Updated 8/17/24

Chapter 3

Jonathan

Jonathan spent five years training at the Knights’ School, and as of now, an additional twelve years in service as a Knight of J’shua. As was the custom of the Knights of J’shua, he should have returned home for good by now, started a circle with his family, and established a community. But his wife and daughter were still missing. His home had been burned to ash. Did he even have a home without them? These thoughts and many others plagued his mind as he reached the halfway point, the Tarin Inn, after many days of travel. Perhaps this would be a good place to stop for the night.

The hearty stew over the fireplace coals bubbled and steamed with a tempting aroma. He was hopeful that a good meal would warm his soul and distract him from his restless thoughts.

All conversation stopped.

He thought he might lose his stomach right there.

The back of his neck prickled.

His eyes darted around the room analyzing threats.

Once those that stared had looked him over, they slowly turned away and the talking ramped back up. The murmur of a dozen conversations that continued, set him at ease.

It was just his blasted light hair. At thirty years old, he guessed it would more likely turn white before it ever darkened. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the attention his hair attracted.

He walked to a table near the back with an uneven stride, biting the inside of his cheek, and sat. It gave him a good vantage of the front door. A back door only strides away, in case he needed a quick escape. He carefully took stock of his belongings. Then he slowly unstrung his bow. He scanned the room again as he pushed it into his pack. Carefully setting it behind his chair.

He had been in Esthlanis far longer than he’d intended. Even though the daikon of the Esthlanis Knights’ School was resistant to his suggestions, he felt called to stay. However, now, it was time to return.

His heart rate slowed, but he continued to scan the room, discreetly.

“Hallo, traveler, yah wish to eat somethin? Or drink?” A cute girl, perhaps ten years old, pushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear, smiling.

She reminded him of Sarah. A pang of regret flickered across his face, but he hid it with a smile and a wink.

“Yes, please, that stew smells wonderful. An ale too.”

“Yes sir, two baden for the stew and one baden for a pitcher of ale. It’s only another two baden for a pigeon if ya like?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

Jonathan rummaged in a pouch, and pulled out an Esthlani duhrn. The gold coin was thin and small with a hole in the center. It was worth five baden. A mohrn looked just like it except it was bigger and thicker, with two stallions engraved upon it. He’d only seen one like it once.

“I’ll have the pigeon as well if this will do?”

Her eyes went wide. “Yes, sir, my da prefers them.”

He tossed her the coin.

As he relaxed, enjoying the warm fire crackling pleasantly, a quiet argument caught his ear.

“I tell you the Knights are finished. Their school in the south burned to the ground.” An old man drawing on a pipe, puffed out each word.

Another waved the smoke away and said, “I heard they all died in their sleep.”

“I thought they were wiser than everyone,” a third added.

Jonathan, alerted to the words as if they punched him in the gut. Standing, he approached the men clutching the back of an empty chair. “Tell me all you know about the fire. My son might be there.”

The men tried to reassure him it was likely just a rumor, that he’d find his son was safe.

But Jonathan didn’t feel any reassurance. His face mirrored his anguished thoughts, as they stared at him in awkward silence.

The room seemed darker now.

The fire felt hotter.

“We’re sorry. It’s naught but a rumor,” one said uncomfortably, but Jonathan was still gripping the chair in disbelief, when they hurriedly took their leave.

Unsure of how much time had passed before he came to his senses, he went to pay for the room, gathered his belongings, and left the now cold meal waiting at his table untouched. When he found his bed, he laid on the straw tick pallet, tossing and turning, sleeping only a few hours when his exhaustion finally overcame his anxious thoughts. Finding no comfort in prayer, he left in the early dawn, making headway for the school.

***

Two days later, as the sun sank into the horizon, Jonathan’s heart lifted. Despite the anxious rumors echoing through his mind, he saw the signs that told him he’d be at the school soon. Spurring his horse, he broke out of the woods—

He pulled his horse up short. His hands, cold and clammy, touched his face as his head swam. His gut clenched. If there was any sound left in the world, he could not hear it, not while the image of the burnt ruins of his home and the corpses of his family surged over him again.

The school’s chimney and a few teetering upright timbers were all that remained.

He plodded past grave markers. Tributes left by loved ones littered the ground.

Did anyone survive?

He dismounted and fell to his knees.

His fists dredged his face.

Thoughts raced to comprehend the dreadful scene.

