For this week's sample, I shall continue where I left off last week. The POV is Korma's. I hope you enjoy it. :)
My protest that we had not settled on a price died in my throat as the tent flap was thrust aside. Lon strode through with Kort on his heels.
“I told you, Kort. They were hiding her.”
“Where is the sword, wench.” Kort stalked toward me, balling his fists as he came.
I backed up, instinctively reaching for my hip, but my fingers met nothing but air.
Lord Dentin stepped into Kort’s path and placed a hand on in the center of the man’s chest. “You have no business here.” Despite their similar height, Kort easily weighed twenty pounds more.
Kort swatted Dentin’s hand away and tried to shove him aside. “She is mine.”
Dentin widened his stance. Catching the larger man’s arm, Dentin used Kort’s forward momentum to throw him onto one of the cots. The wood groaned and gave way in a shower of splinters and wood. Kort bellowed in pain.
Lon launched himself at Dentin. At the last possible moment, Dentin stepped aside. Lon ran straight into the center support pole. The tent shook around us, but Lon rebounded, stumbling backwards out the tent door. He reappeared a moment later, practically dangling from Major Dyrease’s grip.
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for the next installment of Medieval Word Wednesday.