I Chose to Bow

Son of the Past

Black night enveloped the sky bit by bit, lengthening each shadow across the ground towards the east. Stars blinked and shimmered overhead and the moon was out, but the light it gave only served to remind them of the pursuers who, perhaps, were already well on their trail. Ranboo had teleported them some distance, but whether that would be enough or not was anyone's guess. Philza peered out between the branches wearily, scanning the forest for signs of movement. He could see nothing, but his uneasiness would not pass. Memories of the shadows that he had seen, of the fire licking the trunk of each tree and the darkness that had spread from the lone form of a man still shaped his fear into a long-lasting dread that stared through his eyes and kept him wakeful in the tree. Yet nothing seemed to stir.

He did not remember when he fell asleep, only that suddenly he was startled from it into wakefulness by a sound that he soon was able to identify. Short, high-pitched cries coming from far, far away to the left, out of the forest. Cries of men in either fear or pain, but he could not tell which. He reached out, his fingers just able to brush Kristin's where she lay, also awake, in the branches beside him. Curled up on top of her, Bunnyblade shivered. Only Ranboo slept on.

"What is that?" Kristin whispered. Phil shook his head in answer. Bunny made no move, but they did not ask him to identify the sounds. It was enough that they frightened him.

Then a new sound, harsh and shrill like the cry of some hunting bird, overcame all the shouts they were hearing. It repeated several times and on a few occasions it seemed to be closer, then farther away. The trio listened hard, keeping as still as they could. Philza's whisper barely touched the stillness. "Is it circling?"

But nothing appeared to come near enough to threaten them, and at length, despite their fear, the family once again slept. Beyond their refuge, the shouts of men and the cries of that bird continued, repeating for almost an hour longer until at last they ceased. Then silence fell back over the heavy cover of the trees.

Philza was woken in the morning by Ranboo, who had a large grin on his face, somewhat disconcerting to look at, since his mouth was so much bigger than Philza was used to. "We have help." The Enderman said. "Look who's come." He pointed towards the ground.

In the shadow of another tree, a lean figure stood. It was raggedly cloaked and hard to make out, but Philza thought he saw mussed dark hair and a pair of green, shining eyes. He had no idea who or what this was, but Ranboo seemed glad to see him.

The Enderman leapt off the tree, landing smoothly and walking to the dark figure. "Heyyyy!" He cried, holding out his arms. "Good to see you! When'd you get here? And how?" Then he shook his head. "Wait, no, that's another plate. First, lemme...." He looked back up at Philza, who was still peering down at him from the branches in confusion. "Phil! Come on down! It's Wil!"

Wil. Wilbur.

Philza wasn't sure how, but suddenly he was on the ground and standing before this stranger he should remember. The person looked at him. Besides the messy hair and the eyes, his skin was very pale and the cloak was apparently ragged wings. He had a small tail, straight and scaly, that was switching back and forth. He grinned lopsidedly at Phil.

"Hey, Dad."

A sharp stab of guilt and pain pierced the farmer's heart. He had so little memory of this youth, no more than a name and the knowledge that he loved him. Yet already he did not want to dash the welcoming hope in the boy's eyes. Phil swallowed hard. "I...hello." He didn't know what to say.

From the tree, Kristin descended, helped by Ranboo, and clinging to her was Bunnyblade. Kristin came up next to her husband. "Are we safe yet?" She asked quietly.

"I...I think so." He answered, his eyes still on Wilbur. "Mate," he said, deciding his best option was to break this gently, "I'm afraid I must tell you something."