While Yerin struck the construct with another ripple of sword-madra, Lindon stared at her. “We don’t need to fight him at all,” he said. “Get on the cloud and let’s go.” “The strong don’t run,” Yerin responded. Many miles away, a man with long blond hair choked on his wine. “Yes, we do!” he protested. “All the time!” The others around gave him strange looks, but he paid them no heed. He pulled out a notebook labeled ‘Lesson Plans,’ and at the top—in large characters—he wrote the words ‘Strategic Retreat.’ “That’s a fine place to start,” he said, and snapped the book shut.
