As I Look

“You knew my mother?” Rastaban asked.

“She was an excellent warrior,” Shanka said shortly. “Apparently you inherited more than her handsome face.” She turned and reached for her horse’s tether. “I’ll be watching you.”

Rastaban stayed her hand. “All I remember was that my mother died.”

“Fighting honorably to defend her land, as opposed to ceaselessly harassing other nations for stores she was too lazy to work for,” Shanka said. “She’d have been sad to see you a warrior, and even sadder to see you reduced to this.”

“How did you know her?”

“I’m not as young as I look.”