Authors: Elizabeth Moon
The diamond eyes sparkle defiantly.
Slowly he draws himself up to his full height, many a handspan over hers. Then he turns away from her. No smaller footsteps follow, nor is protest voiced. Good. He goes to the place where his tools are and chooses a heavy ax, one that only a large man might wield comfortably, and returns to the door. She is still waiting. Silently. Good.
He drops the ax at her feet, head first.
“Woodpile's in the back,” he tells her.
Her foot is no longer blocking the door. He shuts it and returns to his desk. Turning up the wick on his reading lamp, he opens up the next scroll of Chantoni writing, pinning its corners down with river stones.
He does not start reading again until he hears the sound of wood splitting.