5
Jian
Sleep was hard to come by in the barn that night. Jian’s body ached from the fight, and pain wound through him with every breath he took, every cough. He almost hadn’t made it out.
It seemed he was destined to die in flames.
He sat with his knees bent and his back pressed against the door of the stall he’d cleaned out hours before—in what seemed like another life. For the Minglans, there would forever be two parts to their lives. Before they lost everything and after.
Few of their belongings were stored in the barn. Old armor hung along the back wall with a couple of rusted daos and halberds. Horse tack draped over the stall wall, a hook holding it in place. Bales of hay took up half the limited floor space, placed there to keep them out of the elements.
Tilting his head back,
