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available, he chose the longsword, the longbow, and throwing knives.
    Errol smiled to himself, fairly pleased at Prap’s selection of weapons as he led the other man out of the Station House. Just about every type of ranged weapon was in his wheelhouse, as were almost all knives. The only item that he might not fare exceptionally well with, on this occasion, was the longsword, but he was certain that any deficiency there would be more than offset by his expertise with the other two weapons.
    All of this flitted through Errol’s mind as they walked across the Station grounds. Their destination was a large tree near the Station’s corral that held the archery target that Errol often used for practice.
    It took only minutes for Errol to demonstrate his mastery of the bow; he struck the target dead center every time. He was getting ready to demonstrate the same expertise with the throwing knives when, just as he drew his left hand back by his ear in preparation for release, Prap gripped his wrist.
    “No,” Prap said, looking into the boughs of the tree that held the archery board. “Not the target. There.” He pointed.
    Errol looked in the direction that Prap was indicating. In the branches of the tree, above the archery target, he saw a small bird – a robin – chirping softly.
    “What?” Errol asked, unsure of what Prap was trying to say.
    “The bird,” Prap answered in a slightly mischievous voice. “That’s your target.”
    “What?” Errol asked, somewhat taken aback. “Why?”
    “Because it’s making too much noise,” Prap said irritably. “Because I’m hungry and want to eat it. Because I said so.”
    Clarity dawned unexpectedly on Errol, and with it came an innate understanding of the man who stood next to him. Prap wasn’t just a bad Warden; he was, at least in some ways, a bad person . He had some sort of sadistic streak in him, which Errol sincerely hoped was limited to animals. It was suddenly clear why Prap was assigned to work with someone else – someone like Bander, who could keep an eye on him and keep him in line.
    “No,” Errol replied firmly. He’d been trained in the use of all kinds of weapons, but he didn’t employ his skills in the casual taking of life, even that of animals. He frowned at the very thought of it.
    Prap made a sound of disgust, and Errol knew with plain certainty what the man was about to do.
    Faster than Errol would have given him credit for, Prap whipped out his own knife and flung it at the bird. At the same time, acting on impulse rather than conscious thought, Errol yanked out his Wendigo dagger and threw it as swiftly as he could.
    In terms of trajectory, Errol’s intention was for his blade to intercept Prap’s, thereby spoiling the latter’s aim. However, as he had released his dagger a fraction of a second after his companion, his expectation was that he would fail. Thus, it came as a great surprise to Errol (and presumably Prap as well) when the clang of metal-on-metal rang out as the dagger – somehow exuding greater speed than Errol’s throw warranted – bumped Prap’s knife. The two blades ricocheted away from each other before passing within a hairsbreadth of the robin on either side of the bird. The robin took off in terror, chirping hysterically. The knife and dagger, their momentum drained by leaves and branches, fell harmlessly out of the tree a second later.
    Errol gave Prap a harsh look, then went to fetch the blades. When he returned, he fiercely shoved the hilt of Prap’s knife into the man’s hand without saying a word, and then – resuming his test – angrily hurled the throwing knives into the center of the target.
    “Well,” Prap said, after Errol had retrieved his weapons from the target, “considering your skill with the bow and knives, you certainly won’t have any trouble if you have to put a bolt or a knife in an enemy’s back like some coward.”
    Errol, still upset about the situation with the robin, felt anger