Great Heads

8: Found II

Kaleb

The old fellow had told me that I could call him Grandfather or Pa for short. He helped take care of my wounds better. He was very friendly to me. He was someone I certainly did not even know before now, yet showed concern.

I still occupied the room I had slept in.

“Have this,” he said to me, giving me a large sized shirt and a pair of brown pants. “You can join us for breakfast after you wash up.”

He was about leaving the room when I asked him, “Is this Forestille?”

With a friendly grin plastered across his face, he replied, “Well, this as you can see is my little cottage where I farm. A single house can not be a town. Although Forestille's just a few miles away.”

“Can you take me there?” I inquired, possessing an amount of hope.

“You should have a bath and eat first.”

He then left the room and closed the door behind him.

At the breakfast table, seeing the way the food was arranged across the table made me realize that I had not had anything to eat for days! I was starved!

God, I was hungry. After so many days and I now finally had something to put in my stomach. I had not even noticed. This was the only good thing I had seen and experienced in the past few days of my life. It was too good to be true. It seemed almost unreal. “Was this another dream?” I questioned myself in doubt.

No. The meat I chewed was certainly real. I needed no one to tell me I was having nice flavours on my taste buds.

Things were going fine. Everything seemed normal until the bad feeling came again. I felt it again, the curse feeling I had told you about. Well, it came when a loud bang was heard on the door. Everyone looked at each other.

The old fellow said, “That's strange. We often don't get visitors here.”

I picked up a knife on the table and prepared myself.

I planned on throwing it at whoever was going to walk through that door. There were two things that ran through my mind. One was that if I did that and the person did not turn out to be whom I expected, I would blind a random visitor.

The other was that if I did not do it or I missed and it turned out to be the expected person or persons, I would not only endanger myself but these strangers around me.

My hands held tightly onto the knife as I thought.

I wondered how these men kept on finding me. What did they even want from me? Before the old fellow could even stand up to get the door, the cottage's wooden door literally burst open. It fell, broken on the floor. A man in a cloak that had the Rocainian army crest by the side suddenly stormed in, living everyone in tremor.

His eyes glanced through the place as if looking for someone. That someone was definitely me! I hid myself under the table waiting for the right moment to strike.

The man forcefully dragged the woman who had sat with us for breakfast. She was quivering in fear. He held her tightly by her chin interrogating her and the others. I could visibly see her fidget alongside the others.

"Where's the boy?!" He thundered with might. He then held her with his blade directly close to her throat. They all were flabbergasted.

“I know he's here. A young boy of the Rocain.” There was no reply, the strangers just shook in fear. “You rather protect a person you know nothing about?”

He then pushed the woman away and went for the old fellow.

"No.” I said in my heart. “Not him. Not again.”

I burst out from the table making sure I did not really make much noise, and threw the knife at him, aiming directly for his eye. The warrior was now blinded on one eye.

I took another knife, pushed him to the floor, this time yelling out in rage and climbed over him. l drived the knife into him, stabbing him repeatedly as I yelled out in rage. I did not care if he had died, I never stopped with the stabbing. This went on for a while until my hands tired. Blood was now all over me, on my face and on the clothes that had been given to me. I was breathing heavily and my chest felt heavy.

As I finally stood up, still panting, I turned back only to meet terrified faces.

The scary man had died so I wondered why they were still afraid. I went closer to the strangers but they shifted from me. I soon realized that it was me whom they feared.

Everyone's faces expressed fear. Well to be precise, the little girl looked rather angry, the woman's face showed fear and then the old fellow. The old fellow looked… Well, taking a close look, unlike the others his face expressed sympathy instead.

“Oh little boy,” the old fellow said to me in a soothing tone. “The man hurt you? Is this why you had to run away from home?” As he said this, he came closer to me, but I shifted backwards in shock. “Don't be scared. These evil Rocainians aren't gonna get you. How about you come with us to Forestille?”

I was stunned. The old fellow said to me as he embraced me, whilst rubbing my head like a pet. My hands shook and I dropped the knife in great shock, weeping bitterly in tears. This was the first of it's kind. It was not predictable and kept someone in awe. Was this even possible? I wondered how a person whom was threatened and almost killed because of me, still felt this way.

Why wasn't he scared of me? Was this it? Had I finally found my own home?