Ciaran skidded to a halt beside Brenna, gave his sword a few practice swings.
“Right. What’s the plan?”
Eoghan gaped at him. “Where did you get that sword?”
“Er...” Ciaran darted a glance at his father nervously. “It was a --”
“Necessary precaution,” Odran said. “Don’t want the lad dying before he’s useful, aye?”
“We’re just peat farmers,” Eoghan said. “How can any of us possibly be useful in this fight?”
“We’ve sent our Padraig to the next village for reinforcements,” one of the fishermen said.
“I doubt they’ll get here in time,” Brenna said.
“What do you know of war?”
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