Finn Finnegan by Darby Karchut

side.
    Finn whirled around. “You did that on purpose!”
    â€œWhy, ‘tis certain. Do ye think an Amandán is going to meekly stand there, eager to take a blade in the chest?” Gideon let go of the rope and flexed his hands. “Go fetch yer weapon.”
    â€œScrew this crap,” Finn muttered under his breath. He stomped over to the picnic table near the back door and sank down on the bench. Bending forward, he stretched out his shirt and wiped his sweaty face. He jumped when a shadow fell across him. Without warning, a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back on his feet.
    Dragging Finn by the back of his tee shirt, Gideon stalked across the yard to the fence, the boy’s feet scarcely touching the ground. “Ye’ve a choice, Finnegan MacCullen. Climb over that wall and retrieve yer weapon. Or else.”
    â€œOr else what?” Finn struggled to free himself from Gideon’s iron grip.
    â€œOr else I pitch ye over. Head over arse.”
    Finn froze and stared up at his master’s face.
    Gideon narrowed his eyes.
    â€œI-I think I’ll go get that knife now.”
    â€œYe’ve a strong sense of self-preservation.” Gideon let go and nodded toward the wall.
    Finn turned and jogged away, bypassing the wooden gate off to one side. He hoisted himself up, swung his legs over, and hopped down. Beyond the wall, the ground sloped away. It dropped into a wide ravine filled with thick underbrush and the occasional pine. He half-walked, half-slid down to the bottom.
    Working his way through thick patches of scrub oak, he searched back and forth across the ravine. Where’s the stupid knife? he thought as he pawed through last year’s leaves, wondering if Gideon really would have thrown him over the wall. Yup, he would have , he finally decided. Crunching his way toward the other side of the gully, he began climbing the far side. He passed a lichen-covered boulder halfway up the slope.
    The boulder twitched.
    Lifting its head and unfolding from a crouch, the Amandán grinned. “ Poc sidhe ” it hissed, lunging at Finn, black-tipped fingers scrabbling for his face.

    Gideon frowned as he watched Finn disappear over the wall. Ye gods , he thought, I hope we don’t butt heads his entire apprenticeship. The boy certainly has a short fuse . He listened to the sounds of Finn searching for the knife. Just like another fiery apprentice I could name —Gideon chose to ignore the voice of his old master.
    I must find a way to help Finnegan deal with that temper of his. Help him channel that energy into something more—
    He stiffened at the sudden harsh caw and looked up.
    The crow blasted past the Knight’s head. Its yellow claws skimmed the wall before it dipped out of sight into the trees beyond.
    â€œFinnegan!” Gideon bolted toward the wall. Chanting under his breath, he vaulted over the top stones, clearing them by a foot.

    With a yelp, Finn flung himself backwards as the Amandán attacked. He found himself tumbling back down the slope, arms flailing as he tried to control his fall. Branches clawed at him, leaving burning scratches along his back and stomach where his tee shirt pulled up. The ground and sky exchanged places in slow motion.
    Finn crashed to a halt at the bottom of the ravine, cracking his skull on a fallen log. For a moment, he lay breathless, the ground spinning as white-hot pain tore through his head. Stars flickered at the edge of his sight.
    Feeling the vibration of massive feet thundering toward him, he rolled over with a groan, his eyes watering with pain. Struggling to rise, his fingers brushed against something cool and smooth and hard under a layer of leaves.
    The knife.
    Finn fumbled for the weapon. Lurching to his feet, he swayed, then braced himself for the assault. Bile burned his throat. He swallowed as the Amandán charged down the hill toward him. Branches snapped beneath its feet like broken bones. It ran