Young Writers Society

scasha:

WOW OH WOW! You are amazing! No lie. This was SUCH a big help, you just have no idea. I promise to start making changes as soon as I can.

I just can't get over how much you covered. It just blew my mind.

But thanks for doing it! It helped me a lot!

Hey Ashley! Sorry this review took so long! I've been out of the country for a while so I haven't had much access to a computer. I couldn't do line edits because this chapter is a bit long, however, I decided to give you my general overall review. I hope it helps!

In Answer to your questions:

1) As a whol, the story is quite intriguing. This chapter slipped into a bit of a slump around the part where Karson begins to talk about his family. it just felt a little info dumpish. You are able to keep the suspense up throughout the story which I like because it keeps the readers wanting to know more. However, I would like to know a little bit more information about everything that's going on. When Karson started talking about the assassins, I felt like I was in the dark a little. (That might be because I haven't read this story in a while, so forgive me if you already mentioned why he'd get in trouble for instructing Dara.) I would just try and clarify everything little by little instead of having large chunks of more and more mysteries and less answers (if that makes any sense).

2) The story doesn't feel forced at all. Dara doesn't seem to like Karson all that much so I was a bit shocked when she kissed him on the cheek in the end. She doesn't seem like she's a lovey dovey, I want to hug people, type of person. You presented her as distant and alone in the beginning chapters so I think you might not want to have such a gradual and unpredictable jump in her emotions. I also think you overemphasize Karson's love for Dara. You put a lot of examples of it in this chapter so I would try to cut parts of them out.

3) Definitley keep going! I'm shocked that you would want to even think about throwing it away! Goodness, Ashley, you're going to ruin my dreams of this being the next be Tamora Pierce ish story.

Alright. Here's the rest of the overall stuff.

The Goodness:

I like your humor. I love stories that make me laugh and I like the chemistry/combination between Dara and Karson. They compliment one another and make the story very entertaining. It's pretty funny at times, and I love humor so you got me sold on that part.

Your descriptions are loveley. You really bring us into your world which is very important without overdoing them.

I like Dara's character in general. She's flawed and spunky, kind of a don't be me down kind of person.

Originality!!!! I loved the characterization of the sage (ie the definition of the word fits perfectly with the being and her age that you described)! Brilliant!

Things I think that could use a little work

Greeted, questioned, remarked!: Okay, today the word "said" is beautiful. We use it so much in our writing that the word itself often becomes invisible. By substituting words like greeted in for the word said, readers notice the address more instead of reading over it and getting straight to the dialogue. The words that people substitute for said can be good such as asked, or replied, but words like greeted can often times make your wording sound a bit awkward.

Thinking: I noticed that in this chapter you went into Karson's head once. You said something like I'm her teacher, it's unethical to like her he thought (okay, I didn't get the wording exactly right but I think you can find the part where he says something about liking Dara in italics) Anyway, my point is that although it's fine to get into other characters heads you do say that he averts his eyes, trying to control himself or something right before you put in the thought. Since you tell us his physical reaction to her licking her lips, you don't have to tell us what you implied. It's pretty clear. So I recommend taking that out and any other things that are unneccessary to promote the readers understanding.

Snappy! : When Karson snaps towards the end I was a bit surprised. It was just too unexpected. Try to lead up to it more. It just felt a bit out of place and out of character

Hungry: This one may seem a bit stupid. You don't have to pay any attention to this idea but it's just a thought. I think this is the second chapter (out of four) that you have began or have spoken about her eating something that Karson cooked. It just felt a bit too repetitive. Instead maybe have her see a basket of strawberries on the table and then have her question him about it. It just felt a little too drawn out.

Information please: I was a bit confused when Karson was talking about his tribes and then when he was speaking about the assassins. I think you have put in way to many unsolved mysteries for the readers. I am having trouble remembering all of the little mysteries that Dara and the readers don't know about that Karson does. I would start to at least give us a bit more information on all of those things. Maybe forshadow a little, have Dara remember something about the tribes and their battles etc. I just felt a bit too confused and in the dark.

