Aurie knew better than to complain. Not even to make a face or let out a breath. She only squinted at the sleep in her eyes as she looked up at the behemoth of Enya’s shadowy figure looming over her bed.

  The woman was a giant. A shadow with bare, muscular arms that tossed her blanket off of her to let the frost chill her through her thin cotton trousers and cotton shirt that matched the one Enya was wearing—sleeveless. If it wasn’t for the shirt of tight wool across her chest with a strap around her neck, she would be chilled to the bone and far more revealing for what came next than she would ever allow.

  “Come on, sleepy head,” Enya smiled, her dark eyes twinkling in the darkness. “The sun waits for no one.”

  We could always wait for the sun, Aurie thought as she rolled to put her bare feet over the side of the bed. Her breath was taken from her the moment her feet touched the icy wood floor.

  Enya grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her off the bed. She blinked at the sudden jolt of waking energy. Her body was begging her to leap back into the warmth of the bed.

  Instead, she aligned herself shoulder to shoulder with Enya. Together, as if their bodies were stiff as boards, they fell forward to land on their palms and lowered themselves until their noses nearly touched the boards. “Mine is not glory,” they said together, their voices as one. They pushed themselves up until their elbows locked, “but of God’s Will.”

  They went down, “Mine is not pride.” Up, “but discipline of the Holy Word.” Down. “Mine is not power.” Up. “But eternal fortitude of His Holy Spirit.” Down. “Mine is not sovereignty.” Up. “But vigilance of His Command.” Down. “Mine is not self.”

  “Halfway this time,” Enya said, not even out of breath.

  Aurie was still trying to catch hers. She raised herself until her elbows were only half-bent, shaking with ache. Together, they recited, “but servitude to Jehovah Thy God and to His only begotten son, Jesus of Nazareth.”

  “Full up,” Enya said, locking her elbows. Aurie followed, her arms still shaking. Then, they both stood.

  Enya began wiggling her arms with a smile at her, still a shadow in the darkness. “How do you feel?”

  Aurie copied her, loosening her arms. Her breath was struggling to fill her lungs, but her muscles were aching to move. She could feel her feet sweating pockets into the frost of the boards. She actually wanted to continue. She smiled.

  “Good,” Enya beamed. “I told you you’d start to like it.” Enya was already bouncing on her bare feet for the door.

  “You also said it would get easier,” Aurie eyed her. “How far are we going this time?”

  Enya shrugged, hopping from foot to foot as she opened the front door of Aurie’s house. Outside was still dark, with a hint of light rising in a pink and blue glow from the horizon beyond Draka’s house up the hill. Enya leapt from her porch to the middle of the road and waited, hopping. Aurie rushed over to her side.

  “Only to the river and back,” Enya shrugged at her.

  Aurie breathed a sigh of relief between her own hops. Then she noticed Enya’s squinty-eyed—well, more than usual with those dark hooded and slanted eyes of hers—grin.

  She shook her head. Wait for it.

  “Six times.”

  There it is.

  “And some obstacles between. Come on. Forward, at double time…”

  They ran up the hill, past Draka’s house, and down. Then, they ran up and down the next to the river. She didn’t even think about what had happened to her when she had been there all those months ago, what Lillith had done to her that day. It didn’t cross her mind even as they stopped and did more push-ups calling out the first half of what would be her Paladinate Oath.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  They called it ‘The Loss of Mines.’ As a Paladin, she was reminded every down and up when they stopped, you give up yourself as an individual outwardly. Since the Holy Spirit wouldn’t choose anyone unwilling to do so, it is essentially a formality and meant as an affirmation of understanding. And reaffirmation if mistakes are made. Enya made her say them with every exercise. If she and Enya were lifting a log between them and moving it from shoulder to shoulder over their heads—which was more times than she can count by this point—every movement was accompanied by a ‘mine is not…’ and ‘…but…’ and so on.

  They stopped at the edge of the forest on their sixth round of the river and Enya pointed at the tree she had been tied to by Lillith.

  Aurie gritted her teeth and stiffened. Enya pointed at a branch that was just low enough for her to jump to and thin enough that she could grip it.

  “Pull ups,” Enya pointed again. Aurie was frozen. “Problem?”

  “I just. Can I pick a different tree?”

  “Is that one too good for you? It’s a perfect tree, what’s wrong with it?”

  Aurie swallowed. It was then that she realized her hand was on the scar on her neck. She blinked it away and tried to turn around. Maybe she could find a different tree. Instead, she found Enya standing in front of her with those muscular arms crossed over her wide chest.

  “Tell me,” Enya’s normally gruff voice softened.

  For once, it sounded almost like she was singing a lullaby by how foreign and feminine the higher pitch was. It was soothing in a way that made Aurie take a deeper breath. Even her face had softened. Those wide, rounded dark skinned cheeks and thick lips suddenly looked less like the features of a warrior and more like those of a fellow woman who would help her in the garden and watch her children play while she finished hanging the laundry. For a moment, she almost saw Enya standing in a dress, ready to embrace her and let her cry in her arms because that was what she wanted to do.

  Aurie suddenly felt the cold morning air rifle through her thin cotton clothes as if they weren’t there. Her toes turned to ice. She hugged at her shivers.

  “I was attacked here,” she nodded at the tree. “By Lillith. Men defended me. She…turned them…against me. Except one. But they all died anyway. That’s how I got this,” she touched the scar on her neck and lifted the bottom of her shirt just enough to show another. “And another one that’s…well, I’m not going to show you that one.”

  “You don’t need to,” Enya let her crossed arms fall and grabbed Aurie’s shoulders. Aurie looked up to her. She has yet to even meet a man as tall as this woman. Enya smiled down at her, “I didn’t know or I would have picked a different spot and tree.”

  Aurie nodded. “It’s really cold.” Her teeth were beginning to clatter.

  “Eh,” Enya was shivering too, she could see it. But instead of hugging herself to warm up, she turned to regard the tree with a hand to her chin. “Pretty big tree, too. Healthy, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah,” Aurie rubbed at her arms. “Yeah, I’m losing feeling in my toes. I’m going to run back to the house and get warmer clothing. And boots. Are you coming?” Aurie started to ease her way back toward the house, but Enya reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Probably could build a good sized house with that tree, couldn’t we? Or at least the first room of one,” Enya grinned.

  Aurie shook with furrowed brows. “What?”

  “The tree,” Enya waved for her to take stock of it. “It could build at least a good bit of a house. You know, for some of the migrants living in those shacks.”

  Aurie heaved a smile. “I think I like that idea.”

  “One day, Lillith will find herself learning what it feels like to be helpless,” Enya said with a stiff jaw. “She didn’t try to kill you that day for no reason. You’re important in the fight against her. And, since we need to get those noodles strong enough to carry a sword and shield, what better way than chopping down that tree today?”

  Enya slapped her shoulder and began jogging back up the hill toward the house. Aurie blinked for a moment, staring at the tree in front of her. It was thick as a family of Enyas tied together. Cousins included. She wanted her to do what?

  “Wait, did you say that I was chopping that down…today?” Aurie called after her, sprinting to catch up.

  Enya, still jogging up the hill, turned around and jogged backwards to shout back, “I didn’t stutter, did I? Only so much sun in a day, best get to chopping.”