect of medieval knights. I pulled
One of the girls that was there yesterday walked past us, smiling encouragingly at The Twin, as she pushed a wheelbarrow full of clay over to where Fat Dealer and Apocalypse Girl toiled. She looked up from her work to see me, and waved. I waved back, and she went back to it. We continued our patrol.
As we arrived back at the barn, Archer was leading another pair of reasonably good bowmen out on a backup patrol, in the reverse direction to ours. Seemed like a good idea.
noon
After a quick lunch, archery practice. The Twin spent most of her time trying to put into words exactly how she manages to focus on her targets, but it was lost on the two of us. Junior was still much better off with his club, but I was improving fairly quickly. All twenty of my arrows found the target at least, one or two might have been considered decent shots, had The Twin not been watching.
“We need more than just round targets.” She was saying at one point. “Maybe someone can find a few shop mannequins or something like that. Something vaguely human shaped, at least, so we can all practice head shots.” She was right about that one. My two decent shots were both far enough apart that a head could easily fit between them. Or two. “Even human shaped wooden mock-up targets.”
“Good job those things are slow, though,” Junior said in response. “Means someone who sucks as badly as I do still has half a chance if one gets close enough...”
“Unless they're quiet about it, then you're fucked.” Archer interjected, scaring the shit out of all three of us, as he had stalked up silently behind us as we trained. “Anyway, you're right about the targets. I was already thinking about some mock-ups, maybe even rig something up that moves. Gotta give you a challenge, don't we?” He winked at The Twin, and left in the direction of his shed, greying ponytail swinging in his wake.
evening
Back inside the barn, just as the sun began to set, Apocalypse Girl was telling us that they had already made a few hundred bricks and we could begin construction on the new wall in the morning, provided we could keep up the same rate of collection we could be done in just a few days. Fat Dealer was almost silent during her report, but said that we needed any spare wood from the fence that is replaced for the animals. As it was they had been tied up on the far side of the cemetery from the river, but already the bull had broken free twice and two cows had fled.
Junior checked on The Kid, and reported that he was looking and feeling fine, at least physically. Emotionally he was a totally wreck. Hardly surprising, all things considered. His leg was not exactly healing as it should, but neither was the infection spreading. Even so it seemed that somehow he could infect others with his saliva. This was disturbing, but other than that he seemed perfectly normal. Fat Dealer told me that he had seen enough death recently, and though he had loved Kindly Lady, he knew it wasn't The Kid's fault she had died. So, it was decided that he would be released, and even put back on guard duty. He looked grateful that he was not going to be punished for their deaths, and swore that he would do his best to protect everyone in his care from now on. Fat Dealer nodded, then handed him a massive machete that he had picked up on his latest scouting effort. I was suddenly struck with the parallel images of Fat Dealer and The Kid, overlaid with a mental image of King Arthur knighting young Sir Percivale. This vow The Kid would keep.
That image made me think of another very important aspect of medieval knights. I pulled
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