Fireside Reflection

A Story by Golden Star

A practice run working with a new character idea----

I was running, I knew in my heart that is what I was doing regardless of what I wanted to call it. Fear, rage and disbelief seeped from every pour as I packed, my hands shaking as the tears dried on my cheeks. I tried to explain to my self that I was leaving to do better, have better but I knew that my time was running out faster then the ticking of the hands on the clock beside my bed. I was dying and I didn't want to be--

What I was and all that I could hope to be was being crushed by the weight of who I was expected to be. I would soon be labeled a failure for going yet I knew I would surly fail if I stayed. My whole life, my role was to protect and now in choosing to protect myself, I was in fact choosing to no longer be the buffer for the others....The Others...My kin...the ones I had sworn above all else to stand between the Them and Us ....and now I must leave in hopes that they will find their own path for I no longer have the power to keep the tide from taking what is left.

Now dont get me wrong, guilt is nothing new for me. It seems to have been a corner stone of many of my short years. Worry wrapped in as much action as I could provide in the mist of a seemingly constant flow of chaos. Little ones to care for as They blew the walls from our home providing nothing but layers of confusion laced with memories of peace long past. Yet the taste of my choice was bitter as I reached for the window sill for the last time. I would not be taken, I would not die. But I would be taking my shame with me as tangible as a stone in my pack when I slipped into the night.

I am a fighter. A pretty good one I think. Yet I know my youth and fear my lacks as they have been pointed out time and again. The thing is, I escaped...Now what?

The woods were dark as he scanned for a glimpse of the horizon. The moon was full and the light reflected off the trees in ghostly forms. Catching sight of the sky he orientated himself to the stars and headed North for that was as good of a direction as any. After many days of travel and what seemed like many more nights full of remorse he began to hear the sounds of horses, the crunching of wagons and feet...marching feet.

After cresting a particularly hard knoll he saw a long line of soldiers with their support wagons rumbling on the trail behind them. Their flags were held high and their heads even higher. He saw pride in their eyes even as he recognized the weariness of their bodies. These were warriors...He could feel the pull of them even as he took his first steps in time with their march.

He shadowed them for a while thinking that when they broke to make camp he could slipped in to a nearby cooking fire with hopes of finding some scraps for a much needed meal. Just as he was lifting a discarded heal to his mouth a voice rang out, "hey you, what Camp are you from?" Freezing he readied to fight if need be and run if he could.

Turning with a lie on my tongue, I saw an old man brandishing a spoon and a pot as if they were a sword and shield. Much to my surprise I found that I could not lie but instead blurted, "I am hungry and was hoping to find some scraps enough to stop the ache in my belly by your fire." " I have no place here for I am just traveling till one speaks to me."

With that, the old man smiled and said "then lets get you a proper meal and maybe spin a yarn or two as long as we both have some company. It gets a bit lonely here in the back of the lines and I dont get many youth willing to spend time with an old man." A trade it seemed but at least he wasn't going to raise the alarm, time in exchange for food....I could do that.