Maela appeared to only have bruised ribs, although her shoulder was a mess. She had trouble lifting even light things above her shoulder even two weeks later. Sitting at the dining table, Maela lifted a fork with her arm while Darla had her back to her while cutting some greens in the kitchen. It didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t lift the knife above her shoulder.

Knowing that it meant that she was most likely permanently injured, Maela tossed the knife to the table with a clatter, and covered her eyes with her right hand. A moment later she felt a hand take her hand and squeeze it.

“I can be your arm,” Darla said, love and concern in her voice, which only made Maela’s tears fall in greater quantities.

“My arm can’t even cover my tears,” Maela said, sniffing and wiping her eyes, trying to restore the strength she liked to project, even to Darla.

Sitting down, Darla rubbed Maela’s damaged shoulder. “I have something to show you.” Maela looked up at her, but Darla looked serious and not sympathetic. “Hold up your right hand.”

Maela hesitantly held up her hand. Without warning, Darla swung a punch at Maela, aiming directly for her hand. The fist struck Maela’s hand with a slap and moved it back a few inches, but Maela withstood the punch easily.

“You stopped an attack!” Darla said. “Now I have been rendered helpless, and you are holding a horse with your left hand. Pull me to my feet!” Darla slid out of the chair to the floor.

“Darla, this is point—”

“Save me!”

Maela reached down with her right hand and easily pulled Darla to her feet. Darla was bigger than Maela and had built back her muscles during their time in the cabin. In fact, Maela was slightly shocked. They had been naked together, but Maela had not realized how strong Darla was. She could feel it in her arm as she clenched Darla’s hand, pulling her up.

Still, as solid as Darla was, Maela lifted her off the floor. “I know what you are doing,” Maela said. Darla ignored her, and without letting go of Maela’s hand, pulled her to a standing position.

“Follow me,” she said, tugging on Maela’s hand. Maela followed as Darla led her out the back of the cabin. She led Maela to a single tree that stood in the clearing. It was not part of the magical forest that surrounded the cabin, and Darla had carved a rough target in the side of the bark. She used it as target practice for the kitchen knives that Maela had been grinding into perfectly weighted throwing knives for her.

Letting go of Maela’s hand, Darla marched over to the tree, pulled out a knife, and strode back to Maela. “Throw it.”

Clenching her jaw, Maela replied, “I’m not a master at throwing knives. That is your thing. Besides, you know I can’t.” Maela rubbed her wounded shoulder.

“By the gods, Maela, you are not stupid. You are not weak. Why do you look at your problems without the mind you used as a Thief?” Darla shoved her hand against Maela’s right arm. “Throw it.”

Maela lifted her arm, attempting to do an overhand throw, the type that had both power and accuracy. She couldn’t lift the knife above her shoulder and turned to Darla.

Crossing her arms, Darla looked angry as she emphatically said, “Throw it.”

Maela looked at the tree and half-heartedly tossed the knife at it from a side angle. It missed the tree entirely.

Darla marched over, picked up the knife, walked back, and handed it Maela. “Very good. Throw it again.”

After starting with what was half-hearted throws to make Darla happy, Maela’s attitude changed when she hit the target and the knife stuck in the tree. With real joy, she leapt up and shouted, “I hit the damn thing!” Darla ran over and gave her a hug.

From that point on, Maela experimented with different angles and grips. The grip was easy—it wasn’t much different than the grip she used when she hurled the knife overhanded. But the angle turned out to be interesting. She could toss the knife with the most force directly from the side, but she could throw it with the most accuracy from a true underhanded angle.

She had no illusions—she was not very good at tossing knives, but she had learned the lesson. She was able to effectively toss a knife. The only angle closed to her was overhanded. “Keep going,” Darla said with a smile.

After hitting the tree three times in a row, Maela turned and looked at Darla. “I could kiss you.”

Darla smiled. “Then you should.”

After a long kiss, Maela handed the knives to Darla. “Your turn.”

With frightening force and deadly accuracy, Darla hit the center of the target three times, the knives touching each other while embedded in the tree. “It’s my thing,” Darla said with a smirk.

Several weeks later, Maela looked at Darla as she was rolling dough on a wooden board covered in flour. They had both silently been training without admitting why. Maela had no sword but practiced with an axe that was left behind to chop wood. Darla would awaken and wander out and watch as Maela swung the axe around, practicing attacks of various angles and parries with the handle.

Darla had also spent hours every day building her strength. She was a true warrior, and Maela realized that after their ordeal in the mountain and Darla’s desire to recover with Maela afterward, that Maela had badly underestimated Darla’s willpower and abilities. It embarrassed her. She had told Darla in the cell when they met that Darla had to have been better than the men to be a female guard, and it was clearly true, but Maela had forgotten or dismissed it. Yet it was clear—Darla was formidable.

And there she was, day after day, muscles rippling as she lifted heavy logs and tossed them across the lawn. In between she would toss countless knives at the tree. Maela couldn’t remember seeing a single knife miss the tree, and nearly all clicked against each other as they embedded in the center. The entire time she did it without any words to Maela of her intent. She just trained.

Maela did the same, but it was clear what her goal was—to destroy the guardian that stood down the lane. As to Darla, Maela felt that she was training to help or to become strong enough to save Maela if things went poorly. So she was surprised as she walked over to help Darla cook, and her partner put the rolling pin down and said, “So I am confident we can defeat any foe together, but I fear I know not how to battle an invisible opponent.”

The comment surprised Maela and filled her with emotion. Darla wants to escape with me. “I think I love you,” Maela said, looking Darla in the eyes.

“Sure, we share a bed and clean the dishes together. We prepare food and take walks together, but it isn’t until I discuss battling an invisible guardian that you love me!” Darla said the words in a teasing manner and with a smile. They had never said that they loved each other, but they had recently come to say “I think I love you” whenever the one did something kind to the other.

“I didn’t say I love you,” Maela replied with a wicked smile.

“Oh yes. I guess I have to kill the invisible guardian to earn that.”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Maela said with a laugh.

In reply Darla picked up some flour and tossed it at Maela. Maela instinctively lifted her hand and as the flour flew; it left a trail through the dusty flour that revealed Maela’s face. Darla’s hand covered her mouth, and she said, “By the gods!”

Maela, looking concerned, said, “What is it? Are you okay?”

Darla lowered her hand, uncovering a huge smile. “I just realized how you defeat an invisible creature.”