The Second (The Immortal Prophecies: Book I)

XXXIII. Guenevere

If in addition to being physically inferior to most of people of my new life included the perks of being stuck with one of them like chips and peas to any meal, then falling from the birch a fourth time this season would be a preferred option. Even with the stinging of my hand to remind me later in the bathroom. It began to twitch in protest whilst I listened to Lincoln's banter. "--came here, and I didn't even know about this place. You came out of nowhere. Who does that? Are you even shook up, are you okay?" Granted, I allowed him simply for the fact that we hadn't any idea we were in close proximity. And for the still risen spirits of me being in the town, watching the quiet bustle move in an autumn pace.

"For all things holy--" I bit down on my tongue when my hand blew itself into the splinters stuck, my hand rubbing before having common sense. With the cracks in the porcelain, I picked out the pieces of wood and left patches of red behind. "What?" Lincoln spotted me and saw what I was doing by this point.

"I don't know. Well, actually, I have to ask where you went."

"Work." It wasn't the exact mood to be speaking to one another.

"Are doors a little too overused for you then?" Ah, yes, the supposed joke Bonnie used when she learned of my habit, too.

"The tree does gives excitement. I prefer climbing, regardless of the common mistake or two." There had been the first time I made my attempt, when I snuck back after disappearing once the first term of school ended, and was adhered to a branch for hours before collapsing on the roof. And had fallen a few branches too high when trying again. So this stagger was quite nothing. It made for the most champion of concealments.

"How long have you been going Spider-Man? It looks like you've been at it for a while since you caught yourself so well."

"It has been years, but it doesn't matter, it is simply a scar. Have had those climbing then, and I will now."

"You're fine, though--right?"

"Dashing-ly. But for your sake, I'd say this be your last visit until...the clouds from your head clear." Plus, I'd be able to mount in and out in peace.

"Yeah. I-I'll see you tomorrow in the gym."

"Lincoln," I called out swiftly. "Wait, I have to inquire--the prophecies, what--" The seriousness in his face had returned.

"Tomorrow sounds good if it does for you." My head dipped to confirm I was in agreement.

At last.

***

"Don't let this bloke hover over you. Blast his size, you have the advantage of being under his chin, lass! Hit his--" My opponent, of course, grinned as Dana offered her serving advice, knowing what I was thinking as I clocked the area around his breast bone, and lungs. This was far better progress than when I began. For once, it felt such that I would win this fight.

"That's right, Lincoln, keep your protection, attack when it's necessary."

"Watch your body's angle," warned Lincoln. My hand deflected his move, letting me wide to slice a fist against his shoulder. "There you go," he grunted.

Some skin peeled off my knuckles as I continued, arising an itch and becoming a minor detail in my attacks. I circled around, hoping to not reveal my beginning fatigue, calming the battered hand that wanted relief in stopping. But though my feigning was rather good, the knowing shimmer in Lincoln's observant eye told me otherwise. To keep him occupied with another feature of me, I began to change my plan and used my legs to counter what he tried against me.

It seemed Lincoln hadn't minded feeling comfortable in our spar either, which for me was brilliant, as this was the final fight that would declare him winner, but at least leave me a small victory. We danced in the battle, swaying our arms to contrast the other's, moving the the beat of our feet pounding on the floor. I kept with the waltz, even if I couldn't dance well, flaunting this resilience to the peacock on the other side. At one moment, we locked the both of us in a good position with our arms in a tangle, fierce glances detaching us.