Practice, Precision, and Produce

In the cool dark branches below the tallest tree in the garden he danced.

Anteel had come to discover that Merith had in fact not stored away a secret satchel of old spirits, or a collection of ancient coins anywhere on the premises of his cottage. Anteel had looked into this carefully, then checked twice more to be sure. Anteel began to like the legend a bit less.

With all his bottles back with the wagon, he had to find something else to occupy his mind. So he danced. Sometimes with blades, sometimes without. He just liked the control and mesmerizing swiftness he found in his limbs when he let everything go. From branch to branch he rolled and twisted like a scarf in the wind. Climbing, falling, cutting and leaping.

A pile of fruit and vegetables cut to tiny pieces littered the shadows below the huge tree. They all grew from the same tree, and no matter how many times he cut them down, they were back again. Some had bites taken out of them. Some were almost indistinguishable as something organic. He had been in his tree for 9 hours now.

A huge swollen grapefruit, larger than a human skull, hung defiantly amongst a patch of apples and what appeared to be avocados. He decided to finish today's dance with a move he had been working on. He moved around the obese fruit, circling it on the thin branches. Once he found himself behind it, he lashed out, throwing both his swords. If the fruit had contained a skeleton, the blades would have hit right below the rib cage. It began to plummet towards the ground. Blades up, it landed with a juicy splat, just before he landed on top of it. He landed hunched like a cat, Legs straddling the citric foe. As he had reached the ground his hands found the hilts, and he tore them in opposite directions. The rended grapefruit exploded into pieces, and plummeted further down. Down off the edge of the island, for miles and miles.

Anteel stood on the edge, watching it fall. A deep evil laugh began to build up within him. A laugh that had made many men pray to their gods for mercy. He let it below out over the landscape he now overlooked, blades dripping wet with stinky juices.

"COME AND GET ME YOU SPINELESS BASTARDS!"

It was the laugh of a man who had taken the road of resistance, away from any goals he had placed, yet found his salvation in a foreign dream.