In her hand was a gleaming bright silver sword with a green pommel and a miniscule sparkling emerald on the hilt. It was a little longer than Jyak, but much thinner. It was, in Kale’s eyes, a perfect sword. The weight felt like an extension of her arm. She turned it over in her hands, feeling the tip and weighing it in both arms. Only then did she catch the small words that were engraved halfway up the blade. It said:
Property of Elise Translunski
Kale gaped at the writing in awe. The name “Elise” was obviously a peasant woman’s name.
Paka had just rounded the last bend and called, “Mokonu, what are you doing up here? I thought….” His voice trailed away as he spotted the sword in her arm. He seemed like he was a slight loss for words, but quickly recovered. “Where did you get that sword?”
Kale’s voice sounded strangely distant as she replied, “Under that boulder….”
Paka moved toward the boulder and pushed it away with a hard shove. How he did that, Kale did not know, but she did not ask to find out. She gazed back at Elise Translunski’s perfect sword. What was a sword doing under that boulder? It must have been under there for years, yet the sword looked brand new.
“Um…Paka?” Kale asked. The boy was still gazing under where the boulder had been before he had moved it. He was probably looking for more treasure.
“Yes?” he said, without turning to look at her. Luno sniffed under the boulder beside him. The poor dog was panting from the long run.
“Did Haikeni ever mention a peasant named ‘Translunski’?” Master Haikeni was their history teacher. Kale always found it very hard to concentrate in his classes, due to it being the first subject after their six hours of training.
Paka now turned to face her. “Why do you ask?” he asked.
“I was just wondering. Now will you answer the question, please?” she snapped.
“No,” Paka said stubbornly, and went back to his search.
Her temper, which had been rising the whole day today, suddenly overflowed. “Paka, I want to know who this Translunski is right now and I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the mountains.
Paka looked unperturbed by her outburst. “Fine, then. I don’t know. Happy?”
“No, I’m not! Paka, this is important. I need to know who this Translunski is! Please, tell me!”
Becca Mann 
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