Page 30 of The Wild Zone

“Take your time,” he said.

Why did he have to be so nice? He reminded me of Grant, which made me sad all over again. I steadied my breathing, trying to decide how much to share.

“It’s just…I only got here yesterday. And it was kind of a rough journey.”

Beckendorf didn’t ask for details, but he seemed to get the general idea. I suspected he’d heard many a tragic tale from newly arrived campers.

“I’m so sorry, Katie,” he said. “A lot of us here can relate.”

“Grant and Silas, my satyr—they got me through. But now Grant is gone, and…”

“You’re feeling vulnerable,” he guessed. “You want the biggest weapon you can get.”

He didn’t say it with any judgment. He was just trying to understand.

“Everyone always underestimates me,” I said. “I want to prove them wrong.”

Beckendorf grunted. “I get that.”

I didn’t see how anyone could underestimate Beckendorf—the dude was huge. But he sounded sincere.

He flexed his fingers, like he was imagining what tool he should pick up next. “I didn’t mean to pry, Katie. It’s just that the scythe…it’s not a popular weapon here. It’s a symbol of the Titans…of Kronos.”

The fires seemed to gutter in the furnaces when he said that name. I shivered, sipping from my canteen.

Beckendorf must have read my desolate expression. “Hey, you want a scythe, I’ll help you forge the blade.”

I wiped my nose with the handkerchief before remembering that it wasn’t mine. “Really? Could it be Celestial bronze?”

“That’s a pretty rare ore. Hard to work with. But we can try.”

“I don’t mind a challenge.”

“All right, then.” He rubbed his palms together. “Let’s figure out some more precise dimensions.”

“You mean ‘one Beckendorf’ isn’t a good unit of measurement?” I asked.

Beckendorf smirked and pulled a tape measure from his tool belt. “You joke, but the ancient Greeks did use to measure things by the lengths of their hands and feet.” He pointed to his finger. “Daktylos.” He pointed to his hand. “Palaiste.” He wiggled his booted foot. “Pous.”

I knew all that, because I knew ancient Greek, but I gave him a wide-eyed look of wonder. “Everyone’s hands and feet are different lengths, though.”

He extended the tape measure. “That’s why I said use to.”

With Beckendorf’s help, I worked out measurements for my scythe.

“Okay!” he said. “Next time, we can start your first round of smelting.”

“Next time?” I repeated.

Then I looked around and realized all the other campers had packed up their stuff. I’d monopolized Beckendorf right until the end of class.

“But…how long is this going to take?” I asked, at the risk of sounding ungrateful.

Beckendorf shrugged. “A couple weeks, maybe? We’re melting metal and then reshaping it with a hammer over and over to create the perfect blade. It’s a process.”

I chewed my lip but nodded. “All right.”

“If you want to start practicing with the weapon, there might be an old scythe in the armory.”