"Hee-yah!"
Hand stilling, Garsiv paused in brushing down his horse as the high pitched squeal of a nearby child reached his ears. Aksh's ear flickered in annoyance and the gelding stamped one hoof against the stable stall floor.
"Sshh, quiet boy," the Persian murmured, patting the horse's flanks as he listened again for sounds of the child. He wasn't disappointed.
"Take that! And that!"
His lips twitching with the need to smile, Garsiv turned, tossing aside the brush he'd been using and walked out of Aksh's stall, ignoring the soft whicker of his horse as he walked out into the open air of the palace yard beyond.
"You're no match for me!"
Halting when he finally found the source of the noise, Garsiv stepped beneath the shade of a nearby tree, crossing his arms and leaning against the trunk to watch the display before him.
White robes whipped through the air as the little girl jumped and weaved through the tall grass, stick in hand. Her little face was red and shiny with exertion but still she clambered about, parrying and thrusting forward with the pretend sword, chopping at imaginary foes.
Stifling the urge to laugh, Garsiv searched the ground nearby for another stick, finding a sturdy one lodged beneath a pile of leaves. Stooping to collect his new weapon, the soldier crept forward, advancing on the little girl until he was only a few steps away.
When she spun again to hack at the empty air, Garsiv intercepted her blow with his own weapon, the two sticks letting out a loud crack as they connected.
Without missing a beat, the little girl's eyed widened and she let out an impressively feral a war cry, rushing forward to attack her new foe. Not a word was spoken as Garsiv fought her off, stepping back slowly as she swung at him with mighty blows from her sword. He retreated until his back hit the trunk of the tree he had been leaning against.
"Surrender!" The girl yelled, her stick pointed directly at his throat while his own hung limply at his side.
"I surrender," Garsiv replied, dropping his 'sword' and falling to his knees in defeat.
The little warrior eyed him, panting for breath. "Say, 'I surrender, Lady Amira, Queen of the Barbarians.'"
He fought hard not to let his smile show. "I surrender, Lady Amira, Queen of the Barbarians."
"But you never surrender," she whined, sword dropping to her side.
One corner of his lips kicked up against his will. "I do when the odds are against me. Tactics, little one."
Amira's eyes sparkled with a barely contained glee. "Does that mean I still win?"
"Yes."
Her second war-cry startled him, but he engulfed her in his embrace when Amira threw herself into his arms. "Thank you, Uncle Garsiv," she mumbled against his neck. Jumping back she grinned at him, her dark hair tangled wildly around her face. "I'm going to pat the horses!"
Getting to his feet, Garsiv brushed the grass and dirt from his knees. "Amira," he called, stopping her before she disappeared into the stable. "Don't tell Dastan." I would never hear the end of it.
Her expression fell. "But Papa would be so proud."
"If you keep it a secret," he said, walking forward to meet her. "I'll let you ride Aksh."
A gasp left her. Amira stuck her hand toward him, waiting for him to shake. "Promise?"
He shook her hand, sealing the deal. "Promise."
With a squeal of delight, the little girl turned and ran into the stable.
Feel free to suggest more adventures for little Amira and her Uncle Garsiv ...