1,500 words on the plane. Closing in on the ending. Definitely running short, but as
I reached for the brazier’s tripod. Iso swung around behind his brother, flowed into a motion so smooth and fast I could barely see it, and launched a cobblestone that struck me in the chest. That forced me to stagger back, all breath lost as pain radiated with a starburst of cold, miserable sharpness.
It took almost a dozen, deep, whooping breaths for me to begin to recover. The twins paid me the insult of ignoring me. Iso scanned the darkness, looking vaguely worried. Osi had started to chant. The night air was curdling, like a mist being born around us.