Small John IV

"You have a shield. Use it!" Morrison's eyes were fixed on Karl as he fought against Graham. Graham had the upper hand as he was already an experienced soldier. Karl didn't have an easy time trying to dodge or block the oncoming blows.
    Small John couldn't blame him not wanting to get hit. He was still nursing his own aching shoulder after having taken a beating from Hugh, another trained soldier. Unlike Karl, he had made use of his shield, but Hugh's blows were so hard that his arm was still numb. Karl probably didn't want to end up the same way.
    "That's enough." Morrison stepped between the two fighters. He stepped up to Karl and grabbed the rim of his shield and tugged it upward into the right position. "Hold it like this. If an Orc tries to hit you, block it. You'll live longer."
    With a slap on the shoulder Morrison sent Karl back into the ranks. "Graham, well done. If you still got some fight in you, I've got someone who needs another round." His eyes wandered across the new recruits and settled on Small John.
    He had to be kidding. Small John was sick and tired of being beaten. He wanted to learn and get better. He wanted to become one of the best who could fight several Orcs at once, but that future looked dim. He felt weak and small compared to the soldier's like Hugh, who still had a big grin plastered on his face. He didn't move from the ranks.
    "John, you don't want to train?" The Guardian's jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. "Well, that's too bad, because the Orcs are coming, if you want them to or not. So get up here and fight! You still have a lot to learn and Graham's going to teach you."
    Small John suppressed an indignant sigh and tried not to wince as he rolled his shoulders. No reason to show them more weakness. He picked up his practice sword and shield, then went to face Graham. The soldier was smiling. Unlike Hugh's, it looked like a genuine friendly smile.
    "You're tired. Let's pretend you're in a battle. You've survived several clashes, but now you're losing strength. You might lose your life, but for now you still have to fight." Graham dropped his shield to the ground and looked toward Morrison. The Guardian nodded. "Come on, drop it. You'll have less protection, but more energy to wield your sword. What's the use in battering your shield anyway? We already saw earlier that you can use it."
    Was that a complement? Small John dropped his own shield and tightened his grip on the sword. Graham slashed the air diagonally in front of him. "I'm going to attack you like this. One stroke to your left followed by one to your right. Parry them."
    Small John let out a deep breath. He had expected Graham to just come at him the way Hugh had done, but he was actually taking time to teach him something. Morrison had turned his back to them and was talking to Karl. The pressure of the Guardian watching faded and he tried to prepare.
    When the first blow came Small John lifted his sword and stumbled backward from the impact. He kept his sword up and dug in his heels to prepare for the second attack. Graham swung his blade at his right, but not the way he had shown. His blow didn't connect with Small John's block, it came from the side and hammered into his ribs.
    Small John doubled over and gasped in pain. He was down on one knee, holding his side. What was that for? He tried to catch his breath. "I thought you were going to swing diagonally."
    Graham held out a hand. "I also told you to parry and not to hold up your sword to block the blow you knew was coming. You need to learn to trust your instincts and act upon what you see and not what you are told. An Orc would have taken the chance just like I did, but he would have hit a lot harder."
    Small John grasped the offered hand and was pulled back onto his feet. "An Orc wouldn't have told me how he would attack."
    "True, but you need to learn what to expect in battle, not what to expect int the training yard." Graham took a few steps back and went into a defensive stance. "Now you're also going to have to work on your footing. My first strike almost knocked you down. That can't happen in battle or you're dead. Attack me the way I attacked you and you'll see what I mean."
    "Alright." Small John shook his shoulders to loosen them up and suppressed the ache in his ribs. He strode toward the soldier and swung his sword diagonally at Graham's left. It was blocked. He didn't even budge.
    Small John could still feel his arm shaking from the clash of steel, but he drew his sword back and attacked Graham's side horizontally, the way he had done to Small John. Graham easily blocked the blade and took a side step, his own sword swinging at Small John's head. It was more instinct than anything else that allowed him to stop the oncoming blow. He was breathing hard, waiting for the next attack to come, but Graham had already taken a step back.
    "Good job. Lesson learned." Graham looked to Morrison, who had stopped training Karl and had watched the whole fight.
    Morrison's brooding stare was focused on him. The corners of his lips slid upward in a hint of a smile. "Yes, good job. Now do it again."

