The Last Goodbye
“He has what you’re looking for.”
My breath caught, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through me, each emotion warring for dominance as I surveyed the man in front of me. His thin face and deep eyes were hidden behind a film of dirt, his dark hair falling in mattered clumps. He was tall and lanky, his skinny limbs settled comfortably under the weight of his battered vest, despite his fragile appearance. A large hunting knife was strapped to his waist. He looked no older than 16, but his eyes held a haunted look beyond his years, and I knew not to mistake him for the child he looked like. This was a child of war, and as such, no child at all.