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Everyone remembers their first time. It was late summer, back when I still rode with my family in a trade caravan. The heat had long since forced grass into dormancy and baked the soil. We took it slow and traveled under the trees on the river's bank. A kindness to the beasts of burden, as it wouldn't be much longer until our path would take us into the open plains. I was young. I loved every moment of it. My eldest brother and myself rode as outriders that day. I'm embarrassed to admit I can't even remember what we talked about. Likely nothing of importance, and the day would of remained the same if I hadn't fallen from my horse. Annoyance rose in me at his boisterous yells, and despite being dazed I jumped back up to saddle my horse. I refused to let this blemish on the day continue any further. As my vision narrowed I noticed a few things. First, I was laying on the horse. LAYING, not sitting? Had I slipped again? And why was my brother still yelling? It wasn't that funny, and I remember starting to complain. That's when I noticed the pain. My awareness grew along with the pain. Glints of swords. The yells of my brother had become a cacophony of noise from man and beast alike. An arrow sank into the neck of a youth; my horse- no, my brother's horse, I laid on the back of my brother's horse, sped by too fast for me to recognize the face. An object blocked my view as I turned to gaze behind us. A stick? The pain surged as I tried to knock it off, my vision clearing. The pieces all fell together. My fall. The shouts. The stick. Why I was on my brother's horse. I had been shot. I forced away the shock I felt and looked around. My brother was above me, his bow singing as he launched arrow after arrow. I was off the horse now, and suspected this time my fall was genuine. Every breath was a labored agony, and I saw now the arrow that had pierced my lung. My brother drew his sword and removed the head of a would-be bandit. The caravan was under attack. I lurched to my feet, pain flying through every nerve, and drew my sword. I would not by sit idle while my family fought and died around me. Died? No, they couldn't be dead. Not yet. I banished the thought and drew upon all my resolved. Wounded or not, I would not be denied my place in battle beside my brother. I surged forward into the fray- Then I got shot again. How long I lay there I didn't know, but I know I started to laugh at the humor of it all. So fierce and wild a laugh that my brother later remarked on the terror he felt when it reached his ears. But even as I lay, my blood turning the warm dirt to mud, I heard the change. The cacophony became a chorus. I heard my father's voice. Screams of delight and cries of mourning. A certain peace fell over me in knowing knew we had won and my family was still alive... And then I passed out. Kaeul | |