Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. "Amazement!" cried Wild. "That I can't say. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them.
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