Free Finn Finnegan by Darby Karchut

the way out of the parking lot to the trailhead. Their feet crunched on the gravel path as they walked in single file down a gentle slope. The river at the bottom gleamed with a silvery sheen.
    Reaching the sandy bank, they stopped and gazed first upstream, then down. Thick willows lined both sides of the shallow river, scarcely more than a creek, while boulders squatted here and there, their shadows inky pools from the light of the full moon. As the Knights stepped away to confer in private, Finn turned to the other boy.
    â€œSo, how long have you been Mac Roth’s apprentice?”
    â€œAbout four months,” Asher replied curtly. He pulled out his knife and flipped it into the air. The bronze winked in the moonlight. He caught it by the handle with ease.
    â€œLucky you! I’ve been with Gideon for only—”
    â€œLook,” Asher interrupted him, keeping his voice low. “I’m here to learn how to hunt. Not make friends with a halfer.”
    â€œW-what did you call me?”
    â€œHalfer. Mac Roth told me about you. About your mother.” Asher examined the edge of his blade, then stared at Finn with cold eyes. “So, make sure you stay out of my way. Got it? I don’t want to miss my chance at earning my tore just because a wannabe De Danaan screws up the hunt.”
    For a moment, Finn’s mouth hung open. His cheeks burned with humiliation. Then anger. Before he could move or say a word, Gideon gave a sharp whistle.
    â€œFront and center, boyos,” he called. Asher sneered at Finn standing frozen, then turned and hurried toward the Knights. “Move yer arse, Finn,” Gideon barked.
    Seething with anger, Finn walked stiff-legged over to the rest. His pulse humming in his ears, he nodded without listening to Gideon’s instructions. What an ass , he thought. Asher the Ass . His lips twitched at a sudden thought. No. Wait. It’s Ass-her. He jumped when Gideon snapped at him.
    â€œI said, do ye understand me?”
    Finn blinked and looked up at him. “Y-yes, sir.” Before Gideon could question him further, he followed Asher over to a massive boulder, the top of it higher than his head, and took a stance in the protection of the rock. He stood as far away from the other boy as he could.
    â€œAsher O’Neill,” called Mac Roth as he pulled a knife and a hatchet from his belt, “Move from that spot and ye’ll feel the back of me hand.” Without another word, he plunged into the undergrowth.
    â€œAnd the same to ye, Finn,” Gideon added, his favorite knife already in his hand. He turned and followed in Mac Roth’s wake. The vegetation slapped back behind them. A further rustle, then silence.
    For few minutes, Finn stood staring at the spot where the Knights had disappeared; he pointedly ignored the other apprentice. The river rippled and splashed as the night air cooled the heat in his face. Just great , he grumbled to himself. How am I supposed to learn to hunt just standing around? Especially with this jerk .
    He pulled out his knife and slouched against the rock. Using the point of the weapon, he idly picked at the lichen covering the rock like a case of bad acne. He flicked a piece away. Into Asher’s face.
    Totally unintentional, of course.
    â€œHey! Knock it off!”
    â€œMake me.” Finn threw a larger piece at him. “ Ass-her. ”
    Asher narrowed his eyes. Glancing around, he spied a weathered branch the same length as his knife. He picked it up. “Halfer,” he spat back, and pitched the stick with a sideways, boomerang-y throw
    Finn twisted to one side. He watched as the stick sailed past him and fell with a splash into the river. He glanced back in time to see Asher snatch up a fist-sized rock.
    Shifting the knife to his left hand, Finn hastily scooped his own rock out of the sand. He held it at shoulder-height, his arm cocked back. They stood a few yards apart, eyes locked on each other