Adverbs: You're doing a lot better adverb wise. there were still a couple that made the wording of some of your sentences not be as strong as others so I would try and weed out the rest if I were you.

Overall, wonderful job! I really do want to know what is coming next, so I command you to keep writing this story! It really has potential to be very interesting once you cut out all the little unnecessary details!
--scasha

Hey Ashley! I'm so happy you put out this chapter! Anyway, here is my crit! Hope it helped.

ashleylee wrote:Okay, I know that it has been a long time since I posted a piece from this story, but I think I have reconsidered writing it, so hopefully you all enjoy it.

Please think of this questions as you read:

1) Is it entertaining?

2) Does it seem forced? The characters and the emotions they feel?

3) Should it be continued or thrown away?

Happy Reading!

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CHAPTER THREE

The following day, Dara woke [s]with a yawn and a stretch.[/s] to a syrupy scent [s]drifted across her nose and [/s]she gazed up at the backside of Karson as he cooked. “Get up now. We have a feast to eat,” Karson greeted Try not to substitute words for the word said. Said is nearly invisible so instead of greeted, say said , carrying over a plate of wheat pancakes. Dara gaped at him as she fumbled Fumbled doesn't feel right here to her feet and saw a bowl of hot syrup from the near-by trees. Along with the pancakes were fresh strawberries and milk. Dara struggled for words. “I-I…ah…well…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Karson hushed her, sitting at the table. Dara followed suit and placed herself across from him. “Pancake?”
“Two, please,” Dara found her voice, and Karson placed two pancakes on her plate.
“Syrup?”
“Yes, thank you.” Dara watched greedily as he drizzled hot, sweet syrup over the cakes. “Where did you find all this?” Dara asked as he helped himself to three pancakes.
“The strawberry patches are north from here, about a mile and a half. The maple trees are really close by, just south towards town. And the milk came from your gracious neighbor, Father Brian,” Karson replied before taking a huge bite from his pancakes.
“You went to town?” Dara stared at him in disbelief.
“Had to. I had to explain to the McCherrin’s that I was leaving them. They seemed right happy about it too. And I decided to visit Father Brian on the way to thank him for the food yesterday.”
“You told him you were staying with me?” Dara gasped.
“Oh yeah, I would tell the preacher that me and an unmarried woman are staying under the same roof.” Karson rolled his eyes at her. “How stupid do you think I am, Dara?”
“Sorry,” Dara mumbled, nibbling on her pancake.
“I just told him I was passing through. We talked. He brought you up a lot. Then, he offered me some milk to give to you on my way out and that was that. I didn’t even tell him we knew each other,” Karson finished, and Dara lowered her head, feeling stupid. “And now we have milk,” Karson added with a grin, taking another huge bit from his pancakes.
Dara took another bite of her own and glanced up at him. “Are their blueberries in this?”
Karson nodded. “They grow on the other side of your pond.”
Dara shook her head. “I’ve lived her for six years and in less then a day you have found all this.” She gestured to the table filled with fresh food.
“Hey, the drought almost killed them out. There are only a few patches left along the pond and near the stream a few miles from here. So don’t feel so bad. I just know how to live in the woods.”
“Clearly,” Dara remarked, eating her food with sudden enthusiasm. She hadn’t eaten so well since back when she used to live with her parents and brother. “Where did you learn to cook so well?”
“My mother,” Karson said with a fond look on his face.
“You miss her, no?”
“Very,” Karson sighed. “She was a Healer.” Dara’s eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into her hairline. Karson grinned at her expression. “Explains a lot, doesn’t it?”
“It clears up things,” Dara said slowly. So that’s why Karson is so skilled. Gifted with the insight of a healer, no wonder he was able to find all this food.
“Having a Healer mother does have its advantages,” Karson spoke up, and Dara’s cheeks brightened. His stomach twitched a bit at such an open expression of emotion. She was usually guarded and defensive but here she was, blushing at his comment.
“I forgot you read thoughts,” Dara excused her open thinking. “It’s hard to remember.”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t pry like that.”
“How do I guard myself from such nosy people like yourself?” she teased with a slight twinkle of her eyes.
“Well,” Karson said, sipping his glass of milk. “First, you have to gain power over you emotions and memories. You have to know your weaknesses and strengths. Once you have mastered this, you can keep you mind locked, like a chest with a lock that you only have the key too.”
“That’s all?” Dara answered sarcastically, and Karson grinned.
“It isn’t as hard as it sounds.”
“Really?” Dara wondered before asking. “Does it also depend on how strong the Gifted is?”
“Yes,” Karson said slowly, surprised on how quickly Dara caught on. “The easier you can guard your mind, the harder it is for the Gifted to break it.” Dara nodded, taking a bite out of a strawberry. The juices stained her lips a glossy pink and her tongue licked them off. Karson felt his stomach twinge again and he quickly averted his gaze. This is your pupil, Karson, not your fancy, he scolded himself silently.
