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"The Value of a Life" There was no way out tonight for either of us. Dusk had come and gone, quicker than an arrow through its target. Now, here we two were, stranded in the dark on a narrow rocky outcrop. I'd stalked the man through the wilderness, through forests and across plains. He was wanted in the kingdoms for murder, and there was a hefty price on his head. The crude drawing of him on the bounty sheet, affixed to the city wall, had caught my eye. I'd seen this man, and recently. He was a vagrant who'd found work as a shepherd. I tracked him like a wolf to a sheep. When he finally saw me, he ran. And now, unfortunately, the *real* wolves were here... twenty feet below us, circling and howling. He was caught, and he knew it. He threw every curse at me that you could imagine. His eyes shone in the darkness, ten feet away. They were wet with tears. "Let me go," he pleaded. "I didn't do anything." "You didn't kill a man?" I asked, catching my breath. He didn't respond except to spit at the wolves below. I was in a dangerous position, and I was doing all that I could not to let that show. The man was a foot taller than me and certainly stronger. The night was young, too: soon, fatigue would set in and he could easily overpower me. And the wolves seemed to be multiplying. I had to act with haste. Using the dark to my advantage, my fingers deftly knotted the rope at the side of my pack. The man could sense that something had shifted, and I could hear him press his back to the wall. I kicked a stone with my foot past him to draw his attention away. As he turned, a dark blur against the inky night, I flicked my wrist. The rope sailed through the air, coiling itself around the man and tightening as I pulled. The more he struggled, the tighter the knot became. He cursed. I coiled the rest of the rope around a sturdy protruding rock and crouched, keeping my distance. The man finally stopped and sank to his knees in silence. It was going to be a long night. I wasn't going to speak. It would do me no good to give away anything about myself. I needed to let the man wear himself down so that at dawn's first light, I could get him with minimal resistance to the nearest city and collect the bounty. Hours seemed to pass before he spoke. His voice was hoarse, cutting through the howls below. "It was an accident. The man I killed. I caught him stealing sheep. I'd be blamed for the loss. We fought. I hit him... too hard. When I saw what happened to his head... I ran. And I'm tired of running," he said. His breath came in hitches. "I knew nothing of him. And yet I took everything from him. And that's how I'll always be known now. As a murderer." I listened, thinking. He sounded remorseful, truly. I knew a grim fate likely awaited him. Did he deserve that? It wasn't for me to decide. I was neither judge nor jury. I was but a conduit for what had been done, and what would be done. The man was beginning to wheeze. "The ropes...," he managed to say. They'd become too tight. It was cutting off his air. I wasn't going to have his death by suffocation be on my hands. Still, I hesitated. Could this be a ploy? The man's candor, his openness, rang true for me. I eased myself up and over, loosening the knot just enough for his breathing to ease. I retreated to my nook of the outcrop and stared out at the night, willing dawn to come. Before I knew it, weariness had taken hold. I began to drift, the baying of the wolves a strangely soothing song. "I'm ready for it," I heard the man say as my eyes closed. "For what has to happen." I awoke at sunrise to see the rope had slackened, trailing off over the edge. The man was gone. But the wolves remained. - Sommar | |