Honoring the Last Memory

Henri wiped the sweat out of his eyes. The day was finally starting to cool off as it transitioned into evening, but that wasn’t saying much since it still felt like it was in the mid-80s.

Brushing aside the leaves, he bent over to get a closer look at the tracks. The scuffed ground showed that whoever was bringing up the rear of the group had attempted to obscure the tracks, but the indentions were deep enough in the dusty clay that Henri was still able to tell there were four of the slaving bastards who had taken little Sarah. He stood, wiping the dry dirt as best he could from his dark hands.

For hours now, Henri had been following the tracks along the little-used game trail. Early in the morning he had awoken to learn the isolated town had been raided in the night. Again. Since they were one of the few towns that struggled to eke out survival in the wilds of what had been the state of Washington it wasn't unheard of for others to come through to trade for food or simple tools. For years they had been able to secure their existence in this way.

Then the slavers had begun targeting Henri's people.

Last night they had snuck in and taken a young girl of four, graceful as the night with a smile full of stars that stood out so brightly against her mocha skin. A delight to friends and family as she had begun blossoming into their community. Now she might never be seen again, whisked off to the south to live as labor and breeding stock. With no real government anymore, all the evils thought banished had reared their ugly heads again. When the world had started burning, the waters had risen to wash away the hubris of man. Within a few short years it was over. Whole countries devolved into warring free-for-alls as those nearest the equator fled north and south away from death. Horror stories about those who stayed sweating to death in the wet, scorching heat. Following on the heels of the heat was the breakdown in technology. Power-grids and infrastructure, not designed for dealing with such temperatures day after day, fell apart. Society followed.

Since the early morning Henri alone had been in pursuit. Sarah hadn't been the first child taken, but every attempt by a group to track down the abductors either returned empty-handed or not at all. Henri pled for the girl, knowing his own daughter would have wanted him to do so, but all his words caused was the hanging of heads in shame and defeat. So he had set out alone.

Those that would have been brave enough to go with him were already dead.

Henri stumbled slightly over a partly obscured branch fallen to the ground. The heart-shaped locket burned like ice against the flesh of his chest, the image within exhorting him on to greater speed. Henri clutched his bow tighter, and picked up his pace.

Another hour passed before he slowed. Movement ahead, shapes moving through and between the shadows of the hardy, dry trees. Four shapes, the biggest in the middle carrying a sack with dainty legs peeking out over his shoulders.

Hunting instincts took over. Pause. Draw an arrow from his hip quiver. Pull and aim. Breath out. Loose. In seconds he repeated the movements a second time, both arrows finding their ways into the backs of men who deserved far worse than to bleed out in the woods.

Shouting between the two men remaining as they dashed for cover. An argument of some sort was happening as Henri adjusted his position, trying to line up another shot. So fast had he struck that the slavers didn't know whether to risk a charge or to drop their captive and flee. Like cowards they made their choice, the one holding Sarah's sack tossing her into the middle of the trail and running after his last remaining ally.

Henri adjusted his stance, tracking the large man through the trees. A tricky shot, but he had made them before when he had hunted with his daughter in years past.

Breath-out. Pause. Release. Scream.

One slaver remained.

With no shot, and his last enemy fleeing like all the dogs of hell were behind him, Henri rushed down to where Sarah lay trying to struggle free of the burlap sack she had been carried in.

"Sarah, it's Henri," she paused her movements at his voice, "Here, let me help." Pulling the small hunting knife from his side, Henri quickly cut through the knot that had held the lip closed over her hips to over her head.

"Just one more, Sarah. Wait for me and I'll take you home." Hearing a mumbled acceptance from within as the sack began to come off, Henri did not hesitate. He took off at a sprint in the direction the last man, the last animal had fled.

Luck was with Henri that day. The last slaver had tripped and badly mangled his leg. Henri came upon him just as he was pulling himself up to a seated position at the base of a tree. Their eyes met, one set full of quiet fury, the other a bitter rage at his misfortune.

"You know we will keep coming, don't you? The strong make the rules now that no one is around ruling against the natural order of things. And we are strong." The slaver's voice trails off into silence at the end, his already pale face growing more-so as the pain of moving his leg got worse.

Henri looked the man, the animal, all that was wrong with this new world in the face. From five strides away he did not say a word in response. No argument. No promise of vengeance. No expression of regret.

Henri lifted his hunting bow, pulled the last arrow, and sent it right between the man's eyes. Turning, he left the arrow where it was.

It took him somewhat longer to make it back to Sarah. She was right were he had left her, thankfully.

"Come little one, let's get you home."

Frightened steps turned into more confident strides over the hours walking back. The darkness of the night held terror, but for Sarah the old hunter walking by her side was strong enough to ward against any evil lurking in the lengthening shadows. By the time they returned the young girl was practically back to normal, resilient despite her age and the way of the world. Her family, the town, everyone weeped and cheered to have her back.

Henri left them to their celebration. No one for him there. Heading up the more worn path to his own shack deeper in the forest, Henri took the time to admire the bright blues and greens of the earth, appreciating them more now than he had before.

Pausing before entering his home, Henri leaned him bow next to the simple door. Reaching into his shirt he pulled out the locket and, pinching the clasp, opened it for the first time in months.

Inside the picture of a uniformed soldier, young and hard, but beautiful and full of life all the same. Henri gazed down into his daughters face and remembered.

Henri closed the precious memento and returned it under his shirt. Going into his empty home, he was sure that, wherever his brave daughter had ended up, she would have approved of his actions.

After all, she had once attempted to do the same.