Wistrit
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- Okay, as you wish, - was all that remained for Ayren to say.
And she once again drifted off to sleep.
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...The man sat at a table in the bright kitchen of his cozy little house, turning a newly purchased high-caliber pistol in his hands. The weapon gleamed mesmerizingly in the sunlight, and Ayren couldn't take her eyes off it, quietly watching from the hallway.
- Honey, come here, - her father suddenly said, as always aware of her presence nearby.
When Ayren approached him, he held a black polymer sheath in his hands. With a slight effort, her father drew a beautiful combat knife with an engraving of a clenched fist from it.
- An old friend gave it to me today. He's leaving the country, gathered some money, and will be gone tomorrow morning, - White Tiger put the blade back into the sheath and handed it to his daughter. - It's yours now...
You can dream of anything.