His forehead creased in worry as he thought of his son, the boys, their teachers, and his own destroyed home.

What can be done to end such evil?

It was hopeless.

David.

He’d last seen him at the Agon Gorum’s horse farm, after the trail of his wife and daughter had gone cold. David was only nine. So brave. The boy wanted to leave, right then, to find his mother and sister. Perhaps that would have been better—

Argh. Now, I regret leaving him. It seems impossible to choose the right path. If I had taken him along, would he be alive?

He hung his head, praying.

Forgive me Father. Tell me David is alive. Show me what to do.

A blue jay screeched overhead.

He looked up.

Amidst his tumultuous thoughts he heard the words Bowing Sister. They pierced through his icy heart, and he felt a peace that transcended understanding.

He ran to his horse. Clutching the reins, he pulled her head away from the grass and mounted. Despite the failing light, he galloped through the moon-dappled trail toward the mountain. He stopped only when the trees became too thick for any light to penetrate.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

It was unsafe to proceed further. The terrain of Easy Slope changed each rainy season. A rockslide to his left hinted at that.  After the rains, fifth years and knights would have remapped the area. He scanned for new crevasses, but he would never see these chasms in the dark. There was no other choice, but to stop and wait for dawn.

After tending to his horse, he tried to eat, but he had no appetite. He attempted to sleep, but managed only snatches between worry and thoughts that denied him rest, so he prayed while he waited for the light of day.

***

At first light, he left his horse to graze, while he ran toward the Kneeling Queen’s Skirt, a wide ledge at the base of the Watchers, a formation of dozens of vertical stones huddled close together that seemed to guard the mountain. From this view, he could see the thin black line in the distance formed by their shadows.

Sprinting across Easy Slope, the sun rose from behind the hills of Tarinland in the east, blanketing the grey mountain in red. He veered west of God’s Thumb, a huge boulder, said to be all that was left of a giant, a Nephilim, who ruled this land in times long gone. Like a fist gesturing his success over a bloody battlefield, it marked the end of Easy Slope.

From here the trail was rougher.

The terrain grew steeper.

The rocks were sharper.

Still, he rushed, pulling hard on every handhold to keep his pace. He had to know if David survived. If anyone survived. Bowing Sister lay ahead, beyond another ridge, and at midday, he crested the last ridge.

Coming out of shadow into the bright sunlight, he squinted at the silhouette of a man. His hair flounced around his head like dandelion fuzz.

Is that Daikon Crispus?

“Jonathan!” The old man threw his arms wide, waiting at the end of the path.

A dozen students rushed into view behind the old man.

Seeing his teacher before him, Jonathan sighed. He bowed, “Is-is David here? Is he— alright?”

“David has not arrived yet.” Crispus squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder.

Jonathan let out a sigh. “What happened? How many were harmed?”

The daikon’s brows furrowed as he told the story, while they walked up the path.

Am I the cause of this? Did my taunting Greysun bring what followed?

Jonathan remembered the knights he knew amongst the dead. Vale, Fant, Kotchy, the cook who was cranky, but always gave him goodly portions, and more whenever he asked.

“I am so sorry, Daikon Crispus. I may have caused this terrible slaughter.” He balled his fists. “I taunted Commandant Greysun when I encountered him. He was already angry that he could not arrest me because of the King’s pass I carried, but I rubbed it in his face.”

Jonathan turned his wet eyes on Crispus. “It was impulsive. It was wrong. I am so sorry. I-I—”

Daikon Crispus guided him to a cave behind one of the Watcher’s.

Jonathan ducked his head as he followed, placing his hand against the rock face. The familiar stone of the mountain felt cool under his rough hand. The hidden opening expanded into a warm room. A small fire near the opening produced almost no smoke yet kept the dampness out of the room. Three crude stools sat beside the fire. Behind them, a pallet of dried grass and herbs lay against the cave wall.

“Sit, dear boy, sit.” The daikon stood over him.

Jonathan sat, slumped, wringing his hands, hoping for the chastisement he deserved, and the punishment that would absolve himself.

Instead, the old man placed his warm hand on his head. “Dear boy, nothing we do can make another do anything they don’t want to do. Selfish desires are in us all. You had no way to know that the Serpent would use him this way.”

Daikon Crispus patted his head as if he were eleven years old again.

Jonathan’s chest shuddered as he sucked in a breath.

