Confrontation (for 5.16.12)

I stare into his eyes, unmoving.

“Killing you might not stop the attack, but without you, your army has no leader”

The Shadow laughs.

“Look at you. You are nothing more than a boy clutching a stolen knife.” He rises from his chair, his voice rising with him. “Do you think a boy can kill me? Do you really think that you will get away with it?”

I can feel the camp stirring. I must do something. And fast.

I begin to sing:

“One knife can slay a tyrant

One dead can mark the brave…”

Then I throw my knife.

Contemplation (for 5.14.12)

I cautiously make my way to the only tent, the stolen knife gripped firmly in my hand. The whole camp is asleep, completely unaware of what is going to happen. The only light is from a flickering candle in the tent. I can see the Shadow’s outline through the canvass side. I watch him with contempt. He’s sitting in a chair with his feet on a table. He has a glass in his hand, which he delicately puts to his lips every so often.

How can he be so dainty, almost refined, when he has ordered the deaths of so many?