The Talking Sword – Post 5

“What is wrong with your legs? Are they supposed to sound like that?” She finally asked.

Marcus looked down, then reached down and rapped his knuckles against the lower leg of his pants. There was a hollow sound, like knocking on a door.

“Completely artisan made from the knee down. The creaking is the leather cup that keeps my stump comfortable.”

Dawn looked at him closely “Artisan made? What is that?”

“Ah, I suppose that these days you would say artificial.”

“So you have a wooden leg?” Dawn asked, curious.

“Wooden leg? Not for a very long time. It is made of carbon fibre these days and could survive being run over by a cart.”

“A cart?” Dawn smiled.

“Umm … a motor car? A Mack truck? Does that sound better?”

“I suppose so.”

Her grandfather spoke again. “These three and your father were very close before he met your mother. But then their work, um I suppose you could call it work, it called them away.”

Dawn offered them the tray of sandwiches again.

“So you knew my mother? What was she like, can you tell me?”

Advertisement