The girl, after eventually releasing the vise-like grip she had on his now heavily bruised wrist, was taken off for her own tending-to and could no longer be seen.
Stroan sat with him, as did others. Some talked to each other, some to him, though he couldn’t hear much. He did hear small pieces, and that was enough to give him hope that he would hear again sometime soon. It seemed the damage might not be irreversible. As his cantankerous old grandfather would say, “Thank Heaven for small miracles boy, because that’s all you’ll ever get.”
Eventually, after eating what he could of some soup and bread, he had a moment to talk to Stroan outside of the ongoing conversations that surrounded them.
“How is she?” he asked. At least, he assumed he did. He could barely make out the sound of his own voice.
Stroan understood at once and gave him a thumbs-up. Johan sighed heavily. He’d done it.
“We lost a cart as well as the folme,” Stroan informed him. His face was close so his lips could be easily read for whatever Johan didn’t hear. “It went over the other side of the road and broke both axles. There was no way to fix it without spare parts, which we don’t have.” Johan understood, and he had the utmost faith in the Inja Army Riders that they salvaged all they could to make the situation less dire. Not a bad outcome. It could have been much worse.
“Nice toss, by the way,” commented Stroan when Johan’s moment of reflection was over. “You’re lucky I grabbed it. Sorry it didn’t hold.”
Johan was now so consumed by the memory of the knife (once again sheathed and resting next to his chest) that he’d forgotten the rope. He looked at his wrist where the burns from the tension were obvious, like red tattoos in his skin.
A smirk. “Nice catch. It saved our lives.” Stroan shook him off. He was a military man. He did what he had to. “No, honestly, thank you. It bought us the time to get a breath and fight longer. I owe you my life.” Stroan still didn’t buy it, but before he could argue, his attention was drawn to movement coming toward them.
The girl. Johan saw her coming to them, the mustached man leading the way with a vigor that made Johan’s body hurt just to watch it. The man’s arms spread wide as he came, a smile on his weathered face from ear to ear.
“I heard you were awake!” he said, just loud enough to be heard. He came to Johan and wrapped his arms around him in a tight, suffocating hug. Johan hurt but allowed it, knowing no amount of complaining in the world would pry this man off. “I owe you so much, sir. My daughter would be lost without you. You are a hero! I thank the Lord Ryu that he brought your path to meet ours.”
Johan said nothing audible, just a sound that might have been “no problem” or something along those lines. It wouldn’t have mattered. The man was now crying so heavily that words were useless. The girl met his eyes as her father continued his fevered hug. She had an intense gaze that held Johan twice as firmly as any grip her father could muster.
After composing himself enough to speak again, he motioned to the girl, her dark brown eyes still gripping Johan effortlessly. “Sir, I am honored to present my daughter, Seraphina. May the King of Dragons forever shine the sun upon you for returning her to me.”
Seraphina. Beautiful.
He bowed as much as he could muster with his still-depleted strength. The bustle of the situation did not excuse proper manners, after all. She closed the gap between them in hurried steps. When she was right next to him, she kissed him softly but passionately and held him tightly, followed by mouthing the words “Thank you”.
The crowd went mad at the action while the purity and emotion poured into him like a warm drink, and when at last she pulled away, his heart almost broke at the loss of the feeling of her. The emotion of the moment was as much positive as the moment he witnessed the fire consume his home was negative: absolute and pure.
She joined her beaming father once more and returned to their cart. Johan stood flabbergasted at the feelings he was bombarded with. He likely would have gone mad if not for at the last moment before he lost sight of her, she looked back past the crowd, met his eyes once more and smiled. The image was so complete and heartwarming that the mental image of his knife driven into solid rock effortlessly, inches from the crack where he had been aiming, melted away like smoke.
For now…
-----------------------
Still these fools persisted. This was why it hated them so much. They were too stupid to know when to quit. Some may call it guile or tenacity, but not this one. All it saw was foolishness.
The rallying of others had gone well. Even the younger ones it had encountered were quick to follow, with no issues or impulsiveness. They too were sick of the intrusions and were willing to follow the elder members of the breed to get this job done.
They had gathered and when the time was right, just after a large group had left (this way the destruction would be seen and the word of it spread to others of their kind), they came down from the high country, and under the direction of the elder named Skerd, they pounced on the town, sparing no one with their fury. Every man, woman, child and animal was destroyed. Ravaged until none remained.
Skerd was not terribly happy it had come to this. It was only by carefully laying out his arguments and each pro and con that
