You must imagine that you’re building a dome over the field of your mind. See it grow and stretch itself above it, but you must concentrate on every corner at once. Once I spot a hole, you’ll be starting again, Silver repeats for like seems the hundredth time that day. I try not to groan in frustration.
I know what I’m supposed to do, it’s not my fault that there always seems to be a weak point in the shield, I respond. Although, it technically is my fault. My snarky remark is enough for the current attempt to fall through, an enormous tear appearing in my growing shield.
Start over, my bonded demands in a disappointed tone. I try not to fume back at him and control my temper. I can’t protect my mind if I’m not focused enough. And anger is the killer of concentration, like Silver h
