They sleep now, but not in peace like the Children of Wanderers. Fitfully. Fearfully. They have no tent, only a pallet and some sheets, but for the time being, it is all they need. Their few and evidently precious belongings sit just behind their heads, untouched by the Wandering Realm. Two Guards stand a few steps away from them, watching over them for their sakes and for the Realm's. Uncertainty surrounds the two, the woman and the boy. They were placed near the edge of the encampment, where they arrived, and were quick to sleep. Who knows when they will wake? They will wake in fear; they sleep fretfully.
The woman's eyebrows are furrowed, forehead creased, eyes shut tight, body curled around the child who she holds close to her even in sleep. In return, he has a similar expression on his youthful face, his body hunched and curled up. A boy should sleep in innocent tranquility, not like this. Not like this, where both of them have eyes wearied from crying. Who are they? Why have they come, so late and so suddenly from the dark wilderness? Where they are from is an easy guess, based on their clothes, their accents, her bow and arrows. But who are they? To us or to each other? From appearance alone, they hold little to no resemblance, and she does not look old enough to have borne the boy herself.
The Children of Wanderers are being kept from them at the moment by the Guards, again for the sake of both the woman and the boy, and the Realm. We know nothing about them. She barely spoke; he cried unintelligibly. She was almost silent, he ceased crying, and they slept. That was all. And still they sleep now.
"What do you think she meant, General? 'Legacy of an Arrowhead', 'Children of the Keeper'." I turn to see the familiar face of an inquisitive young woman in training as a Guard. Beside me, the General gives the girl a look.
"Continue on your way, Guardling," she says, a hint of amusement lining the words, and with a slight wrinkle of the nose, the younger woman obeys.
The General glances at me. "I assume the woman meant she knows the Keeper," she says. I nod. That is probably the case. "But I don't know what arrowheads have to do with legacies at all."
We look at the sleeping pair. "Neither do I," I murmur. "But their having endured suffering of some kind is clear enough."
"Well, I believe the Keeper brought them here to us." The General straightens. "We will find out why eventually." She turns away, glancing at me and at the other Guard. "For now, let nobody disturb them. Make sure their sleep is as peaceful as we can make it." She grimaces a little. "I imagine their reality will be unpleasant to wake to." A hint of sorrow touches her voice.
"We can deal with this, General," the other Guard dips his head. "I'm sure you have other concerns."
She dips her head to us both before walking away, fingers rubbing the engravings along the staff of her spear.
"The Great Shepherd has preserved them so far," I murmur. It is only right we try and do the same for them.
"She called themselves His Children," he nods. "The Keeper is a Father, after all, with a heart like one. He'll protect them as His own."
"So we'll protect them as our own."
"We are Children of the Keeper as well, after all. One People." 🔹
YOU ARE READING
Spontanéité
Short StoryA collection of some bits and pieces of my written works. These bits and pieces weren't all spontaneous pieces of writing, though. They're descriptions of people, places and memories, and maybe they're short stories or other things. I don't know, it...
