the morning after

Concern for the two refugee children had altered the King's nightly routine. Each time he circled the border and come close to where they were staying, Valentine had veered off the beaten path to make sure all was right with the pair. Even though it was morning and well past the time he usually took to crash, the brute had decided to make one last trip out to their densite. When he got there he was surprised to find a fresh trail leading away from it. Good. At least one had risen.

On a whim the King followed the trail and soon the sound of babbling water reached his ears. Before he could sight the boy, a small but commanding voice reached his ears. "I am," he answered simply as he rounded the foliage that stood between them.