“The next time that we meet, one of us is going to die,” Onearle can feel of the truth of the whispered words from his leader, and then Massimo steps away to rejoin what used to be Onearle’s family. It’s not himself that Onearle blames for how things are right now, it’s all the fault of the tiny woman who had twisted Massimo around, until he didn’t know himself anymore. She had been the catalyst for things changing, and it seemed as though even removing her physically from the situation, hadn’t helped matters all that much.
Not one of the people that he considered to be family turn to look at him, as they exit the room. He feels the anger swirl to the surface once again, the fingers of his clenching tightly around the hilt of his broadsword.
Copyright Emily Morris 2017