**A/N: I've been asked what 'Miniver Cheevy' means. It's a poem by Edward
Arlington Robinson. If you haven't read it- go check it out! Sorry for the
lack of updates and how short this chapter is. School has kept me busy, but
there should be more now that break is here! Wooo! Winter!
"I can't keep my eye on the target if you keep moving it!"
"It would be a lot easier if you could keep your arse on the saddle!"
Will stopped his horse and pushed his visor up. Sweat was running down his forehead, clouding his vision. The afternoon sun was turning his armor into a melting machine.
"Are we almost done yet?"
Wat groaned and set down the wood target. "You need practise. You remember what Cora said, right?"
"I said that he is better than Adhemar. That he fights like William. A true hunter."
Both men turned to the voice. Cora was standing between two trees, looking at them with a watchful eye. William lowered himself from his horse and stood next to Wat.
Wat let out a low whistle. "You look like a lady! Doesn't she, Will?" Wat nudged William in the ribs, hard.
William took off his helmet and nodded in approval.
"I am a lady you prat. I'm leaving soon to meet Gerald. Are you two done bickering or should I fetch Roland to break it up?"
William stepped forward towards Cora. "You don't have to do this, you know."
"I know."
"I don't want you to be a casualty in my war."
"I won't be on the battlefield. I might be a pawn, Will. But you're a knight. Your concern flatters me. But you aren't the one who should be worrying." She looked at Wat who raised his eyebrows.
"What?"
"Dropping targets? Arguments? Will needs to be training, Wat, not pretending to fight."
Wat scowled. "I never asked for a sister, Cora. And I don't recall asking for a mother, either."
"You go both when you took me on. Keep practising. I'm going to find Gerald."
"Be careful," Wat said, his voice serious.
"You too. The last thing we need is for your eye to get poked out." She winked at Will and turned around, walking back through the trees.
"She's impossible."
"She's your sister."
"I can't keep my eye on the target if you keep moving it!"
"It would be a lot easier if you could keep your arse on the saddle!"
Will stopped his horse and pushed his visor up. Sweat was running down his forehead, clouding his vision. The afternoon sun was turning his armor into a melting machine.
"Are we almost done yet?"
Wat groaned and set down the wood target. "You need practise. You remember what Cora said, right?"
"I said that he is better than Adhemar. That he fights like William. A true hunter."
Both men turned to the voice. Cora was standing between two trees, looking at them with a watchful eye. William lowered himself from his horse and stood next to Wat.
Wat let out a low whistle. "You look like a lady! Doesn't she, Will?" Wat nudged William in the ribs, hard.
William took off his helmet and nodded in approval.
"I am a lady you prat. I'm leaving soon to meet Gerald. Are you two done bickering or should I fetch Roland to break it up?"
William stepped forward towards Cora. "You don't have to do this, you know."
"I know."
"I don't want you to be a casualty in my war."
"I won't be on the battlefield. I might be a pawn, Will. But you're a knight. Your concern flatters me. But you aren't the one who should be worrying." She looked at Wat who raised his eyebrows.
"What?"
"Dropping targets? Arguments? Will needs to be training, Wat, not pretending to fight."
Wat scowled. "I never asked for a sister, Cora. And I don't recall asking for a mother, either."
"You go both when you took me on. Keep practising. I'm going to find Gerald."
"Be careful," Wat said, his voice serious.
"You too. The last thing we need is for your eye to get poked out." She winked at Will and turned around, walking back through the trees.
"She's impossible."
"She's your sister."