She threw dusty stuff over her shoulders while I shifted from foot to foot.
“I’m not sure you should –“
“– Got it!” She pulled a spear-like thingamajig that unfolded as it exited the enchanted chest.
The banging on the door shook the walls.
“How do you know it’ll –“
“– A little hope and a smidgen of faith,” she said. Father’s phrase.
A Tac’rin burst through the door. My sister fired. The thingamajig sputtered helplessly. She spun and slammed it on the Tac’rin’s head. He went down, stunned.
“They don’t make it as sturdy anymore,” she smiled and charged.
This is a drabble for today’s prompt!