"Why am I too young to kill?" Trinket asked. She tilted her head, looking up at the blacksmith but making no other movement, not the slightest twitch of another muscle.
"A mershark told me that you have to kill in order to survive. That someone might try to kill me because they don't like me. So I have to kill them first. If I don't have an axe, I won't be able to kill them first. Therefore, I'll die."
Her eyes were wide but far from innocent. She weighed the blacksmith with those eyes, scrutinizing the very depths of his soul. She knew that word: soul. But to know was not to understand. She didn't know how a soul could "change." Or if she even had one.
But she knew the game.
"Do you want me to die?" she asked the blacksmith. "If I don't have an axe, when they come to try to kill me, I will die."
She showed no signs of fear at this prospect. Merely curiosity. It would be an interesting thing, to die. She knew what death was. She knew the word. But to know was not to understand.
"A mershark told me that you have to kill in order to survive. That someone might try to kill me because they don't like me. So I have to kill them first. If I don't have an axe, I won't be able to kill them first. Therefore, I'll die."
Her eyes were wide but far from innocent. She weighed the blacksmith with those eyes, scrutinizing the very depths of his soul. She knew that word: soul. But to know was not to understand. She didn't know how a soul could "change." Or if she even had one.
But she knew the game.
"Do you want me to die?" she asked the blacksmith. "If I don't have an axe, when they come to try to kill me, I will die."
She showed no signs of fear at this prospect. Merely curiosity. It would be an interesting thing, to die. She knew what death was. She knew the word. But to know was not to understand.
