Ready

The fishermen cast her contemptuous looks.

“Now’s not the time for infighting,” Niamh began, and another fisherman spat at her,

“You should be with the other women. Where it’s safe.”

“If we don’t stay here,” Brenna said, “soon nowhere will be safe.”

The ships loomed bigger and faster on the horizon. Ciaran thought he could see teeth painted onto the sharp prows.

Niamh called out to the archers. “Ready your line!”

They nocked arrows and poised to fire. Brenna lowered her head and bit into her own wrist. Blood flowed, and she used it to draw on her own skin.