“I was wondering, “ Dara began, picking another strawberry from the basket. “How was your life at home? I mean to ask, what did you do for fun and such?” Dara was desperate for some shred of proof that real exciting life existed beyond her cottage. It had been so long since she had spoken to another individual, let alone discuss life and family.
Karson could see her interest flare and decided to satisfy the flame. “I assume your remember how a childhood for a Native is.”
Dara looked down at her plate. “No,” she said softly, almost so softly that Karson could barely make it out.
Karson cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, my childhood was much the same as the other children except my father was Commander of our army and my mother was the main Healer. Oh, and that Ranashi was my great-great-great aunt or something.”
“You’re related to Ranashi?” A hint of admiration came into Dara’s eyes, and Karson basked in it.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Wow,” she whispered, gazing at him in a new light. “You must be very powerful, then.”
“Not really. I’m only Gifted. I’m not a Sage like Ranashi or a Healer like my mother. However, I do have a knack of knowing if another is a Sage or Healer. It’s like a sixth sense or something.”
“Interesting,” Dara remarked.
“What about you?” Karson wondered. “Don’t you have any special magic?”
“Nope. Valerians are prohibited to use any means to conquer our foe with magical influences. That was the one rule I remember from my home life. Any baby born with magical abilities was sent away before they could know of their blood heritage. Valerians are to protect the Native royal family with only the daggers at their sides and the shields at their bellies.”
“You seem to remember more than you think,” Karson noticed.
Dara shrugged. “Only certain things. I still don’t recall the Native lifestyle.”
“It isn’t anything special. I grew up as an only child. Ranashi taught me once she discovered my Gift. She was the teacher to all the Gifted children. I was one of the few. She just taught us the basics of being Gifted. Once we reached the age of twelve, Ranashi and the Healers were to choose their pupil. My mother, of course, sought out Ranashi to ask if the rules could be put aside so she could train me.”
“What rules?” Dara interrupted.
“It is said that no blood relative may train their own Gifted child. It must be some one unrelated.”
“I see.”
“Yes, so Ranashi, sticking to the rules, declined. It was later discovered that the reason wasn’t only because of the rules. Ranashi wanted to teach me herself. So, she took me “under her wing”, so to speak and I basically grew up with her.”
“But I thought you said she was related to you?” Dara immediately noticed the fault in his words.
Karson smiled at her brilliance. “Ranashi doesn’t always play by the rules when it comes to herself. I didn’t find out she was my great-great-great aunt until just a few years previous.”
Dara sighed. “That’s usually how the higher ranked officials work. They enforce the law but bend it to their own will.”
“Very true,” Karson agreed.
“So, you and Ranashi are probably very close, then?”
“Not as you would think. She treats me like a nephew of some-sort. She has her own daughter to baby.”
“Who is Ranashi’s daughter?”
“Sapphire. She is my age. Seventeen.”
“But Ranashi is so—“
“Old? Yes. She is nearing ninety but I guess ninety is young for a Sage, who will probably leave to near one hundred and forty. Maybe longer if she takes care of herself.”
“I didn’t know Sages lived that long?” Dara answered in awe.
Karson nodded. “But it depends on the lifestyle of the Sage. Ranashi has led a simpler life compared to the Royal Sage, who defends the castle every other day.”
“True, true,” Dara nodded, taking a bit out of her strawberry. “And what of your father?”
“He is still around, assisting Ranashi when she needs it. Mostly, he’s looking after the local harvest since we are excluded from the battle at the present time.”
“Excluded?” Dara raised an arched eyebrow.
“Excluded meaning the fighting hasn’t involved our tribe just yet. Only the ones closest to the palace.”
“So, it is true that the drought has stayed pretty much contained here in Sabrir and the Northern Peninsula?”
“We have nothing compared to what you are experiencing. Ours is slight. The land is less fertile then it used to be but otherwise, you are right.”
“Strange,” Dara mumbled.
“What is?” Karson questioned.
“Strange that it is concentrated here. You would think they would get a powerful Sage and blow the rain clouds our way.”
Karson leaned back from the table, unaffected by her words. “They have been too busy with the war to be concerned with a small town like Sabrir.”
“But it isn’t only Sabrir. I have heard talks of towns all the way out in Blair’s Bluff at the tip of the Northern Peninsula.”
“The Northern Peninsula is almost three hundred miles from Luxion. King Theo has more worries then over you and the other merchants.” Karson waved off her worry with the flick of his wrist.
“Maybe,” Dara said slowly, not giving the idea up just yet. Then, changing the subject, she asked. “So, I’m guessing the reason you are so skilled in battle is because of your father?”
“You guessed correct. I learned to handle daggers at the age of five and swords at the age of seven.”
“You were so young,” Dara commented.
“Not too young to train, as my father would say,” Karson replied with a wink, finishing off his glass of milk. “Speaking of training, we best be off. I want to get more exercises done today.” Dara nodded quickly swallowing her last bite of pancake.

