He did not want those tiny blades to draw blood again now.

Blade drew his hand free and lifted her onto the bed.

Blade drew his knife and started down the hill, using every bit of cover he could.

Blade hadn't drawn blood, and didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.

Blade, knowing his own plan, had drawn one deep breath.

Blade drew the boy's cap over his face, then ran back across the bridge and out into the road.

Blade drew his knife slowly out from under the pillow and held it ready.

Meera helped them to understand how Blade had drawn it.

He did not flinch, though the sharp blade drew blood.

Blade took two steps forward and drew his own knife, holding it by the point, ready for throwing.