Connor hurried to obey his father's command, though he didn't believe his injury was significant enough to merit protection. Most of the blood covering his body was from his father's wounds, not his own."You'll have a scar to remind you of this black day," Donald predicted."I need no reminder. I won't forget.""No, you won't forget. Does it pain you?""No."Donald grunted with approval. The boy had never been a complainer, a fact his father found most pleasing. He had all the makings of a mighty warrior."How old are you, boy?""Nine or ten years now," he answered."I'm thinking you might be older or younger. Your size tells me you're still a boy, but your eyes have turned into those of a man. I see the bright fire of fury there, and I am pleased by you.""I could take you with me.""You will not drag a dead man behind you.""Do your injuries pain you, Father?""'Tis the truth I don't feel anything now. I seem to have gone numb. A blessed way to die, I'm thinking. Some men would not be as fortunate.""I would stay with you if you…""You'll leave when I command you to leave," his father ordered. "You'll save yourself so you'll be able to keep your promises to me. The enemy has left, but make no
Навигация с клавиатуры: следующая страница - или ,
предыдущая -