* * *

One week later…
- On the banks of Dara’s pond –

Dara seemed to jump back into shape quicker then Karson expected. By the beginning of the second week, she was able to keep up with him throughout the whole mile run. “I’m getting better,” Dara commented after her seventh day running.
“You are,” Karson agreed, smiling.
“When do we start actually training?”
“We have started actual training,” Karson replied.
“You know what I mean.” Dara rolled her eyes.
“Yes,” Karson chuckled. “Soon. Maybe in another weeks’ time.” Dara grumbled, and Karson scolded. “Now, start your other exercises.” Dara narrowed her eyes at him but got down on the ground obediently. She pushed herself into a push-up position, arms extended, perpendicular with her shoulders. “And one…and two…and three…” Karson counted absently as Dara touched her nose to the ground and back up. She did these twenty-five times until Karson noticed her arms start to tremble. He made her do five more after that and then ordered her to stop. She collapsed onto her belly and rolled onto her back. She proceeded to cross her arms over her chest, hands on opposite shoulders. Then, she raised herself up, bending towards her knees, which were bent and pulled towards her chest. She relaxed, retreating back into the starting position. “And two…and three…and four…” Karson started counting again as he paced about, his eyes scanning the area.
There was a reason why he had left that morning a few days previous to gather the milk from Father Brian. He was securing the area, making it bandit, assassin, and trespasser-proof. He knew Dara wouldn’t approve of his deathly traps so he kept mute about the whole thing. “Can I stop?” Dara called out weakly as she shakily bent towards her knees for the thirtieth time.
“Oh, sorry, Dara,” Karson said and he watched her lay back in a heap.
“Is that all for today?” Dara asked through a heavy breath.
“No,” Karson replied. “I added another one today.”
“Oh, lucky me,” Dara answered sarcastically.
Karson smirked. “It’s not so bad.”
Dara rolled over on her side, propping her head up on her hand. “What is it?”
“Another drill to get your heat pumping. Now, stand up,” Karson ordered, and Dara struggled to her feet. “They are called Jumping Jacks.”
“Sounds exciting,” Dara mumbled, and Karson glared.
“Listen, Dara. They go like this.” And Karson spread his feet out, clapping his hands together above his head before swinging his arms down and snapping his ankles back together.
Dara looked at him as he counted. “Are you serious?”
“They may look funny but they work.”
“You’re crazy. Father taught me the basics, running and hurdles. Maybe a swimming lesson in-between. But all this…” Dara shook her head.
“Well, we don’t have hurdles or long-length swimming tanks or any of that, so deal with it,” Karson snapped, his patience running thin.
Dara bristled. Karson had never snapped at her before. “I never asked you to be my teacher,” Dara growled.
“Hey, I didn’t ask for it either so I guess we are in the same boat,” Karson sneered. “Now, get moving!” Dara grumbled but started her Jumping Jacks. She was a little off-balance at first but soon, she was doing them as swiftly as Karson had. “Twenty-seven…twenty-eight…twenty-nine…thirty! Stop, stop.” Karson waved his hands. Dara halted and bent over her knees, head down, chest heaving. “You did good today.” He patted her back but she shook him off. Their argument hadn’t been forgotten. Karson sighed. He opened his mouth to talk but Dara was already off, running down the trail for a second time that day. Karson knew better then to follow her so he just rolled into the grass and waited it out.

