Going Home

"Thomas!" A youthful but imposing voice called out from a large tent. This tent was embroidered with green and gold colored thread. The sigil of a draconic creature, green, and twisting, was boldly displayed on the side. In other words, the tent stood out. Especially compared to the small group of plain white tents in was surrounded by.

"Thom-" Before he could finish calling again, a harried looking fellow in a disheveled forest green uniform burst through the tent flaps and performed a prompt salute.

"You called Commander Lawrence, sir!" Thomas said, addressing a young man sat across a small pinewood desk. The commander had short raven black hair, combed neatly to one side. He was wearing a plain white shirt and slacks held up by suspenders.

Commander Lawrence had his head down and was furiously scribbling something in an open book.

"Thomas... how's the weather?" He asked without looking up from his work.

"A fine spring day, sir! Blue skies and a few low hanging clouds! Slightly warmer than yesterday!" Thomas reported with great enthusiasm.

"Hmmm." Lawrence finished what he was writing and placed the open book on his desk next to a stamp, an unfurled map, and a pile of documents. He looked up at his subordinate.

Lawrence was frowning but it seemed to fit his face somehow. Like he had been frowning since the day he was born. The commander couldn't have been older than 25 but his serious countenance made him look more mature than his years.

"Well, take a seat man." He said and motioned to the empty chair across the table.

Thomas did sit as instructed, his butt so close to the edge he was practically doing a squat. He kept his back ramrod straight.

Lawrence rapped his knuckles on the desk, head cocked to one side, thinking. Then he inspected his subordinate and his frown deepened.

"You look completely unpresentable Thomas, why are you in such a state...?" He asked in accusatory tone.

Thomas bowed his head. "I'm utterly ashamed sir! I can only say that you called me while I was in the middle of changing into my clean spare uniform. I wanted to look my best for our meeting with the mayor this evening."

"Oh." The commander's face relaxed to a less pronounced frown. "Then the fault is mine."

"Not at all sir." Thomas assured him with head still bowed.

Lawrence stood and paced back and forth in the small confines of his tent. "No, I've been on edge lately. Constantly having to discipline out new... comrades, has made me quick to assume the worst. So, once again I'll say, the fault, is mine."

"Raise your head." Lawrence stopped pacing and ordered. "Finish changing and ready the horses for our ride into the village. We'll be well taken care of so pack light. I'll meet you by the stable shortly. That is all." He began to study the open map on the table after speaking.

Thomas stood up. "Sir! Yes, sir!" He acknowledged and turned to leave the tent but stopped short just before the exit. "Forgive my boldness, sir but... it's been hard on you. If I can do more to ease your burden it would be my honor." Thomas said eagerly, eyes shining.

Lawrence looked up briefly with one raised eyebrow. "I'll do my duty, you do yours. Nothing else is necessary... Dismissed."

Thomas looked briefly disappointed but hid it well and pushed through the tent flaps.

After Thomas took his leave Lawrence's eyes did not move form the same spot on the map. He was lost in thought. The reason? He had a bad feeling. A bad feeling that started earlier in the day and was only getting worse.

If he had shared such vague concerns with the other commanders back at Border Town they would laugh. If he'd shared them with his father, the Vice Leader of Dancing Wyrms, he would have heard him out patiently but not taken much stock in something so unfounded.

Lawrence had a nickname back in Border Town, the Doomsayer. He didn't mind the nickname as it was born out of affection and familiarity. As the youngest and most skilled commander in the largest, and most well known mercanary group in the province, Lawrence was was very popular. It also helped that he was extremely handsome. His perpetually gloomy face only enhanced his looks, according to his outspoken admirers. The fact that he was pessimistic to a fault was treated as an interesting personality trait.

For the dinner with the mayor he dressed put on his full uniform, in pristine condition. The light leather armor was a cut above what the rank and file members wore. The only identifying mark on the brown armor was the familiar green emblem of the Wyrms above his heart.

Lawrence stepped outside his tent for the first time that day. It was beautiful out, just as Thomas had said.

'Its not bad weather then...' Lawrence thought.

Those leftover dregs from Rooks we're all out on patrol. His reliable aid, Paulson would be in charge of that rabble while he and Thomas were away from camp. There had been nothing unusual in the vicinity since he'd taken over the post from Commander Troy last month.

'Maybe I have gotten too worked up getting these pathetic excuses for recruits in line.' He thought.

Nothing of note had happened around Clearspring in ages. The dangerous beasts stayed up in the mountains and the local bandits would only mess with the Wyrms if they had a death wish. That's why it was the ideal training mission.

Lawrence shrugged off the nagging feeling of doubt and made his way to the camp stables.

After a leisurely ride to the village he'd negotiate their contract with the mayor over dinner. It was a mere formality but one he was looking forward too. The mayor of Clearspring Village was great company and a wonderful conversationalist. Lawrence almost smiled at the thought of the evening to come.

...

It was late afternoon by the time Charlie and Rebecca arrived back at the farms. They were both mentally and physically exhausted. Also, wet and freezing from their recent dip in a recently thawed pond.

