The dance of waves in a lake

A small white bird flies by, catching Jeorge’s attention. He stops his march to look up at the sky, sticking his tongue out to taste the falling rain. What was once a small ritual used to conjure memories of his long past youth, is now a yet futile attempt at survival. The bitter taste in his mouth another grim reminded of how much had been lost.

“Keep moving ye scum. Don’t want ta keep de boss waiting.” The large man swung his whip, striking Jeorge, who barely flinches. The man delivers three more blows yet with little apparent effect.

“Ha ha, looks ya are losing ye touch Selmon, if ya can’t get da cattle delivered on time maybe I should da one in charge, eh?” A tall slender man with two skulls on his belt smiled at Jeorge as he uses his knife to clean his nails.

“Watch ya mouth Faile”, Selmon pulls his sword out as he approaches the human chain, “or it be ya blood be the next to purify me blade.” Before he can complete his task a chubby older man runs up to drape himself over Jeorge, forcing the man stop his swing.

“Please spare him, I beg you.”

“Get out de way old man or you be next.”

“Fine, fine, just spare him please. My life is forfeit.”

The increasingly angry man delivered a forceful punch to old man’s face, doubling him over. “Fool, all your lives are belonging to de Desert King already.” Surprisingly the old man quick rose back to his feet and again threw himself over Jeorge.

Selmon knew that of all the prisoners this one was the most important to his boss, but the rage that has many a time saved his life in the heat of battle was now yelling at him to plunge his sword straight through him.

Thankfully before he was to make a choice he would regret he was saved by Jeorge’s words.

“Sir…Im sorry for my impetus, I will continue my march. Please don’t hurt the old man, he clearly is losing his mind.”

“Very dumb man you are, lucky for you I inna good mood, get going quickly and ya only have 50 lashes waiting for you when we arrive.”