Chapter 49
Odi stretched her arms wide, cracking every joint with a satisfying pop that echoed through the quiet tent. Her back arched like a cat waking from a long nap, and she let out a groan that was half relief, half "I survived this." The faint, golden morning light seeped through the tent's worn canvas flaps, casting soft patterns on the dirt floor. Outside, a rooster crowed—somewhere far too enthusiastically for anyone still recovering.
Pete sat cross-legged a few feet away, his eyes narrowed in intense concentration as he dragged a whetstone across his dagger blade. The scraping noise was rhythmic and oddly dramatic, as if he were preparing for battle against a particularly dangerous potato. With every stroke, he exaggerated the motion like a fencer preparing for a duel with a laundry basket.
Odi glanced over, eyebrows raised. "You sharpening that thing for a fight or just trying to make it pretty?"
