Chapter 4

Night fell an hour later.

Renhad not gone far.

He sat next to a tree, resting.

Truth was that he had never had a good sleep for the past six years.

His mind, constantly on the alert, couldn’t allow for it.

Not when his enemies might pounce on him at any time.

For six long years now.

Skilled Roman and Gothic fighters had been sent on his trail during this time. In a straight fight, they were no match for him. But they had numbers on their side. And with every kill, more established fighters had been dispatched, which meant that he was always on the move, and continuously honing and improving his techniques.

But now the opportunity had presented itself on a golden plate, with Rome engaged in an impending heated battle with the Huns.

With their attention diverted, they had ceased their pursuit of him, and would not have anticipated his counterattack.

The time had finally come for him to right all the wrongs.

Thirteen years after he first met the old man, Kreio, he would have his revenge.

*

Some four hours later, he was awakened by a low, but deep, growling.

The noise was very faint. But in the quiet of the night, the sound did not escape Ren’s trained ears.

It came from the South, where he passed earlier.

“It has to be the brown mongrel,” he thought. “Those men have returned to get him.”

No, he must not interfere. There could be more people now, to get back at him for cutting off one of the men’s arms. They would not be able to trouble him, but word could get around with regards to his existence, and that could prove problematic in time to come.

But the growl persisted.

Renhad to go back.

*

There was nobody in sight, when he reached the location.

Only the two dogs remained, the brown mongrel still guarding its dead friend.

Again, Renfound himself touched.

Six years ago, it was he who sat next to the deceased Kreio, wondering if there really was life after death, and if his master would be lonely in the final part of his journey to heaven. Back then, at the age of seventeen, he had witnessed countless deaths, but never once so affected.

And now, shaking his head slightly, Renbent down, lifting up the lifeless body of the white dog. He would bury it, as was his final deed for his late master.

The brown mongrel raised its head, seemingly in puzzlement of the human’s acts.

But there was no menace in its eyes.

*

 

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