Some men found it difficult, becoming blinded by sweat and tears, burnt by bile.
But Robin took to it easily. It was all a matter of mechanics and grace; a dance. Step, swing, turn, slice. It was only later, when the battle was ended and he was left standing amidst a sea of bodies, that he realized what he had done.
His commanders said he had a gift. In the nights, when the smell of blood would not leave his nostrils, and all he saw when he tried to sleep was death shrouding the eyes of his opponents, he cursed the giver.
