" Still under contract?" No. He offered me my release when we made port. He wasn't sure what he was going to do and didn't want the expense of a warrior." Not exactly the whole truth but Dent didn't see any reason for strangers to know the full story. Vel would have kept him on but he didn't see the point of mentioning that."I'll bet there's a good story there. Sometime I'd like to hear it over a mug of beer." Again Dent just shrugged."I wondered what was happening to my sword," muttered Dent's sparring partner. "It seemed to get stuck for some reason, I couldn't use it like I usually do." Hmm," Brent pursed his lips. "Lad, what is your name anyway? Dent? Good. Dent would you mind going full speed against Marc here? Oh yeah and show him the disarming move. He needs to see that." Well, all right," Dent said uncomfortably. "But I don't want to actually break anything here. These aren't my weapons." Fuck 'em," Brent laughed. "If they break the Armsmaster will put 'um back together. Don't. With her senses alert, she continues on her journey. The youngster she bears carefully in her mouth sleeps soundly, oblivious to the perils they face. She scrambles stealthily over rocks and twigs making her way towards her burrow. Her body is telling her it’s time to feed her family. She is reminded of the rest of her offspring waiting at their destination unprotected. This knowledge increases her desperation and she picks up speed, running agilely towards home. Her quickened pace doesn’t dull her senses however, and she dodges beneath a fallen log just in time to avert the razor sharp talons of the owl. She huddles, trembling in her refuge. The baby she carries becomes aware of his hunger pangs and squirms in her mouth. Aware of his hunger, the young mother timidly pokes her little brown head out from their hiding place. She perks up her ears and scans the moonlit sky. The ruffle of feathers has gone and the sky is clear of danger for the moment. She crawls out from beneath the log.
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