Dara followed the dirt path farther then they had ever gone. She had forgotten how it felt to feel her muscles all working in union, stretching and pulling with her heart pumping. Sweat dripped down her spin and over her cheeks but she pressed on. Birds chirped and animals squeaked in the surrounding trees while Dara picked up the speed, running into a gallop. Her legs pounded the earth, her boots melting into the shape of the sole of her foot each time she hit the earth. Her hair pulled free of it’s usual bun and fanned out behind her like a flagrant red flag. Her eyes brightened, their tawny color turning to gold in the sun, flecks of silver lining the pupils.
Just then, her world tilted and she stopped abruptly. Her eyelids fluttered and she knew she was slipping into another memory. She tried to fight it but it was no use. She slipped under reality’s surface and into the waters of the unknown.

Dara looked over towards her brother. He was still sound asleep. It had been three days since the burning of their beloved home and Dara was dead on her feet. Dark circles rimmed her ten-year-old body’s eyes and her hair was snarled and entangled with bits of twigs and leaves. Michael looked none the better with his own hair sticking on end. He shifted contentedly, snuggling closer to her. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. She knew she had to find a way to Prince Erik’s sanctuary and then on to the Northern Peninsula where they could safely wait out the war. The prince would give them safe passage, as he had been her father’s closest friend. But his house was miles from here. They needed disguises. They need to dye their hair. Dara cracked a smile and ran a shaky hand through her brothers flaming red hair and then through her own. They would stand out like sore thumbs. Valerians were the only family in all the realms that had the famous red locks. They had once been a blessing, but now they turned into their downfall.

Dara forced herself out of the memory before it ended on its own accord. She vowed never to relive these memories and the up-coming one was the worst of them all. She shook her head and looked around. Oddly, she was still standing. She held her head, feeling woozy but awake. That’s when she spotted it.
Hanging precariously above her, at first glance, it appeared like the leafy canopy above but that’s when she spotted the tangled brown vines and sharp rocks shaped into deathly daggers. They were tied to a net-like trap woven with leaves and vines to appear like something of the forest. And, to no surprise, a few feet away lay the trigger of this massive trap. A vine snaked its way across the path. To the less observant person, it wouldn’t seem out of place but Dara followed its trail all the way up to the daggers above. She snorted with fury and took off at a fast gallop back to the pond.

