Jenny: Miscast Spell

The boy's left arm had begun to hurt dully. Confused by Aithne's bristling, he took a step back as she began rattling off at him in another dialect. He held his breath: was she casting a spell over him? His arm began to hurt worse. She finished, and the two stood staring at each other in the dark for a few minutes. The silence crept about them like a dark jungle panther. Surreptitiously he checked to be sure she had not turned him into a lump of rock, or a toad, or a raven's feather. When he was sure she had not cast a spell on him, or that her spell had failed, he said, "Where do you come from that the hounds don't lie down before the sleeping quarters? Are you a barbarian? Do they boil people in pots where you come from? Are there giants?"