Page 8 of Lorran
The youth pulled himself up to the first ledge, huffing with the effort. Lorran called down with words of encouragement.
Gavran grasped a handhold, his foot kicking at the wall for purchase, and he pulled himself up. Pride surged in Lorran’s chest. His nephew was tall for his age and strong. Lorran had heard cautionary tales about males who damaged their horns and walked in circles for hours, unable to orient themselves.
What nonsense. Gavran had never had horns, so the lack of horn would not hinder his balance. He did worry about the lack of protection for Gavran’s skull; his precious head seemed so vulnerable without horns to take the force of a blow.
Gavran reached for the second ledge, rather than the handhold.
“Do not overreach,” Lorran cautioned.
“I can reach.” He stretched, and his foot slipped. For a heart-wrenching moment, he clung to the handhold.
Lorran threw himself down, the uneven simulated stone digging into his stomach. Too slow. His hand brushed Gavran’s tiny fingers, and the youth fell.
The fall took forever, as if time broke and gravity reversed. Gavran hung in the air, his eyes wide with fear. Lorran’s name tore from his lips.
Time and gravity resumed their proper function. Lorran jumped down, landing roughly and scraping his hands.
Gavran lay there, unmoving and staring blankly up. The force of the fall had knocked the protective vest open. Supine, Gavran looked so human and fragile.
No helmet. Why hadn’t he insisted on a helmet?
Lorran broke the child.
Had Gavran been blinded? Had the equipment failed to absorb the fall? Cracked his skull on the floor? The flooring had absorption for such events. Clearly this was a design flaw. He would seek retribution from the engineer responsible for this vile contraption.
Worse, the situation proved Lorran failed at being a good uncle. He behaved irresponsibly. His brother’s mate had been wrong to entrust him with the care of someone so precious and irreplaceable.
“Gavran, speak,” he croaked.
Seeran was going to kill him.
Gavran clutched his belly and laughed. His little legs kicked, and his head rolled from side to side. “I wanna do it again!”
“Perhaps not.” He breathed a sigh of relief.
“I went whoosh! Did you see?”
“I witnessed it.”
“Again! Oh, please, Uncle Lorran.” Gavran bounced to his feet, the vest askew on his slim frame but otherwise in place. A quick check ensured that the equipment had absorbed the impact. The child was undamaged.
Lorran breathed a sigh of relief. “We must re-secure our protective gear.”
Caught up in refastening and checking all the buckles, Lorran did not sense the presence standing over him.
“What are you doing?”
Chapter 2
Wyn
“Oh, goody. The patriarchy.” Sonia stood in the front door, her arm braced against the doorframe. A profoundly serious soldier stood on the other side, not impressed with Sonia’s attitude. “It must be someone’s birthday,” she said dryly.
“It’s my birthday!” Wyn threw her hands in the air and nearly fell over. She grabbed at the counter’s edge and hauled herself upright. She barely slept last night from nerves. Exhaustion made her slap-happy, but never off-balance. “Hey, what’s in this coffee?”
“Miss Davies?” The soldier stared down at Sonia. Wyn sort of wished she could see Sonia’s face because it had to be epic, but she wanted to finish her breakfast before the patriarchy took her away for testing.
“No, you want the birthday girl.” Sonia hooked a finger over her shoulder.