His old master continued, “It’s been many moons since that atrocity. We have mourned, but we have the hope of J’shua. Many others have no hope.”

Crispus sighed. “We’ve encountered Greysun before. No, son, you did not cause this. He has been a boiling pot for a long time. This has made us even more determined to train young knights to do the Father’s will and follow J’shua.”

The stool creaked as the old man sat down. “Now, tell me what else has happened to you.”

Jonathan let out a long, relieved breath and began to tell him his tale of woes. “Two years ago, while I was away, soldiers came to the farm demanding Rebekah’s father pay his loan in full or give up his daughter and granddaughter in lieu of payment. I imagine Rebekah and Sarah ran and hid as I had taught them. Rebekah escaped, I heard she stole a horse. You know she would only do that if she had to pursue someone.” He sighed. “I believe they took Sarah.”

He looked down, running his hands through his hair. “I cannot find them. The Father and J’shua have not told me where they are.” He held his breath to hold back tears, “I fear they are—dead.”

He groaned. “But I can’t accept that. Rebekah must be hiding somewhere. She must be looking for Sarah as well.”

Crispus squeezed his shoulder. “Your wife was here.”

Jonathan’s head jerked up. He inhaled a raspy breath.

“She looked well.”

The daikon’s kind smile made him break, tears streamed down his cheeks in relief.

“And what of Sarah?” he asked, daring to hope.

“She’s not found her but she’s learned your daughter did escape her captors. Rebekah believes she’s safe. Until J’shua reveals it, trust she’s in his care.”

Jonathan nodded, feeling a hint of relief, but not enough to stifle his groan or the pain in his chest. He gritted his teeth.

I have to do something. I have to find them.

“Where is Rebekah? I will go to her.”

Crispus gripped Jonathan’s shoulder. “That would be unwise. You must remember, her quest is no less important than yours, but—” He stepped aside to rummage through a leather bag. Returning, the old man said, “She left a message for you.”

The daikon handed over the parchment, and Jonathan was quick to open it.

Jonathan, My Heart,

The world conspires to keep us apart, yet my spirit soars with the hope of our reunion. It is why I look for your whereabouts constantly, just as much as I continue to search for our Sarah. She is as brave as her father, and I know in my spirit she is well. As I journey, every step I take is a prayer for each of us.         

Know too that our Lord J’shua has given me a mission. This means I am closer than you think, working in the shadows to protect our family and our country. But it’s why I cannot come to you directly. I fear I would refuse to be parted from you again, regardless of my calling.

Please do not try to find me. Please understand that my role is crucial. Many others will be in danger, if I’m found, so I cannot risk meeting you, though I wish it with all my heart. Also, I know you are hunted as well, and we both know that if those who look for you caught me, they would use me to coerce you. This I cannot allow.

Be safe, my love. We will be together again, and I look for that day to come soon. Fear not. We are bound not only by our love, but our faith. I know this because I know you are holding fast to the Faith and doing as J’shua directs as am I, and J’shua will see us through these dark times. The way is clear when it is needed.

Stay strong, my knight. My love for you is undying.

Yours Forever,

Rebekah

Although relieved to know she was well, at least at the time of this writing, he feared he’d never find her. Pressing her letter to his chest, he prayed. The God of Truth alone knew how to end the evil that kept them apart. All he knew was to follow J’shua.

Jonathan wiped tears from his eyes and placed the letter under the lining of his pack near the bottom.

A long night of fellowship soothed his battered soul. He pulled his cloak tighter around him against the cool breezes as they all sang the old psalms, each note a healing balm. Many prayed for family, friends, and the nobles who led the country. Jonathan prayed for the king.

He knew the king. When Jonathan was six, he’d lived under the King’s care and was made companion to his six-year-old son, Prince Sagen.

He is a good man and so is Sagen, my friend.

The young student knights and old teachers listened in silence as he confessed his encounter with Commandant Greysun. Acceptance and the comfortable familiarity of those around the fire warmed him. Many embraced him and gave him good wishes.

As he gazed around the circle, he saw no judgment, only sorrow—the same sadness he felt at the loss of men and boys at the school. This pain they shared was a bond between them.

When the fire burned down to glowing coals and they all had drifted off to bed, he retreated to a small cave he had outfitted years ago. Prayers, long into the night, gave way to sleep.

***

The following morning, after thanking each of them for soothing his soul, Jonathan gave Crispus a letter for Rebekah, should he see her again.