   

Small John III

"All of you have been chosen for one of two reasons. Either you are strong." Commander Arensen was walking past the ranks of soldiers. He was tall and had wide shoulders. He was wearing his armor that shone brilliantly in the sunlight. "Or you are experienced and already one of the best."
    Small John stood straight. He was proud that he had been chosen to join the battalion, but he wanted more. He would have to prove himself against the rest of the men. Most of them were older and they looked stronger. Tough, but inexperienced like himself. Others looked just as martial as the commander. It was unusual for Small John to be surrounded by so many men that were as tall and as strong as he was, although he still had a few inches on most of them.
    "The goal of this battalion is to defeat the Orcs. To become the strongest, fastest and all in all best battalion we have to offer."
    Some of the men shouted their approval. The commander gave them a stern look and they quieted immediately.
    "It won't be easy. The training will be harsh and not all of you will make it through. Only the best can be of worth to the King. Together, when we are ready, we will march on the Orcs and will show them what we are made of. In the meantime other battalions are marching to our borders to protect your families and all of Thecia. And when the time comes we will come to their aid and will show them what the best warriors of the kingdom can do."
     Small John's heart beat faster. He wanted to be one of those warriors. He wanted to do his best and to show the commander how good he was. He wanted to kill Orcs and avenge his mother, his father and all of Duranham.
    "I'm telling you that others will sacrifice their lives on the borders so that you can train. So that you can become the best. Know this and give me all you have to offer. Make their lives worth something. So that one day we can protect this kingdom with the strongest force the Orcs have ever seen."
    Commander Arensen stopped walking back and forth and remained at the front of the ranks. A silence spread over the courtyard. Some of the men looked around unsure if maybe now was the time to shout with enthusiasm. Small John waited patiently.
    The commander cleared his throat and continued. "You will be separated into five groups of twenty men each. The groups will be filled with untrained and trained alike. Five of my most experienced men will be the leaders of each squad. Captain Jason will be in command of the first. The other four will be led by Guardians. They will be your mentors, your trainers and your only hope if you want to fulfill my expectations."
    Commander Arensen turned and left them standing at attention. A scribe took his place in front of the ranks and unfurled a piece of parchment. He held his chin up high and started reading from the list.
    "Captain Jason March. Leader of the first squad."
    A tall man stepped up to the front. He was shorter than Small John, but not by much. His shoulders weren't as wide and strong as those of many others, but he looked like he could handle a sword. What really struck Small John was that he had been called with a last name. His, must be a prominent family.
    Captain Jason turned to face the soldiers. His nose was held up high and his gaze seemed to look right through those in front of him. They weren't worthy of his attention. Small John hoped he wouldn't be in his squad.
    "Guardian Holden. Leader of the second squad."
    A squat man stepped through the ranks. He was shorter than almost everyone, but his arms were twice as thick as anyone's. He smiled broadly and took his place next to Captain Jason.
    "Guardian Morrison. Leader of the third squad."
    Tall and strong, the portrayal of what a warrior should look like. A thick scar ran over his cheek and more could be seen on his arms and hands. His jaw was hard set and not even the slightest hint of a smile crept to his lips when he took his place.
    "Guardian Robert Furrow. Leader of the fourth squad."
    Not as tall and not as strong looking as Morrison, Small John could still tell that Robert was more than a capable swordsman. The way he stood and moved with a certain ease declared his skill in Small John's eyes. He stepped up next to Morrison and smirked, a twinkle in his eye.
    "Guardian Yuseph. Leader of the fifth squad."
    His height and the width of his arms were similar to those of Morrison, but they were the least impressive of his attributes. His skin was the color of an oak tree. Darker than any tan. A scar, as white as cloth, went across half of his shaved head down over his eye. And the sword at his hip was a thick curved blade with only the front edge sharpened. Small John wasn't looking forward to being in his squad either.
    As soon as Yuseph was in position the scribe continued. "Adam of Gradford. First squad. Alon of Finnburrow. Fourth squad."
    The names went on and on. As soon as men heard their name they quickly strode forward and the scribe called the next. With the help of  his lessons Small John quickly realized that he was calling out the names alphabetically. It would take a while until the scribe got to S. He continued watching as all the called upon men took their places behind the leaders of each squad.
    "Jim of Freshire. Second squad. John of Duranham. Third squad." Nobody moved. "John of Duranham?"
    With a jolt Small John realized that he was being called. Even after Serah insisted on just calling him John, he still hadn't gotten used to it. He stepped forward and looked from one squad to the other. Which squad had he been assigned to?
    The scribe looked at him and sighed. "Third squad." Then he returned his gaze to his list and went on with his work. "John of Mirthwater. Squad five."
    Small John walked past Morrison, his guardian, and took his place in line. He couldn't help but notice the scowl on Morrison's face. So much for making a good first impression.