At the pond, Karson was lazing about on his back, his eyes closed and his feet stretched out in front of him. Lucky was sniffing the water with a curious expression when he barked, waking Karson from his nap. He looked up to see Dara enter the clearing, her face flushed from the run. Immediately, he detected her fury. Her eyes flashed, their tawny color burning into him with an igneous fire. “When did you plan to tell me you set up death traps?” She stood over him, blocking the light of the sun.
Karson let his eyes flutter close and he breathed deeply. “I knew you would be upset so I kept it to myself,” he answered slowly.
“But why? Why do we need death traps?” Dara demanded, her hands flailing in frustration.
“Bandits, assassins—“
“Wait a second,” Dara cut in. “Why would assassins be coming after me?”
Karson noted the flicker of fear behind her eyes and he stood. “I didn’t want to warn you encase my assumptions were false.”
“What assumptions?” Dara narrowed her eyes at him until they were fiery slits in her furrowed face.
“They day I departed, I had news that there were Lepoars in the area.”
“Professional assassins?” Dara interpreted.
“They prefer the name Lepoars, actually. More innocent sounding,” Karson informed her before continuing. “And Ranashi informed me in a dream that they had seen my departure. She feared they would follow me. That’s why it took forever for me to reach you. Now, I fear that they are in Sabrir, searching for me.”
“So, they do not know of me?” Dara sounded relieved, which made Karson’s own anger flare.
“No, but if they find me, they find you,” he growled through his teeth, infuriated over her selfishness.
“I hadn’t meant it like that,” Dara said quickly, pacing. “But I wanted to make sure they didn’t know of my plan to reenter the realms as a Valerian.”
“Just because you disowned the name six years ago doesn’t mean you are no longer that,” Karson warned her. “But I’m almost positive that they don’t know that you are still alive.”
Dara nodded, chewing her lip anxiously. “Why do you think they are in Sabrir?”
“When I made my rounds, there was a new group of Ariy’s.”
“Performers?” Dara wrinkled her nose in confusion. “You mean like actors?”
Karson nodded. “Yes. They were making rent at the local inn when I conversed with Father Brian.”
“Did they see you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Karson assured her, but Dara still looked worried. “We can’t fret over it until we know they are for sure Lepoars.”
“But you had suspicions?”
“More like a gut feeling.” Karson rolled his shoulders in an off-hand way.
“And more often then none, those are the feelings that end up being accurate.” Dara shook her head and looked to the heavens. “It’s obvious we will have to keep the death traps. Even though I seriously disapprove of them.” She glared at Karson. “But we have no choice. Did you secure them all around the perimeter?”
“Yes. Even on the main road.”
“When did you do all this?” Dara wondered.
“The morning last week when I made pancakes.” Karson beamed idiotically. Dara shook her head and turned towards the pool. With a quick shake of her shoulders, she dived in, much to the shock of Karson. He watched the ripples she made on the surface and sighed. “Here we go,” he mumbled before joining her.

* * *

Three weeks later…
- Outside of Dara’s Cottage –

One, Two, Three, Breathe. Dara counted silently to herself as she punched the air with closed fists. One, Two, Three, Kick. She threw her leg into the air, pointing her bare foot. She repeated the process over and over again until beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Her tunic formed to her body like a second skin and her wool leggings itched horribly. But she continued, throwing in a quick spin move close to the earth and then, snapping back up to throw a few punches, knocking her invisible opponent senseless.
Karson watched from the shadows of the forest. Dara thought he was off collecting what was left of the blueberry patches but, in truth, he used this as an excuse to watch her without her knowing. It was clear when they added the training to the normal exercises that she was a Valerian. A born warrior, the blue blood of her ancestors flowed through her veins, giving her the upper hand in any battle.
She was a natural.
He smiled as she flew into the air: leg outstretched and arms high above her head in the imitation of a stork. Her movements were fluid, as though she was underwater. He marveled at her strength and agility but saw the faults in her movements. Her kicks were too high, her punches too low. But her speed made up for those things as she threw her opponent to the ground in one fluid swing. The fitting leggings enhanced her muscled legs and her arms flexed as she threw punch after punch. He watched as the sun danced in her hair and tickled her eyes. Her skin glistened with perspiration and her tunic formed to her tone body, leaving nothing to imagination.
At this, he looked away as she lowered herself to the ground, using the same move she had used on him when they had first met, knocking the legs out from under her invisible attacker. He shook his head, making the image of her slick skin shake and then vanish completely from his mind. Any man with eyes could see the beauty in her but Karson was her trainer. Her teacher and mentor. He had to be firm and wise and leave his male instincts behind. With one quick peek to make sure she was keeping with her exercises, Karson retreated to gather the blueberries he was assigned to get.

