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The solid barrier of gold at the edge of Bradford’s mind told him that Will was mad at him.
It was not his fault.
Just because he thought something does not mean he made it happen. He was a mortal man without any magical talent. He didn’t have the ability to make things happen. Even if he did, it’s not like he wanted the Avenger to get attacked.
A giant crab tried to sneak its way into the salvaged supplies they’d gathered on the beach.
Will hit it with a stick. It grabbed it with its pincers, beginning the dumbest tug-o-war fight Bradford had ever seen.
Will clenched his jaw, and yanked with all his might. Throwing both the stick and the crab out into the water.
“We probably could have eaten that,” Bradford said.
Will threw out his arms to gesture around them. At least five other crabs could be seen up and down the beach. Each one with pincers strong enough to crush their skulls while they slept.
“I don’t suppose you know how to make a spear?” Bradford asked.
In hindsight, maybe asking the non-corporeal entity if he knew how to make one of the most primitive weapons ever created wasn’t a good idea.
