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The flat snap of my crossbow echoed over the hills, followed a second later by a muffled grunt of surprise from below. Then, not a sound.Deftly I cocked the bow again, using the borderer technique that does it without any sound. After a bit I eased as quietly as I could to one side, then went motionless once more.In the first dull gray light of dawn I was tired, but still alive. I glanced over at my packs. Sure enough, the older of the two men was tumbled in the rocks, a quarrel heart-high, but a little to the right of the heart. That was his right, centered in his torso. My uncle would have nodded and cuffed me once again for being too timid. A light dusting of snow covered the body, but the snowfall was slowly picking up steam. I had been a day's ride from Yergan Camp, now I was two or three, on foot.I moved back uphill slowly, at an angle away from the road. It had not snowed hard enough to obscure the horse tracks leading upwards and I stayed well to one side of the road as I. Tommy’s voice, normally a thin, slightly off pitch tenor, was suddenly a very pleasant baritone. Tommy raised his eyebrows at Leo’s antics. Leo grinned and leaned towards him.“Sing louder, Tommy. You sound real good tonight,” the older man whispered.That night, Tommy found out that the latest insult to his brain housing group had restored his normal singing voice, but had erased his ability to mimic other singers. That pretty much ended his solo career, which didn’t bother him a fig.Friday night was another speech class with Connie and Ruth. Tommy’s headache was back with a vengeance before they’d been at it thirty minutes. Tommy stopped reading and opened a new packet of Goody’s.Both women looked at him worriedly.“What’s wrong, Baby?” Connie asked.Tommy explained about the headaches. It was the first time he’d mentioned them to anyone.Connie thought that Tommy needed to go back to the doctors as soon as possible, but Ruth just looked at him speculatively. Something in his.
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