* * *

Dara rested with her back against her cottage, shadowed under the eaves. Lucky lounged beside her, his eyes drooping in the heat. “It’s okay, boy.” She stroked his neck before taking a sip from her gourd, the water gushing over the side of the cap and down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe it away but let it trickle down her neck and into her tunic. The water cooled her flushed skin and she poured more on her face. Cupping her hand, she rubbed some on the back of her neck as well. Her hair was falling free of its bun so she pulled it loose, letting her wavy red tendrils flow over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. Lucky whimpered, nudging her hand. Dara sighed knowingly and poured some water into her cupped palm so Lucky could lap up the water. His tongue was hot against her fingers, tickling her flesh and she smiled. It was a soft, thin crack in the murky mood that usually clouded her face and Karson was lucky enough to glimpse this brief break as he left the confines of the forest, his basket filled with blueberries. Dara looked up then, her smile already fading from view. She waved at him and then, filled her palm again to let Lucky drink. “Done with your lessons already?”
“Surprised?” Dara questioned with an arched eyebrow.
“No, just disappointed.” Karson faked disapproval.
“Why?” Dara asked with wide, tawny-colored eyes.
“I thought you would start to train beyond what I have taught you.” But Dara detected the mischievous glint in Karson’s eyes and knew that he was teasing.
“Oh yes, you wish me to push until I am on the ground, dying,” Dara interpreted with a wink.
“If that’s what it’ll take,” Karson shrugged and beamed, as Dara glared but with a twinkle of merriment in her own eyes.

* * *

The days that followed, Karson and Dara interacted through hand-to-hand combat. Every minute of the day was a lesson for Dara. They would be a breakfast and suddenly, Karson would wield a dagger across her throat and she had to react accordingly. Or at the pond and Karson would be walking beside her and with a shift of his foot, she was sprawling on the ground or tumbling into the pond.
One of those instances occurred and Dara excited the pond, dripping wet. Karson was watching her with a smirk and his fists on his hips. “How many times have I done that to you and you still fall for it?” Karson wondered with raised eyebrows.
“Only about a dozen times,” Dara grumbled, shaking out her hair like a dog. She had no idea what effect that was playing on Karson as he watched her wet, golden-red hair ripple around her face and her body twist with her tunic fitting to her every curve. He looked to the heavens and prayed for guidance and removal of his male desires so to get him through the training in one piece. For he knew that if he made any advances with Dara, she would skew him like a pig preparing to be barbecued. He glanced back at her and watched as she squeezed her hair dry of any water and then, straightened. “Why do you continue to do it when you know I’m never prepared for it?”
“You must be prepared. Attackers obviously won’t push you into a pond and run but they will try to make you fall while looking innocent to get an easy target. You mustn’t fall for such means of attack. You have to be smarter. Detect their moves before they perform them. Read into their thoughts before they plan.”
“No, you are the only one who can “read into their thoughts”, Karson,” Dara grumbled.
Karson groaned. “You know what I mean.” Dara didn’t bother to answer and just walked over to her cottage and leaned against the side, panting in frustration. Lucky played in the cocktails, rustling the stocks as he chased frogs, his wagging tail the only thing visible in the tall weeds. Crickets moaned in the heat and birds chirped half-heartedly as the sun beat into the earth with agonizing force. Dara sighed deeply, already feeling the sun melt the droplets of water off of her skin. “Karson, when will this drought end?” she wondered out loud.
Karson leaned on the house beside her. “Don’t ask me. Ask the gods.” He raised his hands, palm up, to the heavens.
Dara fell to her knees in mock submission and cocked her head back, crying out. “Oh, high lords! Mighty immortals and beloved gods, answer my prayers. Send rain to the Northern Peninsula and bless us with your kindness.”
Karson smirked. “They don’t give in to sarcasm, Dara, sorry to say.”
Dara turned her neck to glare at him before stumbling to her feet. “Well, they don’t answer to pleas so I decided to try a different approach.”
Karson chuckled. “The rains will come in due time.”
“I hope so. If they don’t come in the next week or so, we’ll have to go into town for supplies again—” He heard the despair in Dara’s voice and cut in.
“Let me go.”
“You can’t,” Dara explained. “They all think you have traveled on. If you go into town, suspicions will be aroused. Besides, if these Ariy’s are the assassins, they will recognize you but not me.”
“Oh yes, this hair will keep you well hidden.” He snatched a tendril and rubbed the silky strand between his fingers. They locked eyes and Dara frightened when she saw the depths of Karson’s flashing, brown-green eyes. She pulled away from his touch, and Karson released her hair, feeling his heart pound beneath his tunic, cursing himself silently. “So, I will go. I’ll wear a wrap on my head. No one will suspect a thing.”
“What about those who already live there?” Karson challenged.
“Nothing I do will surprise them,” Dara assured him. “And the Ariy’s will know no different.” And with that, she swayed into the cottage, wringing out her tunic on the way.

