“Y-you cut me!” Sir Kit whimpered, letting go of Summer. She collapsed to the ground in a dead faint while Sir Kit dropped his sword in the dust to clutch at the spurting stump. “You can’t do that! Y-you — I’m telling my father!” He scrambled away, abandoning his sword and leaving little drops of blood in the dust. It took him a couple tries to mount his horse, what with the horse objecting to the smell of the blood and Sir Kit being very ginger with his right hand, and then he tore off down the road, accompanied by fading yelps of pain.
“Of course — those sorts of injuries heal, but what you are doing and planning on inflicting on that poor woman will not. I have faith that if I were to hand her the sword right now, then she would probably react the same way,” Sir Isaac stated before he straightened up, a smirk twisting on his features. That’s right…run to daddy.” He shook his head in exasperation before he finally turned to Summer, his expression softening as he held out his hand. “I’m so sorry…”
Several of the children crept over the wall, patting at the maiden’s face and hands. One of them, a boy of about four, stood between Sir Isaac and Summer, hands on his hips and trying very hard to look fierce. “You can’t hurt her!” he declared, defiantly. One of the little girls began to cry.