   

Small John II

"John?"
    There was another knock. Serah obviously wouldn't go away. He got up from his bed and unlocked the door.
    "I knew you were there. Why did you make me wait so long, boy?" Serah looked up at him with a sour face.
    "I'm sorry, Serah. I just didn't feel like doing much today. I feel like..."
    Serah stomped past him into his room. "I don't care what you feel like. One does not keep the Princess waiting. Now you can't go to the Princess like that, you look a mess. Comb your hair and I'll get you some clothes."
    Small John sighed and did as he was told. Serah began to rummage through his drawers, pulling things out one at a time, huffing at everything that wasn't clean. He didn't want her to yell at him again, but he also couldn't hold his tongue any longer.
    "I know I shouldn't have locked myself in." Small John yanked the comb through his hair to get the knots out.
    "That's right. There's no good reason to keep a Princess waiting." Serah had already found a good pair of pants, but was struggling to find a stainless shirt. "You should at least let the maids come in here to clean your clothes."
    "I know. I know. It's just that lately I've been feeling like I'm not being true to myself. "He put the comb on the dresser and turned to face Serah. "I enjoy spending time with Wendy. I really do. But she lives in a completely different world. I don't belong here. And I just feel like I have to be something that I'm not in front of her." Tears began to sting his eyes. "And that's all that I have, because if I look back. If I remember what I've lost. Then I... I..."
    "Oh dearie." Serah dropped the dirty clothes she was holding and pulled Small John into her arms. "You poor thing, you. I know it's hard. We all have lost people dear to us at some time or another. It's as bad as it gets for you of course, but don't worry, my boy. Don't worry. The sun will shine another day."
    He felt the small, plump woman pat his back. He knelt down to her so that she could reach over his shoulders. It was an awkward position, but it was comforting nonetheless. It felt good to be held, to be understood.
    "It's just that." Small John sniffed, even though his snot was surely already on Serah's clothes. "I spend so much time with Wendy that I don't have much time for myself. For my thoughts. Sometimes I drift off while we sit together and I remember what my life used to be like. Then... then it hits me all over again. They're all gone. And there's nothing I can do. They were slaughtered by Orcs and I'm here. As far away from those beasts as possible. Safe, in the castle." A big sob left his lungs. "It's just not fair. It's not right."
    Serah squeezed him tight and held on to him for a moment longer. When she pulled herself away he felt all alone again. "Now I don't know if I can be of much help. If you like we can sit and talk every once in a while. You definitely shouldn't speak to the Princess about any of this. It would be too distressing for the poor girl. It was right of you to keep this for yourself. At least in front of her."
    "Thank you, Serah. I just think I needed to let it out. I've been keeping all of this locked inside for too long. I just wish there was something I can do. Something to make things right. So that I don't feel like such a coward. A useless boy, hiding in the castle."
    A spark came to Serah's eyes. She looked him up and down and began to smile. "You know what? There might be something you could do. Not just for your lost ones, for your family and friends. You could be of service to the whole kingdom. You're a strong and tall lad. You could join the new battalion. You could go out to fight the Orcs."
    Small John wiped his nose on his sleeve. She was right. He had never thought of joining the King's army before, but maybe that was where he belonged. Maybe that was the place where he would find a purpose and would be able to avenge his village. "But what about Wendy?"
    Serah smiled. "She might worry about you, but she will understand. She might even like the idea of you in a suit of armor." She chuckled.
    What did she mean by that? He thought about Wendy and knew he would miss spending time with her, but he never belonged in her company either. This felt right. This would let him be true to himself. "I'll do it. How can I join?"
    "Calm down, my boy. Calm down. Let us first get you ready to visit the Princess. Then I will talk to the Commander and will get you a spot in the battalion. There's no way he would give up the chance of getting a young strapping lad like you under his command." She picked up the least dirty clothes she could find and shoved them in his hands. "Now go get dressed. The Princess is waiting."