* * *

The following week, Dara prepared for her trudge into town. She wore a modest dress, the color of snow. Her boots were cracked and worn from all her exercises but she washed and polished them the best she could. Then, tying her hair on top of her head, she wrapped a veil she had woven the week previous with the cloth of her ripped dress. It covered her hair and draped around her face like a hood, starting at her hairline and ending around her shoulders so she could hold it in place with her hands as if she wore a shawl. She marveled, with Karson outside, at how her dress fell loose around her now-trim waist. Those exercises paid off, Dara commented with a little twitch of her lips as she gazed into her mirror, spinning her hips to emphasize her tiny waist and now visible curves.
Karson entered abruptly, and she quickly backed away from the mirror as he presented her with the basket and a bag for wool. Karson needed new trousers and his tunic was ripped. Dara’s only tunic and leggings were becoming hole-y and worn with the stitching becoming frayed. “Just get simple, cheap colors,” Karson advised her, and Dara nodded, reaching up into the crease between cupboard and ceiling. In her hand, she held a box and inside was a mound of modest savings from when she worked for Father Brian in his garden years ago. This was the last of her savings and she dropped the coins into the pouch at her waistband. Then, she slipped her dagger beneath her skirt for easy access if anybody decided to bother her. Karson nodded wisely as she did this and noticed the melancholy in her eyes as she dared use the last of all the money she had to her name. He chewed his lip, debating.
“Here,” he said gruffly, shoving his own amount of money into her hand. They were large gold coins worth twice as much as her own petty silver ones. “Buy yourself pretty cloth for a new dress and better food. I am growing old of ham stew,” Karson smiled kindly, but Dara quickly handed the coins back.
“I couldn’t.” She shook her head, backing away.
“You can and you will,” Karson ordered and before she knew it, he had reached into her pouch and stole her silver coins, replacing them with his own gold ones. Dara gaped at him, and he grinned, replacing her money into her box. “Go,” Karson commanded, but Dara hesitated. He inclined to the door. But before she left, she swiftly caught Karson in a tight hug and a brief kiss on the cheek before she escaped the cottage for her small barn. Karson touched his cheek, as if in shock, as if he disbelieved that her lips had actually brushed his skin. And then he grinned—a wide, happy smile—as he watched her ride away down the road, Lucky barking at her absence.