Morning in the Woods
The morning sun had barely risen when Alexander William, the man who saved Logan last night, prepared breakfast. Two fresh salmon lay over the small fire he had managed to keep alive overnight. The smell of cooking fish filled the clearing. Logan watched silently, still pale and exhausted from the events of the previous night.
"Eat," Alexander said curtly, sliding a plate toward him.
Logan hesitated for a moment before taking the fish. Each bite seemed to give him a bit of strength. Once they had eaten in silence, Alexander leaned back, watching the boy.
"Tell me about last night," Alexander finally said.
Logan's eyes darkened, his hands clenching. "It… it was terrible. The men… they shot my parents, the lady they were protecting… I ran, I… I barely escaped. And… why do good people always suffer?" His voice trembled with fear and anger.
Alexander shrugged, tossing a small piece of fish into his mouth casually. "Because good people are afraid. Afraid of bad people. The crazier the bad ones get, the slimmer your chances of survival." His tone was casual, almost indifferent, as if Logan's pain was trivial.
Logan looked at him, frowning. "Can… can I get revenge?"
Alexander chuckled quietly, a low, dark sound. "You're joking, right?" he said, shaking his head.
Days by the River
After breakfast, Alexander decided to take Logan fishing. He taught the boy how to bait hooks, cast lines, and wait patiently. For three days, they spent their time along the riverbanks, laughing, learning, and sharing quiet moments. A bond grew between them—brotherly, unspoken, solid.
But the fourth day brought shadows.
They were returning from fishing when a group of goons emerged from the trees, cutting off their path. Both Alexander and Logan were surrounded. Alexander had left his horse behind; there was no easy escape.
"Keep everything you have on the ground," one of the men ordered.
Alexander and Logan complied. The goons demanded the basket of fish as well. Alexander shook his head. "This food isn't yours," he said calmly.
Logan whispered urgently in Alexander's ear, "Fight… now!"
Alexander ignored him. He had learned the hard way that rushing into violence without a plan was death.
The men laughed cruelly, but the river was silent, as if holding its breath.
The Aftermath
The next morning, Alexander woke in a small doctor's clinic. His body ached, bandages wrapped around his arms and chest. The doctor explained he had been found injured near the riverbank, unconscious.
Logan was there, relief flooding his face when he saw him awake.
After recovering, Alexander returned to the location where his cart had been parked, only to find it gone. Logan hesitated, then explained: "When they were beating you, I threw stones at them and ran… but they took the cart too."
Alexander said nothing. Fury simmered beneath his calm exterior. He had been robbed, beaten, and humiliated—but his anger was sharper than ever.
He checked into a nearby hotel, leaving a promise to settle the bill before he left. His mind was already calculating, already planning. The forest had taught him one lesson: debts, injuries, and betrayals were all part of survival—and sometimes, they had to be paid back in blood.