the ground, sweating, exhausted, and angry at myself for not being a master with weapons. Who knew that defending yourself was going to be so challenging? I expect to be unskilled, but I'm fumbling so much that I even cut my fingers trying to fix my grip on one of the knives. I swipe at the sweat on my forehead, feeling rather pitiful. "I need a weapon for idiots."
He snaps his fingers. "Of course."
I look up, indignant. What does he mean, of course? But Aron's heading into the trees, preoccupied, and he returns a few minutes later with a big branch. "A staff?"
He studies it. "It might be too short to be a staff, but we can make it work." He lops a twiggy offshoot off of it, then holds it out to me. "Come, give it a try."
I get to my feet, and even though my arms are aching and I want to whine, I give it a shot anyhow. It was my idea to learn weapons, after all. I can't bitch and moan that I suck at them, not when he's taking the time to teach me. So I heft it in my hands. The wood isn't all that smooth and tears at my palms, but the weight isn't bad. It comes up to mid-breast for me, and there's a knobby, ugly knot at one end. "Okay, it's a staff. How do I do this? Where do I grip it?"
Aron looks at me like I'm stupid. "You hit people with it."
"Duh. I mean, I just walk around with a giant club? And people are okay with that?" Then again, he's wandering around bristling with weapons, but I feel like a girl wandering the countryside with a giant stick kind of screams obvious.
He gives it a thoughtful look. "We can decorate it. Throw some charms or fripperies on the end so it looks like an affectation instead of a weapon. And then when they dismiss you for a soft female, you hit them with it." He taps the knot at the end. "Especially with this part."
"So…I clock people with it like a bat?" I heft it in my arms and hold it at one end. It's a bit too long to be a bat, so I adjust my grip and give it a careful half-swing. It pulls at my wrists, but I think it's doable. "I can knock a home run with this, I think. I played softball when I was a teenager."
"You'll break your wrists holding it like that," Aron warns.
"Then make me wrist supports, Mr. Weapons Expert."
"Do I look like an armorer?"
I drop the staff again, toying with the heft of it. "You look like someone that wants to be hit in the head with a bat if we're asking me," I mutter.
He throws his head back and laughs. "You're very violent for one so soft, Faith. I like that."
His words make me flustered. I'm not sure if it's a compliment or not, since I just offered to knock him in the head, but he's a god of battle. Maybe that shit turns him on. "You're a very strange man, you know that?"
"Your first mistake is thinking I am a man," Aron tells me, and his eyes gleam with amusement, little sparks flicking in them and making me think of lightning.
Of course, seeing that makes me shiver, just a little. He's a god. Just because we joke around and he gets muddy like I do, it doesn't mean we're the same. Sometimes I forget. I'm so used to the electric charge when we touch I barely notice it anymore. I didn't notice it when I bathed him.
Good god, why am I always thinking of him naked? "I have far too many problems right now," I tell myself under my breath. "And all of them are named Aron." I shoot him a look, but he's still got that speculative, eyes-flashing-lightning expression on his face and I avert my gaze. "We should get going," I say loudly. "Just in case someone's coming after us."
"Indeed." He sounds thoughtful, but he doesn't move.
"I'll practice with my bat later," I tell him, and deliberately avoid eye contact, even when he moves closer to me. I focus on the branch itself, pretending to pick at a particularly knotty spot as he stands next to me, his gaze still fixed on my face…or my body. I wonder what he's thinking.