Preparation (Jon King)
She gently smoothed the fletching on the final arrow with the tips of her fingers, caressing the feathers into place. The shaft slid into the fur-lined quiver without a whisper, settling next to its sisters. When worn across her back, the quiver was contoured to allow a single nock to be grasped and placed on the string for rapid fire.
Tomorrow, with the Gods’ favor, she would need but this one.
She thought again of the Master’s words.
“While he lives, our way dies.”
She wept quietly at the thought of her husband’s death. But she would honor the Way.