Page 68 - full

The Journals of Raymond Brooks 67
“Be quiet, Adam,” she replied, and changed the cold rag on
my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” I continued.
“Shh,” she murmured as she placed a finger on my lips.
‘Ingrid,’ I thought to myself as I allowed sleep to claim me
again. ‘I’ve got her back.’
When I awoke next it wasn’t as pleasant. This time Ivar’s
frown replaced Ingrid’s smile, his frown deepened when he saw
my stupid smile.
“Happy now?” He asked sternly.
“What?” I replied.

“Are you happy you scared her half to death?” He asked.
“No,” I replied, surprised and angry he would think that of
me.
“So what was that all about?” He asked. Before I could answer
he continued, “You go off trying to get yourself killed, so she’ll
find your bloody carcass in the morning when she’s going to
gather water!”

“No, I got into a brawl!” I protested.
“You always get into a brawl, that’s no excuse! If your mind is
set on death, find a more convenient spot,” he replied.
“I’m sorry,” I answered.
“Sure you are,” he said dismissively. “Now you listen here boy,”
he added in stern tones. “You’re gonna recover quickly now,
even miraculously so, then you’ll say your pretty farewells to
both me and my daughter, and you’ll disappear— go someplace
else. And my daughter will never know what went between us,

understand?” He demanded.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“What was that?” He asked.
“Yes, Master Smith,” I corrected myself, as the full implications