Free Of Bone and Thunder by Chris Evans Page A

did a whole lot more thinking for ourselves.”
    â€œSweet trees a’mighty, Vooford!” Listowk said, his voice rising despite his attempt to remain calm. “I didn’t get much book learning as a child, but even I mastered the concept that thinking don’t necessarily also mean talking at the same time. It’s entirely fine if you do the first without all the latter.”
    Those bright enough to catch his joke chuckled. It wasn’t many.
    â€œSomeone’s gotta stand up for what’s right,” Voof said, his voice less strident than before. His crossbow, however, remained in a firing position.
    Listowk saw his opening. Vooford had let off his steam and now justneeded a way to back down without losing face. “And it’s commendable that you take that responsibility on, it truly is. You—”
    â€œVooford!” Sinte bellowed, stepping through the trees and into the middle of their camp. “Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up! We’re surrounded by slyts up here!”
    Voof snarled and spun on his heel to face Sinte. An audible gasp went up from the soldiers. The chirping, clicking, screeching insect chorus that greeted every nightfall quieted.
    This close to calming the fool down! Listowk tensed his thumb, ready to flip the iron safety latch up. It was all on Sinte now.
    â€œLC Listowk,” Sinte said, deliberately angling his body so that he faced Listowk but kept Vooford in sight out of the corner of his eye. “Why the hell are these men idle and gossiping like a gaggle of washerwomen? I don’t smell wax. I thought I made it clear that bowstrings were to be waxed daily.”
    â€œAh, Shield Leader, welcome back,” Listowk said, nodding. He made it sound like a long-lost brother had just returned. “Really great to see you. I was just about to tell the men to do that very thing.” In fact, Listowk had told the shield to do it, but soldiers being boys, they’d focused on other matters like lighting up their pipes and lolling around. He understood and wasn’t about to get his lads in trouble with the SL.
    Sinte turned to fully face Listowk, exposing his back to Voof. It was a strong statement but also a risky one. “Good, because when I do a weapons check tomorrow morning, I’d better not find a single slack string or the entire shield will be held accountable.”
    Listowk looked around the encampment, careful not to linger on Voof. Soldiers were hurriedly unhooking the strings from their crossbows. The whipcord they used was strong, especially this new type they’d been issued that had strands of animal sinew woven in, but it still needed waxing to keep from fraying and drying out, or even rotting.
    â€œLet’s remember to use our upstairs attic,” Listowk said, tapping his helm with the knuckles of his left hand. “Right edge, keep your string on and wax your spare. Left edge, do the opposite. It wouldn’t do to have the entire shield stringless at the same time.”
    Listowk kept an eye on Voof. With only Sinte’s back to rail against andseemingly forgotten, Voof grumbled something obscene. Sinte chose to ignore it. Listowk flipped his safety latch off. The bowstring hummed as the main trigger picked up the tension. The entire weapon felt tighter in his hand, like a coiled snake waiting to strike.
    â€œI’m going to get some food,” Voof muttered, stomping off to the other end of the clearing.
    â€œAny sign of Black Shield?” Listowk asked Sinte, thumbing the safety latch back down to engage the trigger bar. It took more effort to put it into place than it did to take it off. Stifling a yawn, he eased himself into a standing position.
    Sinte walked over until he stood about two feet in front of him. “He’s becoming a bigger problem.”
    Listowk shrugged. “I think of him as the spout on a boiling teapot. The shield needs to let off pressure now and then, and