   

Serah II

Serah watched the Princess smile and knew it had been a good idea to have her and John spend time together. It was completely unheard of to have a young girl of her stature spend time alone with a young man, especially some boy from a small village, but they were getting along well and Serah was always there keeping an eye on them.
    They sat across from each other with a table in between them. They were near the open window and the Princess was looking outside at the setting sun.
    "So what was your village like? Were there lots of trees and animals?" The Princess turned to look at John with big eyes.
    John's eyes however darkened at the mention of his village and he didn't say anything for a moment. Serah felt for the poor boy. His was a truly tragic story. "I'm sorry, Wendy. I was thinking about something else. You were asking about trees and animals?"
    "Yes. I was asking about your village. What was it like there?" The Princess's smile widened and she lay her hand upon his.
    "I believe there's been enough excitement for today." Serah bustled toward them with a tray to collect their cups and the empty bowl of fruit she had put out for them earlier. "John, I think you'd better head back to your room and let the Princess rest for the night."
    John slid his hand out from under the Princess's and blushed. Good. At least he knew his place. "Yes, of course, Serah. I'll go to my room and practice my letters before going to bed myself." He smiled at the Princess.
    She grinned. "Oh, Serah. He has been making such wonderful progress. Soon he'll be able to read wonderful stories to me while we sit in the garden."
    John seemed to know his place, but the Princess's fancies were starting to get out of hand. This friendship was arranged to keep her company. To keep her from being lonely. Not to have some village boy become her suitor. Maybe Serah had been wrong. Maybe a girl friend would have been better.
    John stood and bowed. "Goodbye Wendy. Rest well and I shall see you tomorrow." He smiled, but Serah saw a touch of sadness in his eyes. "Goodbye Serah."
    "Goodbye!" The Princess said graciously as John turned to leave the room.
    "Now, now. Up with you my Princess and into bed." Serah closed the window and bustled over to the dresser to get a fresh nightgown. The Princess's little steps slowly brought her to her bed where Serah helped her change. She folded the covers and helped the Princess get under them.
    "Oh, Small John is such a lovely man. He may only come from a tiny village from the outskirts of the kingdom, but he is still quite handsome."
    "Oh my Princess, darling. These words you speak are so distressing. You speak of the boy as a man. While he himself insists on being called 'Small'. You are a Princess and like you said, he is just a village commoner. I must say these feelings you're displaying are quite unseemly."
    "A boy? You've seen how tall he is. And those arms. He's one of the strongest looking men I've ever seen. I dream of him sometimes. He's a soldier in the army, fighting against horrible monsters. Orcs with sharp teeth and gruesome bloodied weapons. He strikes them down like flies and wins the battle. A true hero." The Princess grasped her blanket to her chest. "Oh, how wonderful he is."
    "Those are just dreams, my Princess." Serah put a hand on hers to ease the blanket out of it. "Now calm down and think of less exciting things. You need your rest."
    The young Princess sure had an imagination. She just wished she would use it for more appropriate things. She was right of course. John was quite strong and fair, but that changed nothing about his status. It just wouldn't be right and she had to do something about it before the King heard about her silly fancies.
    "Goodnight, Serah." The Princess smiled and shut her eyes.
    She looked so very pale and frail in the flickering torchlight. Maybe the young girl wanted to be a woman before she died. Would that really be such a horrible thing, even if the man wasn't of the right class?
    Serah lit a big wax candle that served as a nightlight and removed the burning torch from its sconce. She went to the chamber door and wiped a tear from her eye.
    "Goodnight, my Princess."

   

