𝔾𝕌ℕ𝕊 𝔸ℕ𝔻 ℝ𝕆𝕊𝔼𝕊

Moments

"𝘿𝙖𝙙?"

The young girl, only 9 years of age, was confused at the sight of her father. The one she had only ever known as a symbol of unyielding strength, was crying. The sound was silent, but the sight of tears dripping down his cheeks was there. It made no sense to her, why her father was crying at the sight of the dog tags he held. To her, it was only a necklace. At the sound of his daughter's voice, the man quickly wiped away his tears, looking back at the girl with his usual smile. But it was small and strained, she could tell."Hey, Sweetie." He spoke, his voice holding a false sense of happiness. The young girl walked up to her father, rubbing her eyes gently. She had been asleep moments before, but had come downstairs in an attempt to soothe the thirst that had awoken her. Seeing her father in this state, however, distracted her from her earlier mission. "Why are you crying?" She asked, her voice soft and somewhat sleepy. Her father sighed as he looked at her with such kind eyes. Eyes that swirled with sorrow even if the tears had momentarily stopped. He tapped his knee gently, and she took the initiative to climb into her father's lap, the way she usually did when he was reading her a story. It seemed he had another to share with her, though this one was not in a book.

He stroked the fireplace he sat in front of gently, coaxing new life back into the flames before they died out. The girl gently grabbed his wrist, studying the silver chain her father held in his hands. He watched her curious eyes trace the shape of the tags, not touching them as if she could sense their importance. He sighed, speaking his next few words gently. "When I was a boy, my father was a soldier, just like his father before him. And on the day he left our home for the last time, he told me something important. 'Take care of the people you love, and never let them go. Because in the end, when you close your eyes for the final time, the moments you shared will be the treasure you leave them to remember you by.' I didn't know what he meant until I was given these." He placed the tags in his daughter's hands, letting her read the inscription.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʙᴀᴋᴇʀ

ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ

13903572

ᴏ-

ɴᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ

The little girl looked up at her father. Her eyes were full of awe and wonder. She gave him back the tags, reaching for the silver chain on his neck. "Just like yours?" She asked, her voice small. Her father smiled sadly, pulling his own tags out from under his shirt. "Yeah, Ari. Just like mine." He said, his voice still sorrowful. "You'll have these one day. You'll be able to carry these tags wherever you go in life. And I'll be there, even if you can't see me." He hugs his daughter, her little arms wrapping around his neck as she hugs him back. The two are silent for the rest of the evening, the little girl drifting off to the sound of the fire and her father's strong heartbeat.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The sound of a gunshot was something she was used to. Having been hunting with her father for nearly 5 years, now at the age of 14, the little girl had grown just a bit. Not only in height, but in maturity. And while she had cried the first time she had seen her father shoot a deer, she had long since gotten comfortable around it. "This is to feed our family" he'd say. "This is how we survive." She knew this, of course. The meats not only fed their stomachs in a nice stew, but her father often sold the furs and horns in his shop, and were by far the most popular items. But this time, she was being given the chance to try. To try and shoot a deer, just like she had always watched her father. Before, he would teach her the basics of skinning the animal, preparing the meat, and carrying the important packs of supplies she and her father needed on these trips. But now... now she was being handed a gun.