Chapter 18: The Tenth Month
Ten months had passed since the training began.
The once quiet and ancient dark oak forest, now riddled with scorch marks, split trees, and trenches from intense combat drills, whispered of the story being carved into its soil.
Broken branches and shattered rocks littered the area.
The crisp autumn air had settled in, bringing with it a chill that bit at the skin. Leaves—reddish-brown and golden—danced across the ground in the breeze, brushing past the two figures standing in the middle of the clearing.
Menma adjusted the thick gray scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. His hair had grown longer, messier, but it suited the hardened look in his eyes.
A shadow of facial hair now grew along his chin and jawline—his first mustache and beard. He had grown taller too, and broader in the shoulders.
Time had changed him—slowly but unmistakably.
A bag rested against his hip, strapped diagonally across his back. His hand rested against the hilt of his sword,but now there was something different about the hilt..
The ring that Menma used to carry around his neck, now had been become a part of the hilt.
fingers flexing slightly in anticipation. A short distance behind him, Zayne leaned against a splintered tree trunk, arms crossed, his sharp eyes surveying the environment as if analyzing the wind itself.
In the distance, the leaves stirred unnaturally.