Through The Ashes

38

The midday sun was high. Jorn stood near her tent, absentmindedly gazing off into the distance. Her mind still sorting through the events of the past few days.

Her thoughts wandered, the lingering tension about the Rot and her feelings for Mara refusing to let go. Just as she was about to retreat further into herself, a sharp tug on her arm startled her.

"Jorn! Come on!"

She looked to find Becca, a wooden sword in her hand. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her black thick curls pinned back.

"Come on where?" Jorn asked, brow furrowing, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

"To the tournament!" Becca exclaimed, tugging her again, her grip strong. "You gotta fight me. We're having a sword-fighting competition, and we need more fighters."

Jorn hesitated, unsure how to respond. She wasn't used to being pulled into games or activities, especially by the younger kids. She was always the quiet observer, the hunter, someone people relied on but rarely sought out.

Jorn stood there, caught off guard by Becca's relentless enthusiasm. She was used to being the stoic, the one who stayed in the background, not the one drawn into camp activities—especially not a "sword-fighting tournament" with a bunch of kids. But Becca wasn't letting up.

She sighed, glancing around, and noticed Mara nearby, leaning against one of the camp's rusted-out vehicles, watching the scene unfold with a smirk. That smirk made Jorn's stomach flip—and made her wonder if Mara was the one who put Becca up to this.

"Fine," Jorn muttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious under Mara's gaze. "But don't blame me if I win."

Becca laughed, walking ahead to where a group of kids were waiting in a makeshift ring of scattered debris and wood. They were all armed with wooden swords, their faces flushed with excitement as they practiced their best "battle stances."

Jorn awkwardly followed, towering over the kids like some kind of reluctant giant. A few of them looked up at her, eyes wide with admiration. One of the boys, probably no older than ten, leaned over to Becca and whispered loudly enough for Jorn to hear, "She's gonna be so good. She's a real fighter."

Jorn stifled a grin.

Becca handed Jorn a wooden sword, the handle worn smooth from use, and took a dramatic step back, waving her own sword with exaggerated confidence. "Alright, Jorn! You're gonna face me first. Best out of three, okay?"

Mara did mention Becca was great with kids.

Jorn held the sword awkwardly, shifting it from one hand to the other. A pang of nostalgia hit her unexpectedly, and for a moment, she could almost hear Malcolm's laughter, see his grin as they play-fought in the park near home.

"Come on, Jorn!" Becca called out, bouncing on her toes. "You're not scared of a little ole' me, are you?"

Jorn snapped out of her thoughts, narrowing her eyes playfully at Becca. "Scared? Of you? Not a chance."

The other kids giggled, excited to see one of the camp's fiercest warriors—someone who usually kept her distance—getting roped into their world of games.

With a sudden burst of mock seriousness, Becca swung her wooden sword toward Jorn. Jorn barely had time to react, bringing her own sword up to block the hit. The wood clacked loudly as the swords met, and Becca laughed, clearly enjoying herself. Jorn couldn't help but smile.

"Not bad," she said, taking a step back and adjusting her grip. "But I'm just getting warmed up."

Becca grinned, taking another swing, and this time, Jorn moved with a little more confidence. The awkwardness began to slip away as she parried Becca's blows, making exaggerated movements to match the playful energy.