My snippet this week follows on from last week's sequence. This isn't Sorrel - this is her older sister, metaphorically. She is a charter pilot, on a lake in a jungle, and a gang of orcs are endeavouring to stop her and her passengers taking off. One of the two engines on the flying boat won't start, and she is making a hasty repair...
The orcs were trying to reach us. Some of them were going deeper into the water, struggling to swim out towards us. Most orcs don't swim too well, in my experience. Unfortunately for us, this bunch obviously had a few of the exceptions.
Ignore them, I told myself firmly, and pulled the spanner out from the tool-pouch at my belt. Easy task - no problem - just concentrate. Pipe... nut... injector-valve... sword... Sword? Volging lafquass! The orc's first blow missed - she was trying to pull herself out of the water, left hand on the wing strut, right hand gripping a vicious looking blade. She hacked again, this time connecting with my arm. A leather flying jacket makes pretty good armour, actually, fortunately for my left arm. Not to mention it being a glancing blow. I lashed back at her with the spanner, but she was out of reach. My spanner was only eight inches long - her sword looked more like eight feet long.
As always, comments welcomed!