Chapter 32: Convincing the Guardian for a quest.
Adrian sat on the stump, a small pile of sturdy, straight branches beside him that he'd collected from the woodpile. In his hand, he held his harvesting sickle.
Grey sat on the frozen ground a few feet away, watching him with intense fascination. Her head was cocked as he took the first branch and began using the sharp edge of the sickle to whittle one end to a sharp, nasty point. The sound of the blade scraping against the wood was rhythmic, almost peaceful in the quiet morning.
She watched the slow, deliberate movements of his hands, the way the wood shavings curled and fell to the ground. She didn't understand the purpose, but she was captivated by the process.
Adrian worked in silence, his focus absolute. One by one, he transformed the branches into crude but effective wooden stakes.
They weren't masterpieces, but they were sharp. Sharp enough to do some damage if driven with enough force.
