Silver Winds

Chapter 7

“There is one fairly good reason for fighting - and that is, if the other man starts it.” -T. H. White

Volos found Astra behind the house, chopping firewood. The axe she wielded only had one edge, but she used it to her advantage. Whenever a piece of firewood was too thick for her to chop cleanly on the first slice, she kicked the dull end and split it. She hammered piece after piece, the halves and quarters of logs littered the ground around her. Her eyes were narrowed as she grabbed the next piece of wood and set it on the stump their family used for cutting their firewood, little glimmering gems of blue that set everything around her alight in contrast.

Sweat flew off the moving body every time she swung the axe, which was about every thirty seconds. The area around her was damp, and she seemed intensely concentrated on her task. Volos leaned up against the back of the house, waiting for her to make the next move.

Astra knew Volos was there, but was ignoring him.

She knew he knew one of her chores was firewood, and she knew he knew it was an important one that she hadn’t completed in nearly a week. So she swung her axe, again and again, her arms becoming more tired with every swing. It was hard work, a difficult chore that her father had given her to improve her strength.

Astra swung the axe one last time, then looked around to view all of the logs around her. She stuck the axe in the stump before gathering up a few of the logs and stacking them with the bark side down next to the side of the house. She then grabbed the next few, and continued until she had a nice stack laying on the ground. The roughness of the wood brushed against her callouses as she moved them around. Then she turned back to look at her brother, a hand on her hip. He shoved himself into a standing position, and crossed his arms.

“Don’t you think we should get back to the city? It’s been three days, we’re losing time and we need to find others to join our Munrskipan. I get it, you really like Kay, but as it is, three people don’t make a Munrskipan,” Volos started, his eyes narrowed like Astra was something too bright to look at properly. Astra moved toward him, then moved past him.

“I agree. Three people will not help us in our ultimate goal. Are you prepared to go now? I can be ready in five minutes,” Astra said, entering the house gingerly. She tip-toed through the living room, then entered her room. She pulled off her shirt and donned the appropriate garments. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Then she stuffed Volos’ boots and yanked them on, standing and looking at herself in the mirror. To her slight disappointment, she didn’t look feminine in the least.

Twenty minutes later, and out of breath from the run to Mistport, Astra slid past the familiar laundry woman’s house. She slithered through the Jarls, commoners, and slaves, her senses telling her to move straight ahead. She could tell in the way Volos followed her that he had no plan for the day. He probably hadn’t expected to get her into the city. Astra stopped in front of a red-haired slave, holding a large clay jug on her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she blurted, “but do you know of any boys who are participating this year in Mistport’s School?”

The pretty slave shifted her eyes over Astra, and a quizzical look took over her face.

“Shouldn’t ya know? Ya look like yer about that age yerself,” she remarked, shouldering her way past the pair. Astra grabbed her shoulder and forced her to stand still.

“We’re new to the area. Came only for the training,” she grunted. The slave was stronger than she had thought, and removed Astra’s hand from her shoulder.

“Look around for a family called the Stern’s. They’ve got a bunch o’ boys. Can’t miss ‘em, always getting into fights, they are.”

She disappeared into the crowd, her red hair disappearing into the sea of blond and brown. Astra smiled and looked at her brother.