Returning to his horse, he rode down into the foothills, guided by the small still voice telling him to go westward toward Mestelina. The sun warmed him. He felt at peace. Yes, buildings had been destroyed and good men died, but it was a grave error by the Serpent, which the God of Truth would turn into a beacon.

He had news of Rebekah. They would be stronger together. He vowed he would find her. He would continue to search for her and Sarah.

Chapter 4

David

They headed south to the Shining Mountains.

Three days later, the escort left them with a grunt, heading back north. He and his mother crossed the Tarin River just south of the inn.

“Aren’t we going to stay at the Tarin Inn?” He asked her as he wrung the water from the bottom of his cloak and went about checking the rest of the items in his pack.

“No, inns offer comfort, but they often harbor danger. I prefer to avoid them.” Her lip twitched as she teased, “Why, are you already missing your high station at the horse farm?”

David laughed. “I will miss it to be sure. And the brothers. And the horses I raised from weak-legged foals.” Everything appearing dry, he began to repack his things. “But no, Ma. As I said I’m ready to move ahead, to be a knight, like Da.”

His ma nodded, but didn’t smile.

He almost asked her what was wrong. But did not. Da was being hunted, even though he’d done no harm. His little sister, Sarah, was missing and she was innocent. So, everything was wrong in the world.

Mounting back up, they carried on with their journey. After midday they turned to the west, then headed off the beaten path into dense trees. Pushing through the thick forest despite there being a respectable road for use, David asked, “Are we hiding from someone?”

“I am uncomfortable traveling in Freislicht. Soon we’ll be at a familiar place and I can change.”

“Change?”

“Be patient.” Her focus remained on finding a faint pathway through the woods. A pathway that grew narrower, as the forest became thicker and gloomier.

At first, he could not see it at all.

“Tell me of the horses you’ve raised,” she said.

With great animation, he described every horse he’d seen born or trained over his whole apprenticeship. Ma interjected sounds of approval and asked occasional questions as the journey continued.

Just before dark, Ma stopped with a finger to her lips.

They waited, still. Not moving a muscle.

Then, she let out a loud breath. “It seems safe.”

As she urged her horse forward, Dave asked again, “Where are we going?

“We must go to the place I hid after the attack.”

A few moments later, Ma dismounted and took a pack from her horse. “Start a fire, David. You’ll find the wood you need between those oaks.”

He set to the task as she disappeared into the trees, By the time he heard her again, he was feeding a small blaze.

He gasped as she walked past, his mouth agape. “Ma!”

“How do I look?” she asked.

“You-you look like … a man!” He reached out and touched her beard. “It even feels real.”

“Thank you. It’s made of my own hair. Some friends tie each hair, curl them, and then trim them. It takes many days to finish one.”

“But why …?” He frowned.

“It’s the easiest way to hide in plain sight, son.”

He watched, still not sure what to make of her appearance as she paraded by him, and back.

“The act must be flawless,” she said. “Your father is being hunted; a hefty price is on his head.”

“I know, but—”

“Those pursuing him would use me against him should they find me, coercing him to give himself up. So, I disguise myself. I’ve become so good at playing a man that I kept at it. But,” she hesitated, “there are some things you need to know before committing to the Knights. It is not the only path before you.”

 “What do you mean?” He continued to stare at her, struggling to connect the voice to the masculine image before him.

“I’m not just hiding. There is a group I work with. Over the last few years, we’ve built up a network. No one knows how large it is, or the names of everyone involved.”

“What do they want?”

“What we all want, to be free—without persecution from nobles such as the Earl of Lorness.”

David swallowed hard at hearing that name. On the Earl’s orders, the farm was burned, and his grandparents killed.

His ma continued, “What they did was wrong. What they wanted to do was wrong. They would have sold Sarah and me into slavery while unlawfully demanding payment. All while your grandparents had a contract.”

“Yes, but … You’re scaring me. It’s one thing to hide, but to work against—” He frowned, his eyes scrunching almost closed in a grimace.

“Those I work with want all to live without interference,” she said with quiet words, not wanting to alarm him more. “But that requires organization, information, and money. As Tommas Bekh,” she gestured at herself, “I can drink with men, befriend them, and fill in gaps in our knowledge of the enemy. We have learned so much, though there is still more to learn.”

