The tavern door creaked open as Thory and Fen stepped out into the bright, fresh morning air of New Bark City. The streets bustled with merchants setting up stalls, horses pulling carts, and people shouting across streets.
Thory stretched, yawning and cracking her knuckles. "Ahhh, nothing like surviving a Valkyrie, crashing a bar brawl, and waking up in a new city."
Fen walked beside her, still quiet. His thoughts lingered on Littleroot, on his mother, on the prophecy… but mostly, on what came next.
Thory nudged him. "Hey. You'll turn gray if you keep thinking that hard. Let's do something fun."
Fen raised an eyebrow. "Fun?"
Thory grinned, pointing toward the town square. A large, bald man with a beard like a bramble bush and a grin wide enough to scare a troll was sitting behind a thick wooden table. He looked like a bear who had learned to smile and arm-wrestle.
Beside him stood a loud announcer yelling into the crowd.
"COME ONE, COME ALL! WHO HAS THE STRENGTH TO DEFEAT THE BEAR OF NEW BARK? THE UNDEFEATED! THE UNMOVABLE! THE UN… BATHED!"
The big man just waved cheerfully with one hand, his bald head shining in the sun.
The announcer continued, "Big prize! Huge prize! Beat him in arm wrestling and earn silver enough to feed a village! He's a descendant of Thor—and he's never been beaten!"
Thory's eyes lit up. "Money. You hear that, wolf boy? We need money."
She raised her hand. "ME!"
The announcer blinked. "You?"
The big man's smile didn't change.
A few folks paused. A few more turned. Then the crowd grew, curious murmurs bubbling like stew.
"Is that a girl?"
"She's brave…"
"Or drunk."
The announcer laughed. "Alright, alright! We've got a challenger! What's your name, warrior?"
"Thory," she said, strolling into the circle.
The crowd gave a small cheer.
Fen stood at the back and cupped his hands. "Go, Thory! Show that smiling boulder what real strength looks like!"
The announcer clapped. "Player ready?"
Thory cracked her neck. "Ready."
The smiling bearded man grunted once and placed his thick tree trunk of an arm on the table.
Thory met him, hand to hand, grin to grin.
"BEGIN!"
At once, the table shook.
Muscles bulged. Thory's arm trembled. The bear-man's grin got bigger. His beard wiggled.
They both groaned—him with effort, her with focus.
A child in the crowd shouted, "The table's gonna EXPLODE!"
Thory shouted through gritted teeth, "This guy's got the arm of a mountain goat!"
The bear-man replied cheerfully, "I churn butter with my biceps!"
The table let out one last crackkkk—
BAM!
Thory slammed the man's hand down so hard the entire table split in two, falling in opposite directions with a wooden clatter.
"YEAHHHHH!" the crowd erupted, clapping, whistling, throwing hats.
…Thory stood tall, still gripping the large man's hand slammed down through the broken remains of the wooden table. The crowd roared with cheers and laughter as the man—beaten and teary-eyed—rolled to the ground, groaning and clutching his wrist.
He winced, lying on his back in disbelief, still smiling through the pain.
Thory looked down at him with a half-smirk. "You're not a descendant of the mighty Thor after all."
The crowd gasped and laughed harder. Some clapped, some whistled. A few chanted Thory's name.
The announcer scowled, clearly annoyed, and shoved the coin pouch into Thory's hands.
"There's your prize. Now get lost."
Thory grinned, tossing the bag up once and catching it with a loud jingle. "Pleasure doing business."
She turned to Fen, who was grinning proudly at the edge of the crowd. "Let's go, wolf pup. 'm starving. You down for some food?"