for you are John of Scharp; much older than James the Younger… Older and ‘gooder’, brother,” declared the seven year old.
“Thanks,” Jonathan said as he slung his arm around the neck of his sibling and friend.
Together, they filled the thatched buckets with water near a small rapid created by some boulders in the river. Then they each grabbed a rein to handle Swift and slowly made their way back in the direction of their home just as the first drops of rain began to fall from the newly arrived storm. As they started to enter the forested canyon pass that they had traveled for years, Jonathan felt for the precious stone that still lay hidden within the folds of his cloak and contemplated its weight in silence.
Behind them, and unbeknownst to anyone that had been previously near the water’s edge that day, there emerged from the shallows of mud and mire a figure nearly invisible. So stealthy and camouflaged was the enemy scout that the whole of the war party had watered their horses a mere hand breath above its hiding place… And, like a shadowy serpent, it had passed silently and within a whisper of the frolicking Samuel and his older brother, Jonathan of Scharp.
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