We find our Path to the Light (For Dawn Johnson)
Dawn looked down at the corpses of the... things... she had just killed. She thought such horrors were confined to adult cartoons. Yet there they were, bleeding black, not red.
The sword. The sword had come from nowhere. The sword had fit into her hand as if she'd been born to wield it. She'd certainly known how to use it as if she'd been trained all her life. Lancelot would have done better, of course. Still, she thought the Round Table would have been proud of her this day.
The thought of chivalry reminded her to look for the other children. Yes, they were all safely gone. She thanked God for that.
Once again, she looked at the sword, cleaning it off.
"Are you Excalibur?"