She walked up to him, stroked his hair. A sign his Ma was still there, in the flesh. “You might find you like it. We work with people from all walks of life who seek the same thing. Farmers, traders, soldiers, lesser nobles … Of course, there are the less savory folk like thieves, but they all help us. Some for coin. Some out of hatred—”

“Ma, you can’t risk yourself like this. What would Da say?”

She took his hand. “That I’m heeding J’shua’s call and doing what I can. Not every person serves the God of Truth by wielding a sword or spreading his words. You can if that is your wish, or you could,” her hand squeezed his, “join me.”

David’s eyes never left hers as she spoke, but the words he knew she wanted to hear he couldn’t say.

His Ma sighed, “Our work is slow. We cannot pursue our goals boldly. It requires caution and guile. After all, my role as Tommas is not only a cover. He’s real.”

Has she lost her mind?

His look of confusion did not escape her notice and she continued, “As him, I own enterprises I must keep profitable. I employ more people than you’d believe.”

David gasped. “You own … enterprises?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“But I don’t know anything about running an enterprise.”

“Look, it didn’t start out that way, and it wouldn’t start out that way for you. There are many things you could do for me, posing in roles from clerk to rich merchant.”

“I—” He shook his head. “Why not give it up? Have someone else run them. Find Sarah. She’s still missing.”

“Yes, I know. Do you think I’ve given up on her? Far from it. The contacts I’ve built up give me a greater chance of finding your sister. I cannot let them go. Shall not.”

Regret painted his cheeks and he swallowed the lump in his throat, looking away, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, David. I know your pain, our pain … I will find her, no matter the cost or how long it takes. If that means being Tommas, so be it. If it means working with these people, so be it. But it’s complex beyond imagining. But, bit by bit, there is progress. Well, to give you an idea, aside from a royal minister, I know far more about what is happening in Lorness and High Keep thanks to my connections.”

“That’s…astonishing.”

“It seems I have a gift for this. But, even with the connections we’ve established, we are still piecing things together, still trying to identify the key culprits. I know Earl Gaelib Melazera is one of them. We just can’t prove it, yet.”

“I—I’d never have thought … that is … it’s dangerous.” David looked down, shaking his head.

“What else would you have me do? Pray all day, leaving everything in J’shua’s hands when my own hands are able, my mind clear, and my need to act undeniable. What are my alternatives?”

“I—” David wrung his hands.

“Would you have been happier had I done this spying as a woman? Would you have me act the harlot to—”

David’s face shot up, a look of horror upon it. “You wouldn’t.” His voice collapsed into a whisper. “You couldn’t …”

“No, I couldn’t. However—” Ma’s mouth quirked.

“However, what?”

“As Tommas Bekh, I receive information from the…sometimes the unlikeliest of sources. Men and women seeking to help our cause, despite their misfortunes.”

He still frowned. “That is extraordinary, Ma, I—”

“David, I’m guided by J’shua’s voice. As you will be. Have faith. Now, we must resume our travels. To give you some perspective on what I do, from this point on you are my new apprentice. I’ll teach you as we go. I have stops to make in Fairness Crossing and Lexandria before we go up the mountain. Remember, from now on I am Tommas Bekh, a very successful plow salesman.”

***

They traveled many days, down long winding paths stopping at farms. Some she showed her drawings and talked about a plow, and some she told of Licht Gegen. They stayed a few nights at an inn south of Locke Castle in Lexandria. He’d never traveled since he was a young boy. And then he hadn’t cared where they were. After Sarah was born, they’d stayed with their grandparents. But Da would leave on missions.

When they at last reached Easy Slope, they ground tethered and hobbled their horses before continuing up the mountain on foot.

Each of the distinctive pinnacles that his father had described in his tales of the Shining Mountains came into clear view. First, he recognized the Lone Soldier to the east. It was the tallest pinnacle. As they veered west, they approached the Kiss in the early afternoon. It was made of two rocks that leaned on one another like lovers kissing.

When they arrived there, a dozen student knights trotted up, each wearing a short sword on their hip over plain homespun tunics and breeches.

One lad announced with a confident smirk, “Hallo, Mister Bekh. We saw you approaching and came to meet you.”

“Hallo, hallo, boys. This is David Otual. Make him welcome, would you?”

The knights-in-training looked at David and greeted him warmly, exchanging names in rapid fire.

“Come,” The tallest one said, “Daikon Crispus is about to teach.”

Ma waved them off and went to sit. He didn’t mean to stare, but she must have felt it, as she looked up and gave him a reassuring smile and nod.

