Three Slices Read Online Free Page B

easy to dodge, too often hit on the handle instead of the blade, and are rarely accurate—I remember laughing at the circus throws Orlando Bloom’s character made in those pirate movies.
    At first, I’m partial to metal handles because I remember how effective the Black Axes of the Norse dwarfs were in Hel against the draugr , and their smaller, blocking axes were all metal, but to my mind, they don’t throw as well as the hawks with wooden handles. I have my unbreakable staff to block, anyway; what I need is an accurate throw.
    My targets are made from fallen branches and firewood since I can’t countenance using a living tree for target practice. Crafting them is a good exercise for me too: I keep the cellulose of the wood but unbind the current structure and rebind and reshape it into a sort of Druidic plywood, which I set up at the base of trees in a course through our woods. And then I go coursing with Orlaith, carrying a sack full of different hawks in my left hand and chucking them at targets on the run to test their feel and my aim. Orlaith is careful to run a couple steps behind me on my left side, never getting in the line of fire. I invite her to talk to me as we run, which tests her language skills and distracts me as well, a necessary component since battles are almost entirely composed of distractions. If you can’t focus on a target while being distracted, you will die.
    
    You did in your first sentence, indeed. You are such a smart hound.
    
    A very tiny one. You modify verbs with adverbs instead of adjectives, so it would have been better to say “correctly” instead of “right,” but your meaning was clear. You are improving quickly and I am proud of you.
    
    I smile because I had seen that question coming a long way off. Oberon constantly asks me too if Orlaith is ready to be bound yet. I know he pesters Atticus about it as well but he always deflects and says it’s my decision, which means that both hounds ask me when we will bind their minds together multiple times per day, sometimes only minutes apart because they are so bad at remembering how long it was since they last asked.
    Part of me recognizes that she is ready now. She can follow my conversation easily and her fluency is improving daily. But I don’t want her to feel intimidated by Oberon’s abilities. He’s a very old hound with many more years of practice at language, and since he’s male and smitten, he will try to impress her from the start, and I want Orlaith to be able to hold her own.
    I admit there is probably an element of selfishness to it; I enjoy having Orlaith all to myself. But she is so smart that soon I will have no excuse to keep them apart.
    When I think you are ready, we will bind your minds together, I tell her, as I have told her already numerous times. You can trust me on that.
    
    I mentally smile at her and then focus on my practice. Whether it is a function of their manufacture or a function of my throwing mechanics, I confirm that the wooden hawks fly better than the all-metal ones. One particular model with a twenty-two inch handle seems close to perfect but not quite there. I shave a half-inch off the bottom of the handle and try it, and it’s closer. After I shave another half-inch off the bottom, it’s perfect for me. I’m hitting targets consistently on the run at varying distances. Satisfied, I make a note to order more and spend some time practicing melee combo moves with my staff in my left hand. Gandalf made a sword-and-staff dual wield look badass in Return of the King , but working with a hawk is an entirely different proposition because there are no stabbing moves.
    It’s while I’m working through how to deal with an opponent holding a longsword that my mind returns to the indelible mark on