" Trenton’s disgusted look answered that question even as Wilhelm shook his head and said, “They’ll be almost as useless as the sword. With something that big, it probably won’t even notice unless we hit an eye.”
Which most likely still wouldn’t kill it.
The same with any attacks on the body. At most, they’d be a minor nuisance.
“That leaves one option,” Shea said in a resigned voice.
“You have a plan, then?” Witt asked, keeping an eye on their surroundings.
“Yup, but I don’t think any of you are going to like it.” Shea’s expression turned sour. If she was being honest, she didn’t like her plan either.
Trenton stared at her for several beats before he shook his head. “No, that’s crazy.”
“It’s the best option we’ve got
,” Fallon agreed, his mind already following where hers had gone.
Surprise and understanding dawned on Wilhelm and Witt’s faces as they realized what she was thinking.
“I feel like your plans get worse and worse the longer I know you—like gone ‘round the bend crazy worse,” Trenton said. To Fallon, he said, “At least tell me we’re not letting her do the honors.”
Fallon’s eyes were dark as he stared at Shea. It was obvious he wanted to order her to abandon their group and head to the Keep by herself, even at the expense of his own safety. It was just as obvious she would refuse.
“No, we’re not,” he agreed with Trenton. “One of us will do it.”
“I didn’t expect anything else.” Shea gave Fallon a half smile. “I could never make that throw. That’s why Wilhelm will do it.”
Wilhelm lifted an eyebrow. “I will?”
“Wait a minute. Why not me?” Trenton asked in outrage.
Shea ignored him to answer Wilhelm’s question. “I’m not skilled enough with a spear. Same for Witt, and the doubter over there is still recovering from cracked ribs and internal bleeding. And if we let Fallon do it, I’m pretty sure Caden would murder us all once he found out about it. That leaves you.”
“Hey!” Trenton protested.
Fallon looked like he wanted to argue, but he must have seen her point. Of the five of them, Wilhelm was the one with the best marksmanship. Beyond all of the other reasons, that was the one that counted the most and Fallon knew it.
Wilhelm stared off into the mist with a considering expression before looking sideways at Shea, his face serious and intent. “We’ll only get one chance at this.”
“Guess you’d better make the shot count, then,” she told him.
“Incoming,” Witt murmured. "
― T.A. White , Wayfarer's Keep (The Broken Lands, #3)