That’s when he felt something tug at his sleeve. When David turned again to see, one of the boys was now pulling him along, dragging him into the fray of other students.

Tall trees grasped the rocky soil with fingerlike roots. Air crisp with the scent of pine and the sounds of wildlife surrounded them. He sat with the others on fallen logs pulled into a rough semi-circle. His gaze drifted to those who accompanied him. All their faces shined with rapt attention on one man, who stroked his flowing beard, and spoke in a measured tone.

 “Today, my young scholars, we begin delving into the secrets of the Writings.” His voice carried the weight of experience. His wrinkles demonstrated the mark of years spent studying ancient texts.

This must be Crispus.

Beside him an even older man, nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “Indeed, we shall uncover the wisdom of the prophets.”

And him, Daikon Baxter?

He scanned the crowd. There must have been thirty boys, all clad in simple tunics and rough trousers, listening intently. Some with wide eyes and others in serious contemplation. Older boys and men in the blue-gray garb of knights stood in the back monitoring their charges. This place, far from bustling towns and castles, was where David belonged. Here, in the wilderness, he’d learn the deeper truths of their faith, leading to greater reliance upon the God of Truth.

After speaking of Paul’s understanding of the sacred secret, Crispus expounded on the life of King David, his namesake.

David was intrigued to learn all he could.

“David, young and brave, faced the giant Goliath with nothing but a sling and unwavering faith in the God of Truth,” Crispus recounted, whirling his hand in the air.

Baxter chimed in, “And it was through God’s grace that he became a great king. His meekness earned him the epithet, ‘a man after God’s own heart’…”

The day stretched on, filled with lessons on history, theology, and virtue. Daikon Baxter outlined the history of the knights, from the First Knight’s meeting with King Weisheit almost one hundred and fifty years ago, up until now. Then Daikon Crispus explained the current arguments surrounding popular interpretations of some passages in the Writings. He explored the virtues of good discourse amongst the followers of J’shua.

Crispus looked at each one of them. “There will always be differences of opinion, given we can no longer ask these writers of long ago what they meant.”

[For there must be opinions among you, that those opinions which are approved may be made manifest among you.]

“Always remember, love must rule in our hearts, not pride or perfection.”

[Let love be without dissimulation.]

“This is the only way to walk upright with the God of Truth and His son, J’shua Ha Mashiach.”

The midday meal came and went. Afterwards his ma walked to a ledge above to observe him and his peers complete their practice exercises.

He was thrilled.

Each fifth year was assigned three first year students to instruct in the basics. David followed their assigned leader, Jimmen, to a different area of the foothills. From where he stood, he could see six other groups.

“Step, parry, thrust. Step, parry, thrust—again,” the red-haired young man called to David and his other charges.

David blinked. Oh, right. He turned his attention back to Jimmen, nodding as he followed through with the first exercise, which was about stances and strength.

Along with him, the other boys’ foreheads creased with determination. As they held their swords tight, their master counted the rhythm.

“Rest,” the young man shouted.

Not that it was a long rest. Their next exercise involved Jimmen guiding them over many obstacles as they sprinted to Lone Soldier and back several times. David could imagine his father with his long pale blond hair running along the ledges and leaping over crevasses.

When the sun began its descent toward the horizon, signaling the end of their schooling for the day, the other boys departed for their quarters in caves, chattering about their newfound knowledge and skills.

David, on the other hand, walked to Ma, out of breath, but smiling. “Did you see me? My teacher said I did well. Do you think I did well?”

“I saw. I’m very proud of you. Your father will be proud too.” She squeezed his shoulders, looked him over in a way that made his chest swell, and said, “I know you will do well here. But I must go.” She leaned closer. “I love you, brave boy. I will return next moon.”

It felt so soon, too soon, but David didn’t want to let her down. So, he whispered, “I love you too, Ma.” He wanted to hug her, but could not. It wasn’t his mother, but Tomas Bekh, standing before him. He wouldn’t risk her cover. Only the old daikons knew who she was.

“David!”

Hearing his name being called, he glanced around. A few boys beckoned for him to follow.

He tightened his lips into a stern line as he turned back to his Ma and said, “Thank you, Mister Bekh. Be safe.” He gave her a bow, watched as she returned a nod, and retreated down the hill. Out of sight. Out of his life, again.

“David!” His new companions called again, then he ran to them forcing a grin.