The Sons of Brom

Father

Saul held a great walking stick in his hand. On it was very detailed, hand-carved designs that looked like mountains and spirals. He picked this up of course from the destroyed building, the lodge.

In his other hand were 4 large sticks which he brought all the way from a clump down the path. Once he walked far enough, he dropped them onto the ground next to a small pile of logs.

It was late now. Just yesterday have the two brothers' slayed the great beast. Now, they rest only 5 miles north, a journey which took them nearly twenty-four hours to complete. Too often would Rory collapse onto the ground. Saul was losing hope. Between the lump he has on his head and the deep wound in his chest, he couldn't make it much farther.

Rory was asleep, as he usually was. Saul had set up a fire for him and covered him in all of their blankets. He was warm. Saul also kept tea brewed and took occasional walks down to the river for clean water. He kept Rory's wound clean and covered.

However, there were bags starting to form under his own eyes. Little did he sleep. Little food did he spare for himself.

Using his spot-on aim with his slingshot, surely he could hunt for some food. They couldn't go on much further with just the food that they brought. It was their only option.

"One last trip," Saul said to himself as he rubbed his hands together by the fire. He looked up at the stars and judged how much longer the night would drag on. He then looked to the moon.

"Lead us the great city dear moon," Saul softly spoke to the sky. "Give us the strength we need to cross this forsaken mountain, and more so, let us return on time." The bright moon floated up in the sky, not even a twinkle came from it.

"Get some rest, Rory," he whispered at last before heading out again.

The mountains were quiet tonight. The only sounds that were heard were the wind and the distant owls that harbored high in the trees. This allowed the thumping sounds of Rory's walking stick to echo far throughout the canyons. He wondered if this echo could reach all the way to the moon. Maybe even reach back to Hannel. A sign to their family that they were alright. They were alive.

Just past a clearing, Saul spotted some dry wood. He kneeled down and felt it. The bark was thick and brown.

"Finally," Saul said. "These should last the rest of the night."

It was always frustrating picking up the logs with just one good leg. Just as he got a good grip on the, he heard the sound of a branch snap from above. Saul jump and dropped the wood.

An acorn fell just in front of him. He looked up and stared into the heavy foliage. Not even the light of the stars could be seen through the thick canopy. An animal, Saul suspected irritably. He once again started gathering his logs.

A heavy force pushed him to the floor. The logs and his walking stick scattered across the snow. The weight stayed on him. He couldn't get up.

Saul turned his head to the side and could just make out the figure of a man. He was tall and dressed in dark clothing. Around his mouth was a bandana and in his hands were a crossbow. He was stepping on Saul's back with the weight of his tall boots.

Two more walked into Saul's view. Were they coming from the trees? He wondered.

A man got close to Saul's face and rested a knife on the back of his neck; for intimidation. Their eyes met. Saul could feel his cold breath oh his cheek.

"Are you armed?" The man asked. Saul raised an eyebrow of the deep sinister voice this man had. Saul slowly reached into his side pocket, but the man saw his arm and twisted it behind his back. Another man quickly ran and secured his other arm. Saul screeched in pain.