Manon kept her feet under her. Saw where one Matron moved and the other left a dangerous gap exposed. She was not a broken-spirited Wing Leader unsure of her place in the world. She was not ashamed of the truth before her. She was not afraid. Manon’s grandmother led the attack, her maneuvers the deadliest. It was from her that the first slice of pain appeared. A rip of iron nails through Manon’s shoulder. But Manon swung her sword, again and again, iron on steel ringing out across the icy peaks. No, she was not afraid at all.
