Challenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

balance,
and threw the dagger again.
    Again the blade sunk into its target, right
next to the wound left in the previous assault.
    The Wanderer shook his head. It was far too
early for this. At least the girl kept some distance from the pit.
With twigs and branches left from the day before, he started a
fire, tending to it and mixing his hash in turns. He worked to the
steady rhythm of his neighbor’s practice, setting the skillet and
small pot of water on the iron weave. Occasionally, he looked up to
watch her. The girl moved with animal grace, her motions
extravagant and sparse as she spun around with the blade flashing
through the air. Her arrest was always sudden when she stopped and
set the knife free. The dagger sunk into the trunk every time.
    The water heated and his hash was ready
before long. The Wanderer was slightly embarrassed to have used
almost all the wood. That was never good form amongst travelers,
especially since he was with hostile company. He considered calling
to the girl to use the fire before it went out, then thought better
of it. She was completely absorbed in her knife-throwing dance, and
her occupation was a reprieve from the discomfort between them.
    The Wanderer emptied the hash onto his plate
and poured hot water over the herbs in his mug. Sitting back, he
ate several forkfuls while his tea steeped. He closed his eyes as
he sipped, savoring the mild bitterness. He was grateful for the
drink made with medicinal herbs he had found during his forage the
day before.
    The Wanderer opened his eyes. The dagger was
the first thing he saw, whirling with the same furious speed as the
girl’s dance. Too stunned to move, the Wanderer stared at the knife
coming right at him, the air hissing as the blade cut a path over
his left shoulder, uncomfortably close to his ear. He sat frozen
until he heard the dull thump when the dagger stabbing the tree
behind him. This time, the girl had dropped to a crouch when she
released her weapon. She was watching him closely, her eyes
glittering. The Wanderer knew it was irrational to wish he could
stem the flow of blood draining from his face, because going pale
was physical proof that she’d frightened him. The girl’s mouth
curved in a sardonic, knowing grin. But the Wanderer forced himself
to take another sip of his tea before he spoke. Although the mild
bitterness now tasted unpleasant, he repressed the urge to grimace
as he swallowed. Meeting her eye, he kept his voice neutral, his
tone milder than boredom.
    “Your aim is not as impressive as I
thought,” he said. “You missed me.”
    The girl’s smirk opened to a broad smile,
and her thick teeth gleamed.
    “No, I didn’t.”
    She stood up and made her way to the tree.
She pulled the dagger free and continued her practice, aiming for
the tree right behind the Wanderer who refused to move. They stared
each other down while the girl threw the knife past the Wanderer
again and again. He forced himself to eat slowly, never letting his
attention stray from her. Yet his stomach clenched often. Every
time she threw the dagger, the girl’s eyes were fixed on the
Wanderer, and not on the tree behind him.
    The Wanderer hated himself for the
restlessness that surged through him. It was all he could do to
stop himself from grabbing the girl.
    Days became weeks, and there was no relief
from the rancor between them.
    The Wanderer foraged every day, always
gathering in the woods south of their camp. Once he tried to
venture north on his mare, but the girl appeared out of nowhere,
glaring at him with more ferocity than usual and turning her
massive steed to block him. He took the hint she’d claimed that
part of the woods and never went that way again. He didn’t mind too
much. The border patrol was to the north and he didn’t wish to
attract the law.
    The woods of No Man’s Land made a good
refuge for the Wanderer. When the forest wasn’t quiet, the trees
whispered from the motion of animals, the song of birds,