Hearing him, grunting, gasping, and cursing in a foreign tongue. Letting him tire himself with his frenzy of stabs and strikes. Watching his movement...��knowing he can not last much longer…the heat… the armor. and then it is decided. I lower my sword, dropping the shield and I simply wait. I am grazed and nicked over a half dozen times in this melee. Letting the blood flow, minimal as it is to enflame the crowd. A hush falls over the crowd. A pause A moment…he realizes his fatal error. He. It might had been the house he grew up in, butHelen's presence changed Fort Forman from a Spartan place where Dougsenior tried to make perfect little soldiers into a warm homestead. Thespirit of the house left and now it felt like a barracks.Doug knew he had to get out and go somewhere, but his old vice of theneed for any action to be justified stormed his decision making ability.To do something just to experience it, made no sense to him now, if hehas already done that action. His requirement. More

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