Needle toss

“How about it, D? Can you cut us down?” Geslin’s right hand moved,
and white lightning brushed D’s cheek. Raindrops spattered the running
blood. “You can’t cut us with that sword of yours. But we can stick you
with our stakes.” Wedges of wood glistened in the bloodied hands of the dead.

The needles of plain wood flying from D’s right hand passed through
the bodies of the dead and stuck in the barn wall behind them. Geslin
chortled. “What do you make of that, D? Is this the best you can do? Just
try it. Can’t you cut us down?”

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