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92 Amit Bobrov
children running about.
One normal, autumn day Raymond and I labored at chopping

such a tree as he preferred to harvest. This tree was tougher
to chop down than it had appeared to be at first, and both
Raymond and I grew tired before it fell. Other trees loomed
high above us, some of their peaks painted white with snow.
Though no snow or rain was falling at that moment, it was quite
chilly. I liked this weather. It made the world seem beautiful
and calm — kind of like how I felt. The sounds of small animals
and birds kept us company, though, and I felt safe sitting by
Raymond’s side. I watched him light a bonfire and blew air upon

the embers when instructed.
“Master Raymond, may I ask a question?” I said, after we
settled for supper, our dishes spread before us.
“Of course,” he replied, and I hesitated a few moments, trying
to think of how to pose my query.
“What drives you to act so kindly?” I finally asked.
“What do you mean?” He replied, puzzled by question.

“Well, you took me in when you had nothing to gain from it.
I, a wounded soldier with people probably out to kill me. The
way I see it, you had everything to lose and nothing to gain, so
I don’t understand why? Please tell me,” I said.
“Not everything is about gaining or losing,” he replied in calm
tones. “And it’s not true that I had nothing to gain. I saved a
life, and I think yours is a life worth saving,” he said, yet his
expression told me there’s more beneath the surface.
“Why me? You don’t even know me,” I protested.

“I don’t need your life’s story to know your heart, and it doesn’t
matter. I’m not your judge. For me you’re a soul in need, and as
such it’s my duty to give assistance,” he said calmly.
“Duty? Assigned by whom?” I asked, pressing him further. I