The rickety table wobbled gruesomely. Xan hurried to secure it, nearly smacking Lonan across the face with the family sword sheathe.
“Sorry.” Xan maneuvered his back to the wall. “Not used to it.”
In the pale wash of the cracked window, his clipped hair shone almost white. He’d changed since he and Lonan had been bathed together and scolded together—he was built like a swordswoman’s son now. His mother’s spitting image. Lonan was still built like a hyena, and his braiding was woven with broken seashells. At least people no longer mistook them for brothers.
–Elyan White, “Lost and Found”
The first of the Nanowrimo lost days! The others will be in pairs, unless something needs posting priority.