After some time, she found something suitable—a deteriorated wooden plank with dents. It was long and thin enough to grip by the palm; it lay hidden in a bush. She eagerly picked it up, flipped it around, and bounced it in her hands. She mimicked a batter’s swing, tested it, and swayed it around.
“Ok, this is something,” Jioni said in a whisper, “Though the nunchucks would’ve been better.”
