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Vol.7, Ch.5, P.3

Like a lion prowling, a strange Raakel began strutting nigh. Yes, “strange”: for, brutality being more her manner, this warrior ought be dispensing with speech, and pelting to pound me into “mince and paste”, as she’d put it. But nay; step-by-step she approached, with patience to perturb.

Thus could my blade but abide. I knew not what that ring of Raakel’s was, nor what wiles it could weave. And so long as that held, distance and discretion were the better part of valour. But then—

“Hold!” exclaimed Emilie.

Close she came, racing up from behind. And to my surprise, she then thrust herself afore me, and defiantly faced her deathsome friend.

“…Ah,” uttered Raakel in wonder. “Savin’ yer ol’ flame, is it? From me?”

Emilie shook her head. “Nay, this is to save