Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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It was very early, darkness on the verge of giving way to dawn. The first birds had begun to stir though it was yet still night. Carlos was warm, cozily warm, and if it hadn't been for the massive brute sharing his bed he might have even felt comfortable and glad. However it was not to be, came the depressing reality. Bennett was still sleeping, his large muscular arms encircling his unwilling prize. His breathing calm and rhythmic he would be an easy mark Carlos fantasized, if only he had a blade. The bastard would be gone before he knew what hit him.
However the stark reality of it was he possessed no blade, and knew one threatening move would more than likely rouse the sleeping beast. Still the idea had some merit, he mused. Long moments passed before he felt the big man stir, and Carlos knew instinctively that Bennett would be in no hurry to rise this day. Most certainly taking his pleasure with him again, subjugating him to his every will. Knowing that tonight he must depart forgoing his desire for a time in command of his reconnaissance force.
Carlos suffered Bennett's lustful attentions for what seemed like an eternity, with little choice but to comply. He lay there smothered in the furs, mind elsewhere as he had learned to do in all these long years of practice. It flashed into his head suddenly, had my mother felt this way? Until it was finally over and done with, and he could at last have some peace. He felt the cold on his back as Bennett left the bed, and he could see with half closed eyes the great man's silhouette blotting out the early light, filtering now through the open doorway.
Bennett sighed as he took his morning wash, the water's touch chill on his warm skin. He knew in his heart that Carlos would never care for him, there would be no hope of reciprocative love. In the same moment of thought, the cruel, nasty part of him didn't care. What did it matter anyhow? It's not like he has a choice. Sure I miss some things, but I get so many others. With leisure he shaved, peering into the cracked mirror, liking what he saw there. Then he carefully dressed in his full leather and metal regalia, checking his weapons carefully and placing them one by one in his wide belt.
"It's about time you showed a bit of pride in yourself isn't it?" Bennett quipped as he rummaged in a box beneath the table, promptly producing some items of clothing which he threw at the prone form in his bed.
"Wash, shave, and tidy yourself up, understand? Your starting to look no better than those wild children, and don't get any smart ideas with the cut throat, because I expect you to hand it over after your done."
With that he turned and disappeared from Carlos' sight. Carlos inspected the lump of clothing, the first being a red check flannel shirt. It had been a long time since he had had one of these, even if it had few buttons. The second item was a pair of blue denim jeans, less worn, and clean compared to his other pair. So he sat there for a long time, looking at the gifts, and feeling like a whore.
*****
Renard sat stony faced, hanging his long legs over the cold, uninviting rock ledge at the edge of the great cave, staring out into the chill of predawn. No one stirred, a light frost coated the landscape, and he shivered, though more with trepidation than the cold. He had drunk sparingly last night, retiring early to fitful, troubled sleep. Long and sleepless had been the hours, fraught with worry and fear. It was always going to get to this, always. Bennett relentlessly wanting to push further south, and it was getting ever harder to steer this rabid crew away from the beloved valley where he was raised.
