Page 27 of Damian

The small three-year-old boy, with tangled blond hair that appears a muddy brown from layers of dirt and grime, stands barefoot. His large, crystal blue irises are strikingly clear against his grubby face. He looks up at me with a giant smile. His face tells the story of a child who has never known the comfort of a bath or the luxury of fresh clothes. His garments, tattered and stained, hang loosely on his tiny frame, revealing his bare feet, which are calloused and dusty from constant contact with the ground. Despite his unkempt appearance, there is an undeniable innocence and curiosity in his bright blue eyes.

My memories flood back as I watch Serafim cling to my leg. I remember the countless nights under the stars, questioning if I would ever find my mate. The solitude had been unbearable, and the ache of my heart a constant companion. Yet, the moment I heard my mate’s call, it was as if a sunbeam had pierced the dark clouds of my existence. I have a purpose now, a reason to keep going. Two purposes.

He lets go of my leg. “He told me you would come.”

I kneel in front of him. “Who told you I would come?”

Serafim shrugs. “He didn’t tell me his name, but he was so bright I couldn’t look at him without my eyes hurting.” The clarity of his speech at such a young age surprises me.

“What else did the bright man tell you?”

“That you’re my patér, and that you would save Momma.”

A tear slides down my cheek into my beard. I can’t bring myself to tell this little one who already has my heart that I don’t know if we will save his momma. No matter the outcome, he’s mine. But an outcome without her isn’t acceptable to either of us.

“Incredible, he hasn’t budged from Lena’s side,” a woman behind me states.

Serafim looks behind me. “Georgia, what’s a patér?” he asks the newcomer.

I look back at the woman who tells my son, “I don’t know, sweetie.”

How can she not know?

I turn back to him. “A patér takes care of his mate and children. He makes sure no one ever hurts them, that they don’t go hungry. They protect them at any cost. They would die for the ones in his care.”

“So, you’re nothing like Poppa?”

I stifle a growl at the mention of that monster. “That is correct.”

“I need to get started,” Frank interrupts. “It might be best if the child waits outside.

Serafim throws his arms around my neck. His grip tight.

“Serafim, can you let go and look at me?”

Teary blue orbs bare deep into my soul. “I bet you’ve seen a lot of bad things.”

He nods.

“Your momma has a tooth that is making her sick. My friend here is also nothing like your Poppa, but he has to pull your momma’s tooth and give her medicine. All of this is going to hurt her. We can stay if you promise to be brave and let my friend do what he has to do.”

“And she’ll wake up?”

“Not right away, but soon.” I promise, knowing it might be a lie. A lie I pray he can forgive if I break my word.

“I’m brave. I promise.”

I nod at Frank to proceed.

I saw the post outside with the bloody ropes and a whip on the ground next to it. What this child has seen in his brief life is unimaginable. First thing I plan to do when I leave this tent is rip the post from the ground and toss it into the fire. And not long after that, we’ll gather everyone together and give the heifers in the cave a proper funeral.

The desolate camp symbolizes the cruelty they faced. Tattered tents flapped in the wind, and emaciated figures moved like corpses in the dim light. Despair fills the air. I paid no mind to the people watching me as I raced to Lena with curiosity and fear in my heart.

“Isaak, I’ll need you to hold her down in case she moves from the pain.”

“Serafim, will you hold Momma’s hand while I make sure she doesn’t move and get hurt more?”

“I can do that,” he agrees with a smile.

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