A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind)

Bending slightly my father calmly wiped off the blade of the sword on the cat's fur. Straightening up from his task he turned towards me and contemplated me quietly as he put his sword away.

"Are you all right son?"

My mouth to dry to talk I had nodded yes.

Coming up alongside of me he had put his big hand on my shoulder, a gesture which offered me reassurance that everything was okay.

"Let's not say anything about this to your mother okay son."

"Yes, Father!" I responded emphatically relieved.

We headed for home walking side by side.

"Father can you teach me how to use a sword like that?"

His big hand resting on my shoulder had squeezed hesitantly and then after a long moment he had said, "We'll start in the morning."

I never looked at my father in the same way again after that experience. He was more than just a father that cared for my needs, now he was both that and also a force to be reckoned with. He was dangerous. I had wanted to be dangerous like him.

Coming out of my reflections of the past I eased Flin towards a small brook up ahead of us that ran along the base of an upthrust of rock. It was dark in the shadow of the cliff that I had chosen to make my camp under, which was good because it would obscure my plans from any prying eyes.

I would never make a camp in a spot like this normally and I was hoping that whoever was stalking me did not know me well. My reasons for not liking the camping spot would have been quite obvious to an experienced traveler. I had been on the run from the authorities for years and I'd picked up some tips of what not to do during that time.

Building a campfire against a cliff face can reflect the light of the fire for miles around, even with a small fire. I had also learned the hard way in the past never to camp near water, because both beast and man alike were bound to go near it for necessity's sake. Quickly under cover of darkness I gathered a large pile of dry wood from a nearby deadfall tree. I dug a shallow pit for a fire, only much larger in circumference than I typically would. I hurried down to the stream with my saddle bags, which I filled up with large round river stones. The river stones were ice cold from the cold snow melt water coming down from the mountains. I made a hot rolling fire. A fire that was much bigger than was needed and would be reflected off the cliff behind me for miles around.