Making the Team
Part 7
Menzo looked up at Joren’s face which was so open and trusting, and sighed. “You have so much purpose. I can’t think how you do it.”
Joren laughed earnestly before he was cut short by his bruised ribs. “I don’t know why you would speak as though you had none,” he breathed, rubbing at his chest until Menzo made to grab his hand.
“Hey! Remember what Medah said.”
The young man pulled away and made a face at the pain in his shoulder while his companion scowled at him until he carried on, waving his hand gingerly. “Isn’t your sense of purpose what makes you want to turn down my proposition?”
“You mean protecting the village?”
“Yes, though no matter what you say, there is no more need for you to do so now that Mirrhe is dead.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you.”
Menzo was spared any reply when the door suddenly slammed open and the gray-haired Vigil stormed into the healer woman’s dwelling. As soon as he had laid eyes on his counterpart, he stomped forward and looked over him without touching him, not even seeming to notice Menzo’s presence.
“Joren! You look absolutely terrible. What in the world have you done?” he questioned with a strained voice as his hands hovered in the air above his pupil’s shoulders. Menzo wondered if the man might also have wanted to shake Joren, but perhaps that was just his imagination. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”
The bowman snorted before choking back his hilarity with a passable attempt at coughing. “So, he disregarded direct instructions, eh?” Menzo thought to himself, hardly surprised. Meanwhile, Yavan looked at him askance but said nothing.