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round the corner. The boy's face hadn't healed well. His nose had set flat, the nostrils splayed wide. The broken nose made his nickname all the more ironic. "The morning just gets better and better."
    Cullen tossed a stone underarm and caught it by snatching down on it overarm as he walked. On the fifth snap he spun and hurled it away over the rooftops.
    "You up for a game?" Fionn called, side-footing the ball across the street. Cullen flicked it up with the toe of his left foot and held it there, balanced on the flat of his boot for a while before he hoofed it across the street to Núada. He didn't look at Sláine. Not even once.
    "More fun kicking you lot than watching you kick each other," Wide Mouth said, wandering over to join them while they waited for the others. Dian, Niall and Cormac turned up later, Dian still knuckling the sleep from his eyes.
    "Rules," Fionn said. "Straight run, from here to Lugh's Spike, anything goes. The one holding the ball at the top of the Spike is the winner. Ready?" The others nodded. "Good. Happy birthday, lads." And with that he punted the ball high into the sky and started chasing after it.
    Sláine followed the arc of the ball with his gaze, breaking into a gentle run. Their goal was nearly eight miles away through streets and town squares, across fields, hedges, fences and streams, skirting the edge of the forest and then up into the hills to the Spike itself. Fionn had picked a nasty run deliberately. It played to all of their strengths but more importantly it preyed on all of their weaknesses.
    The ball bounced and rolled ahead of them. Cullen whooped as he ran, pumping his arms powerfully. He had put on a burst of speed to make sure he was the first to the ball. As ever, it was all for show. As long as the game was still within Murias he wanted to be seen to be winning, especially today. With the Choosing coming up he wanted it fresh in everyone's minds that he was the best of them.
    Núada took him down hard before he had covered sixty paces clutching the bladder. It was a crunching tackle. The ball went bouncing away towards the ditch where Niall scooped it up and set off like a startled deer.
    Wide Mouth staggered to his feet and cracked a punch off the side of Núada's skull, but Núada laughed and rolled with the blow, coming to his feet five steps out of Cullen's reach. He saluted Wide Mouth and bolted after Niall. Cullen hared off after him.
    The morning was fresh and blustery. It wasn't cold but the bite of the air was nothing short of harsh in his lungs as Sláine swallowed breath after deep breath. Sweat rimed his skin. He felt a hot flare of pain run the length of his left leg from ankle to groin, tearing through the muscle, and pulled up short. He hobbled forwards tentatively, each step drawing a fresh needle-sharp stab of pain as he put his foot down.
    Grinning like an idiot, Niall hoofed the ball over the fast-flowing River Dôn.
    "Oh, you just had to, didn't you?" Dian groaned, throwing himself into the water. The others splashed through the river behind him, fording it at a shallow point. Even so the water splashed up around their chests. The undercurrent was fierce enough to sweep both Cormac and Cullen off their feet and carry them thirty paces down river before they managed to drag themselves out and up the bank on the far side. Niall ran an extra three-quarters of a mile to the rope bridge because he was afraid of being swept away.
    Despite the pain, Sláine kept pace with Dian, near the back while the others fought over the ball with kicks and curses and flying fists. An elbow split the skin above Fionn's right eye. Blood made it impossible for him to see properly but that didn't slow him down. Fionn dragged Núada into the dirt, tackling him from behind. He threw himself forwards, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy's waist and dragging him down. Sláine claimed the loose ball, drop-kicking it over two hundred paces further on down the road. He loped on