but no such luck.
Hemming let out a loud "Ha!" when the female quipped that he might not survive this encounter. She was imaginative and clever, and Hemming appreciated that in a friend. He felt lucky to have wandered to where she was, and lucky that she was receptive to his offhand comment about the loyalty of her steed. It was likely rare to encounter someone that would react in such a way by mere chance.
Without moving his eyes from her figure, he clutched a stick and lifted it up. "My humble thanks, Lady Asha. And what a sword! I must get the name of your blacksmith." It was a much sturdier weapon, and it felt firm and unforgiving in his hand. In being so much stronger, however, this stick was heavier and harder to move around. He held it up and shuffled sideways a little, away from the rocks. The male did not want to stub his toe or inflict any sort of injury on himself by way of being clumsy. A king could certainly not have a swollen big toe, whether it was caused in vicious battle or not.
Ready now, he bounced on his bent knees again, meeting her gaze for a split second. "Now, shall you suffer beneath your own sword?" He lifted an eyebrow and readied his stick for whatever attack she might launch on him now. |