When Mark's letter arrived, Eric was in the stone courtyard behind the Blackwood manor.
Eric stood shirtless despite the cold, skin slick with sweat, muscles drawn tight. His dark hair clung damply to his forehead, jaw shadowed with stubble from a night without sleep. He had not closed his eyes since the previous evening.
"Down!" he barked.
Willie dropped, palms slamming against stone. The boy's arms trembled violently now, sweat dripping from his chin and spotting the courtyard.
"Push," Eric ordered.
Willie strained upward, teeth gritted so hard his jaw shook.
"Don't stop. Keep going!" he snapped.
Willie's elbows buckled, then locked again through sheer will.
Cyril entered through the archway. He carried a sealed envelope between two fingers.
He caught the glare Willie shot at the back of Eric's head and chuckled.
"How hard are you going to drive the boy?" Cyril asked mildly.
"I'm going easy on him."
Willie made a groan.