Charlie in particular was shivering badly. He had left his bloodstained outerwear in the forest and was down to his skivvies.

"There they are! I see them!" The familiar voice of Sam the farmer carried across the field and others soon followed.

"Where?"

"Over there, in the fields! To the northwest!"

One voice in particular was louder and more animated than the rest. "You found my granddaughter!!? Take me there, now! What do you mean what do I mean!? Carry me, you lazy brat! I'm old!!!"

A sizable group of familiar villagers, Old Joe riding piggyback on the massive shoulders of Matt the baker's son included, were quickly converging on their position.

"Remember what we talked about," Rebecca whispered to Charlie before they arrived. "Just follow my lead and keep looking miserable."

"Sure..." He still wasn't completely sold on their plan but he trusted Rebecca and miserable, he could do.

Soon they were surrounded by a concerned and curious search party. Sam saw that they were both soaked and wrapped his bulky jacket around them both. Charlie was still supporting Rebecca on her bad side.

"We're all relieved to see you back." He said and then frowned. "Where on earth did you kids end up? We thought the worst when neither of you showed at lunch or later at the schoolhouse. Half the village is out searching."

Teenagers in the village from 11 to 17 years old had collective lessons in the schoolhouse in the afternoon. The younger children went to the nursery. This freed their parents up to go to work and helped foster a sense of community in the younger generation.

"I think I've broken my ankle." Rebecca said instead of answering. "And Charlie might still be in shock. Let's get to doctor Maarten and then we'll tell you all about what happened." She finished calmly.

Looks of genuine concern flashed across the group's faces. The two kids looked absolutely awful, Charlie in particular. He hadn't managed to wash away all of the blood and with a long cut across one cheek and a massive ripe bruise on the other, it was like he'd just been through a war. He was also doing his best to look vacant and pitiful. It was working.

"A broken ankle!" That shout followed by a cry of woe came from Old Joe who was just arriving on Matt's back.

Joe slapped the back of Matt's head after they'd come through the semi circle of onlookers. "Let me down you oaf." Matt just smiled softly and lowered the old man to the ground.

"Rebecca! My little flower! What happened!?" Old Joe was nearly in tears as he rushed to his granddaughter's side, it was like Charlie was totally invisible. He cupped her face and looked at Rebecca like he could hardly believe she was real. "I was so worried when you didn't return. It's good you're back... Good you're back..."

Rebecca did start crying at this outpouring of love and emotion. "Oh, grandpa... It was awful!"

"It's okay now. It's all going to be okay." Old Joe stroked her hair gently as she cried into his chest. Then he turned to the group and snarled, "What's wrong with all of you! Start carrying her to the doctor! Bunch of useless grown men..."

Matt and a buff farmer named Jessica came and supported Rebecca on both sides, relieving Charlie of the burden. She kept Sam's jacket and Jessica gave her own to Charlie with a kind smile.

"Cut the boys some slack old timer." Jessica said to Joe with a wink.

"Humph" Joe snorted, staying by Rebecca's side as the trio began moving. He turned to the hulking giant that was Matt. "You'll wish you'd never been born if you drop her, oaf..." Matt smiled sweetly and said nothing.

"Grandpa!" Rebecca admonished the old man and he put his hands up apologetically.

Sam came to Charlie's side looking a little contrite. He patted the young man on the shoulder. "Sorry if I sounded harsh. We were all just worried, you know?" He said and smiled. Sam's smile was rich and expressive. His skin was weathered from years of outdoor work but the many laugh lines on his face looked like cracks the bark of an old tree.

"Yeah, no worries..." Charlie responded. Having no parents and as he'd gotten older feeling increasingly isolated, Charlie rarely interacted with the adult villagers. He knew Sam had a young daughter but could count the times he'd talked to the man on one hand. At this moment Charlie wished he knew him better. Sam's quiet dignity and kindness stood out all the more in comparison to the last adult Charlie confronted, Goerge.

"Can you walk alright?" Sam asked

"Sure, I'm felling fine." Charlie said and took a step. The first was fine but on the second he completely lost his footing. Sam caught the boy like he'd half expected this and lifted him up on his back with ease.

"I'm sure you are." Sam said jokingly and walked along with the rest. Some of the people in the group left to go tell other villagers that the search was off. Relief was apparent on all of their faces.

Charlie held onto to Sam's shoulders and looked out across the empty fields. The sun had disappeared under the treeline and it was shaping up to be a spectacular sunset. While he watched a burnt orange streak spread across the sky Charlie heard a myriad of familiar voices fill his ears.

"Did that Charlie kid get you into some kind of trouble, little flower? I never had a good feeling about him. Those shifty eyes he has..." Old Joe spoke to Rebecca without even trying to keep his voice down.

"GRANDPA!" Rebecca scolded her grandfather fiercely and Joe shut his mouth. The group had a good laugh at him getting his comeuppance.

'Screw you old timer!' Charlie thought but he had a big grin on his face.

He was going home. For the first time in a long while Charlie felt like that meant something.