"Leslie What & Nina Kiriki Hoffman - Chain of Command" - читать интересную книгу автора (What Leslie)

"Mom," she said again. I guess she realized I was serious. She snapped the sleeping bag over, flicked it
so it rolled up, and stuffed it into a stuff sack. She did remember everything I'd taught her on our first
camp-out.



Then she glared at me. "I hope you know, this is war. I challenge you!" She shook her head and looked
down at me. "I'll never forgive you," she whispered.



"For what?"



"Stealing my boyfriend." She turned and crawled out of the cave, never glancing back.




When I woke up the next morning, I had the most beautiful collection of bruises I'd ever acquired, even
in a lifetime of mock and real battles. Troll-pinching-mail-pinching-skin equaled bruises shaped like
purple-black roses, mostly concentrated on my butt. I dressed in my everyday warrior woman wear, mail
hauberk, stainless steel cuirass, and chausses, my mail stockings, which covered all my troll marks but the
three hickeys on my neck.



Despite the already stifling heat, I unpacked my coif-de-mailles and put it on my head. It covered my
head and shoulders, leaving only my face bare. My hair instantly dampened with sweat. It was going to
be one of those days. I swallowed a salt tablet and chugged some water.



I pulled on my boots and loaded up on armaments. I really wanted to kill something. Preferably
something big.



I stepped out of the teepee into the heat of the sun, and flashing light temporarily blinded me. Shading my
eyes, I took another look.



A tall woman stood there in mail so shiny I knew it had never been fought in. She wore a helmet with a
gray whale rampant for a crest.



I sniffled. Her birthday suit, the one I gave her when she turned fifteen. My daughter had finally put it on.