At the sight of the sword on my back, he smiled more broadly than I’d dared to expect. ‘You’re an alf now?’ ‘So I’ve been told,’ I said as I loosened the sheath buckle and carefully settled the weapon on the bundle of discarded banners in the corner. Pulling my hands off it felt oddly similar to putting a newborn child in its cradle and having to trust it would continue to breathe on its own – an unexpected itch of protectiveness.
