He remembered Orven's hand against his shoulder, the embarrassing ease with which the man had put him on the floor, and Ava correcting the way he twisted during movement drills.
Frost shifted his feet and turned the shield instead of hauling it straight back.
The hook slipped free.
Before he could congratulate himself, the creature struck at him again. He managed to catch the blow, though the force sent a dull ache through his forearm.
Nessa's spear darted beneath its raised limb, this time finding something softer.
A harsh squeal broke from the creature.
It turned sharply towards her, forcing her to withdraw, but the movement exposed its side to Frost. He saw the narrow gap between two plates, hesitated, then drove his sword towards it.
The point went in.
Not far, but far enough that the resistance suddenly changed.
The creature jerked, wrenching the blade sideways before Frost could pull it out. Pain tugged through his wrist, and he nearly lost his grip.
