A Thread of Time: Firesetter, Book 1 by J. Naomi Ay Page B

had blown strongly and from behind us, swelling Jan’s
torn sail as if their sole purpose was to propel us to the awaiting shore. 
This made our passage easy.  The boat rocked little and though it was small,
there seemed to be room enough for us four. 
    The rains came each day, but only briefly,
filling our bucket with just enough to wash and quench our thirst.  Jan and the
little orphan, Dov fished often, their nets trailing behind us in the morning
when the currents were calm and the fish climbed to the surface in search of
food. 
    For our meals, we shared their catch,
carving it into small pieces, devouring the raw salty flesh as if it was the
finest of delicacies served in the land.
    My son enjoyed this menu, much more so
than the thin soups and flat, stale breads he was accustomed to at home. 
Whether as a result of the proteins in this flesh or the irons in the fish
blood he sipped, Amyr remained strong during those few days, sitting upright,
or walking slowly about the boat.  In my haste to depart, I had forgotten all
his medicines at home, yet now, without them, he seemed healthier than before. 
His strange, but beautiful eyes, glowed like a brilliant rainbow of light,
although there was a new darkness in them, a coldness, as if his joy was gone.
    “What is it?” I would ask him.  “What
troubles you, my son?”
    “Nothing, Papa,” he would murmur, turning
away.
    My son was changing on this voyage,
metamorphosing in a way I could not understand.  It was ever so slightly,
almost unnoticeable until I blinked and then, I could not say exactly what was
different. 
    This I knew, always, despite his lifetime
of frailness and infirmity, Amyr had a peace about him, a smile upon his face. 
He was loving and we cherished him.  Inexplicably, his very presence seemed to
fill us with hope.  Now, I felt a chill whenever I gazed upon his face.  My
lips froze when I kissed his forehead.  My hand stopped and refused to touch,
when I reached to stroke his beautiful hair.
    “Leave me be, Papa.” 
    He dismissed me, turning his back when
only days before I had clutched him to my chest.  I feared I was losing him,
when in truth, to me he was already gone.  Only days before, I had a wife and
son and now I was alone with neither a family, nor a home, journeying across
the massive sea to a land unknown.
    What became of my wife, I could only
guess.  For weeks prior, in the village, I had heard rumors that made my heart
sicken.  If Ailana was alive when the Korelesk’s army found her, I shuddered to
imagine what they did.  My wife, despite her thin form, and the new cruelness
in her heart, was still beautiful, so much so, all others paled beside her.
    I had also heard tales of camps and prison
like places where our people were taken and put to work.  I didn’t know much of
these things as only snippets were passed in the whisperings between one and
another.
    Of course, all of it could be false, I had
told myself.  In this time and this century, I could not imagine my fellow man
so uncivilized and cruel.  This was before the army came to our doors.  This
was before our village was reduced to rubble and ash, and I was set adrift upon
the ocean.
    I was thankful beyond measure that we had
come safely to this boat and that our travels on this sea were going well. 
Each night, I bid these children to join me in prayer, to thank the Holy One
for His guidance and His grace.  Although we didn’t know the words, having
never spoken the language of the motherland, I believe we communicated these
thoughts in our hearts. 
    Dov and Jan joined me in this worship,
kneeling by my side, bowing their heads and holding hands, closing their eyes. 
Amyr sat on the forward deck, purposely avoiding us and our prayer, his odd
eyes flashing in the darkness at the sea.
    “Is he not grateful?” Jan asked after
bidding him to take her hand, to which he shook his head and resumed his perch
on the bow.
    “Of course, he is,” I