The Dragonfly and The Sword

Part 8: Bears and Moments Part 2

Just over the Hentian border stood a brunette fourteen-year-old boy with his blonde eight-year-old brother. The promise of hiding and seeking within the grapevines provided enough of an incentive for the fourteen-year-old to distract his younger brother for a time.

"Hiding?" the eight-year-old asked.

"No," the older brunette sighed, watching the smoke rising as the smell of sea air and crashing waves overtook his senses. "Too dangerous."

"Why?" The younger boy flicked his fingers against his right leg.

"Because Ma and Da were right."

"Right?" The eight-year-old cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah, bad men burned them."

"Bad men. Bad men."  The younger brother's repetitions transitioned into a hum as his leg flickering increased.

His father had been right not to trust anyone beyond the village. No one came to protect them. They remained alone on this border, watching each field burn to the ground once a month when the elders refused to pay homage to the raiders.

Across the Judian border, he saw more smoke rising. A sign that these men were not choosing victims based upon national allegiance.

"Bad men."  The younger boy continued to repeat.  His voice becoming a little bit more concerned with each repetition.

"Bad men. Long winter. Careful what we eat," the older one dictated.

"Bad men. Long winter. Careful eat," the younger boy whispered, watching a wooden structure fall before him.

"Yeah," his older brother nodded. "Long winter."

"Swimming?" the younger boy questioned. "Water?"

"Too cold," the older brother sighed.

"Just feet?"

"Okay, just feet." The older brother nodded.

The younger boy took a moment to process the nod before smiling. With a small cheer, he led his elder brother towards the beach.

"Careful feet. Happy feet. Steph and Jace happy."

"Jace, be careful," his older brother, Stephon, called.

When not even a hum could be heard, Stephon quickened his steps.

Many years ago, Jace had fallen on the rocks. He had been different growing up. Jace did not talk much until two years of age, but no one thought much of it. They just let him be. The elders protected his brother by stating everyone had someone like Jace. Well, they used different phrasing that Stephon did not like.

Actually, Stephon hated it. He hated it all. He always had to be there to make sure Jace remained safe. One day Stephon let his anger with his parents about all of it get the best of him. He decided not to care. Stephon let Jace move too swiftly down the rocks. Stephon could still remember Jade's scream and the silence that followed.

After the fall, Jace slept for a day or so. When Jace finally woke-up, his differences became greater. Since then, Stephon made sure he tended to Jace when his parents were working in the field.

Unfortunately, since the raids began, most of the harvest had been destroyed. His parents began to look for work wherever they could. Stephon knew the village would be changing. People already began to speak of famine. He did not know what that meant for Jace, but someone had to protect his brother. Right now, Stephon would do it.  He would not breathe easy until they were beyond the steep, rocky path.