Small John

A knock came at the door.
     Small John hurried over and opened it. It was Serah, the Princess's maid. "John, the Princess will see you now."
     "Uhm... yes, just a moment." John hurried back into his room to get ready.
Serah stomped in after him. "One does not keep the Princess waiting." She started, but then she saw Small John struggling with the fine clothes and his hair was a mess. "Oh my! In this case we better make an exception. Let me help you dearie!"
     Small John had been trying to get ready for the past half hour, knowing that he would be summoned to the Princess's chambers today, but he was unaccustomed to wearing more than a shirt and trousers. Serah seemed to know just what to do. She ignored what Small John had tried to put on so far and got out new clothes from different drawers.
     "Here, these are underclothes. Put those on first. And get rid of those leggings, you're not a courtier. A fine pair of trousers will do. And here is a nice linen shirt, don't bother with the laces at the top. You'll look a bit rugged, but fine nonetheless. Now go behind that screen and get dressed. Then we can get a comb through your hair and be on our way."
     Small John changed into the clothing quickly, not wanting to keep the Princess waiting much longer. He was amazed by the simple colors, brown and white, that Serah had chosen for him. Before she came he had been fussing with red, purple and blue, even yellow clothes. He thought they all looked horrid, but that was what everyone else seemed to be wearing. Luckily Serah helped him pick out things that he felt more comfortable in.
     Running a comb through his hair hurt and getting all the knots out took a few minutes, but then they were on their way. Small John thought they'd be in a rush, but Serah walked through the halls slowly. Apparently, that was how it was done. Running or even just walking fast, would probably be seen as improper.
     Small John was busy thinking about what he should say. The Princess wasn't just any girl. He was told they were the same age, but he would have to show respect and much of it. The girls in Duranham were nothing compared to her. Small John had gotten along with them well enough, even kissed a few, but those experiences surely wouldn't be much use to him when meeting the princess.
     Thinking of Duranham hurt inside. They were probably all dead now. That's why he was here. His father had sent him to warn the King and to save his life. He would probably be out on the streets now, but at least he'd be alive.
     It was the Princess who asked the King if Small John couldn't stay in the castle with them. Serah had told him that. She said that since he had no place to live that he could become a kind of companion or friend of the Princess, since she didn't have any others.
     Serah stopped in front of a door and Small John almost ran right into her. He was so nervous he was starting to sweat. "Calm down, John, and don't forget who you are speaking to. She is the Princess after all."
Serah opened the door and they entered together. She  announced their arrival and the Princess turned away from the window to greet them. Small John was dumbfounded when he looked upon her. She was a vision of beauty. Young, tall, slim and blonde. That's what he saw from afar, but as she came closer he saw the effects of her illness.
     They were about the same age, but her eyes were set in deep hollows and there were bags underneath from lack of sleep. She was tall, but what she had gained in height she lacked in weight. She was too slim for her stature, barely more than skin and bone. She looked frail, as if one could snap her like a twig. Only the beauty of her hair remained as a symbol of what she could look like if she were healthy.
     Serah curtsied. "This is John."
     The Princess smiled at him. Serah coughed. Small John smiled back, looking at the Princess, completely oblivious. Serah gave him a nudge with her elbow, which pulled him out of his stupor. He bowed. "Ahem... excuse me, my Princess."
     "Hello John! Please, call me Wendy." Her eyes, though set deep within her face, sparkled with joy.
     "I thought your name was Theowenna?" Small John looked at her in confusion.
     Serah drew in a sharp breath. "John! She is your Princess. If she asks you to call her Wendy, then you shall not question her!"
     "It's okay, Serah." The Princess smiled on, even though she was starting to dodder. "If you don't mind, let us sit and..."
     "Please, sit down." Small John wasn't going to let the Princess stand any longer than was necessary. He didn't want her to faint after all.
     "John! You shouldn't interrupt the Princess when she speaks!" But Serah shuffeled over to the Princess and lead her to a seat by the window. "Of course, when it comes to her health it is best to let her rest as soon as possible instead of letting her babble on, because she thinks it is the proper thing to do." She gave the Princess a kind nod and a smile. "Now come over here, boy. And sit down."
     Small John went to sit across from the Princess. His brow was still sweating, which made him feel uncomfortable and he didn't know what to say, which made the sweating even worse. So far whenever he had opened his mouth or had failed to do so, Serah had scolded him. Luckily the Princess had recovered enough to speak again.
     "I asked you to call me Wendy, because it sounds so much better than being named after my father. And that is why I have always wanted my friends to call me so. Sadly, since my sickness has gotten worse over the last few years, my friends of my childhood seem to have spread out through the land, going on with their lives. I was left here in my room and have once again become Theowenna, the Princess." Her face dropped in a grimace of despair and she placed her hand upon her forehead, but the corner of her mouth gave a hint of a smile.
     "If it pleases you, my Princess." Small John thought that was the right way to speak with her. "Then I shall call you Wendy. I would gladly take the place left by all your childhood friends, as you can fill the space left within me. Since I have lost all my old friends as well." Small John tried to fight back the tears as he remembered his friends, his father and his mother most of all.
     The Princess's act of dispair vanished in an instant and she smiled again. "I'm glad that you will be my friend, but please don't speak like some stuck-up fool. Just be yourself."
     Small John smiled back at her. He had lost many that he loved, but the future was not as dark as he thought it might be. There was hope left inside of him. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at Serah, wondering if she would accept his plain speech in front of the Princess. She nodded, seeming to know what he was thinking. "Alright! I'll be myself. Then if you don't mind. Please, call me Small John."
     The Princess snorted with laughter. "But... but your so tall."
     "Well, you want to be called Wendy and you have your reasons and I have mine."
     "Okay. Small John it is. I'm pleased to have you as my friend." Wendy smiled more brightly than ever.
     "And I'm pleased to be yours, Wendy." Small John smiled right back at her.

