The Thief Who Pulled On Trouble's Braids - Plot & Excerpts
Not very long. The moon hadn’t moved across the sky perceptibly. I sat up, trembling and dazed. My shoulder was on fire. I was amazed to be alive. What had hit me? The creature that had tried to break into my place. That insane, all-consuming instant hatred was not something I was likely to forget, or mistake. I’ve no idea why it didn’t kill me. I would certainly have killed it, given the chance. With the feeling that welled up in me when it was near, I would have crawled through fire to slit its throat. I shrugged. Now was not the time to be gathering wool. I did a once-over on myself and discovered a knot on the side of my head and a bloody shoulder. And a missing dagger. I searched all around me in the dark beneath the window, thinking I had dropped it. It was gone. I shrugged, and sighed. Another knife lost to the creature, I assumed. “All right,” I breathed, “that’s enough for one night, Amra.” I closed the shutter and made my way back to the wall.
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