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able to now.”
“We’ll see about that,” her grandmother
hissed, and charged.
Manon was ready.
An upward swing of Wind-Cleaver met her
grandmother’s first two blows, and Manon
ducked the third. Turning right into the
onslaught of the Yellowlegs Matron, who
swept up with unnatural speed, feet almost
flying over the snow, and slashed for Manon’s
exposed back.
Manon deflected the crone’s assault,
sending the witch darting back. Just as
Cresseida launched herself at Manon.
Cresseida was not a trained fighter. Not as
the Blackbeak and Yellowlegs Matrons were.
Too many years spent reading entrails and
scanning the stars for the answers to the
Three-Faced Goddess’s riddles.
A duck to the left had Manon easily