   

Big John

"John! Come quick, it's Marla!"

     Big John was chopping wood for the village, but as soon as he heard someone shout his name, he dropped his axe. Sweat ran down his face from the hard work, he was exhausted, but something had happened to his wife, so he ran to their house as fast as he could.

     He burst through the door with his heavy frame. Several people were within. Marla was on the bed, bloody bandages next to her, on the floor. The village healer was leaning over her. "What happened?" Big John asked.

     "She was out in the fields, gathering herbs," said Gabe, a farmer. "An Orc rode up to her and shot her with an arrow, point blank."

     Big John went to kneel beside the bed and hold her hand. There was so much blood. Her hand was cold and clammy. Marla looked him in the eye, gasping for breath, face twitching in pain. "An Orc? Why would it do that? Where did it go?"

     Marla grasped his hand with all her strength. "It...it said... to give a message. Tomorrow at dawn... They...they... attack!" Her fingers slackened and her eyes closed.

     "Marla?" Big John was about to shake her. She couldn't just die. But then the healer held him back.

     "She's just unconscious. She's still breathing. But there's not much more I can do. It doesn't look good."

     Big John sighed in relief. Then got up on his feet and stood up straight, towering over everyone else in the room. "Where did that beast go?"

     "It rode off to where it came from. They're going to attack tomorrow. It was a warning." Gabe looked pale. If it was from all the blood or from the prospect of being attacked, Big John didn't know or care.

     "A warning? Shooting an arrow through my wife is a warning?" Big John balled his fists together. His breathing quickened. It was an outrage. How dare they attack. What had the villagers of Duranham done to those beasts. They couldn't let this stand. Something had to be done.

     "Mama?" Small John stood in the door to their home. He was out of breath and looked ghostly pale. They called him Small John, only because he was Big John's son. Physically, he came after his father in every regard. He was tall for sixteen years of age and was still growing. Having helped his father cut wood over the years had made him muscular as well. But looking at him now, Big John saw how young he still was.

     Big John strode toward his son and blocked the boys view of his mother and the blood. "She's fine boy. She just needs to rest. I need you to do something for me. Go outside and unhitch the horse from the cart, I'll be right out."

     Small John looked uncertain, but followed his father's orders and went back outside. Big John strode to the healer, she was the only scribe in the village, and he asked her to write a message for the King. He gathered some provisions and with the message in hand he went outside.

     Small John had just finished unhitching the horse and was putting a saddle on its back. "Come here, boy! I have an important job for you. I need you to bring this message to the King. You hear? Can you do that for me?"

     Small John looked up at him. He was tall, but still not quite as tall as his father. He seemed to feel that something wasn't right, but he nodded. "Pa, is Mama gonna be alright?"

     "Of course she is. Don't you worry. You'll be back in a few days and she'll be just fine. You'll see." Big John hated lying to the boy, but it was better than the alternative. He knew he was going to lose his wife and he knew he was going to fight against Orcs, fearsome warriors. He didn't know if he'd survive, but he damn well wasn't going to let his son be endangered as well. He had to get out while he still could.

     "Okay, Pa." Small John grabbed the provisions and the message. Before he could get on the saddle Big John grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in for a hug.

     "I'm so proud of you, boy. That's why I trust you to do this for me. Just wanted you to know that." He let his son go from the embrace and put on a broad smile. He hoped the kid wouldn't see how fake it was. "Now go, boy. Go."

     Small John smiled back and got up on the saddle. The horse galloped away, bringing his son to safety. Big John went back inside his house. People were still gathered within, watching Marla. She was conscious again. Big John knelt down beside her.

     "Where's my small Johnny baby?" She whispered.

     Big John took her small, cold hands into his. "He's safe, darling. He's going to be just fine."

     "That's good. I'd just like to see him again. One more time."

     "Don't say such things. You'll be just fine as well."

     "Maybe... it doesn't hurt anymore... maybe you're right." Marla smiled up at him."My big handsome woodsman. I love you." All strength left her hands and the light in her eyes began to fade.

     "I love you, too." Big John kissed her forehead, a single tear running down his cheek. She was gone.